The Screwdriver Chapter One

          Baquet Lee looked at the blood-red sky; the clouds had begun circling around each other and there was strange smog that Baquet immediately recognize as the emissions from the Razorblades. The Reckoning would be at Precinct Five faster than Lee could tell his men to retreat. Not that he would, but as he looked at the cityscape of the world around him, at the buildings towering over him like they were expecting the answers that he couldn’t give, at the sun which could’ve been rising or setting, and finally back to his small squad of ill-equipped soldiers, he wished at every moment he could tell them to leave and never come back; to save their own lives. But they were fighting for something much bigger that any of them and all of them combined. “Patch me in to The Major Viale, Robinson,” Baquet said. His voice was as cold and stern as his face, but it gave a note of understanding and pity on his part. Robinson heard the latter and nodded meagerly.
          He ran a few feet over to the comlink station, adjusted the dials and pressed the blood-stained buttons until static was heard. That was a bad sign, even worse than if he had heard nothing at all. Static was the forbearer of Death’s news, that the Major Viale could have been destroyed. Everyone thought the same thing as they looked at the satellite with unlucky eyes. Finally, as if to answer their prayers, a young man’s voice was heard over the intercom. Robinson couldn’t quite pick it up and asked them to repeat.
          “This is Austin of the Major Viale speaking. Over.” Baquet knew who the owner of that tone was and smiled meekly at its sound. Austin was trustworthy, but it pained Baquet Lee’s heart to know of his youthful arrogance. Through out the war for the Faint Net, Lee had seen many people of Austin’s manner die, holding the dreams of heroics in their hearts. He wanted to believe that this time would be different, but he knew it wouldn’t unless he did something.
          “Austin,” Baquet spoke as he approached the comlink. “We can barely here you. You have to speak up. Over.” Austin understood, for Baquet didn’t have to tell him about the emission clouds in the atmosphere. As they were speaking, Austin was getting the Major Viale ready just in case The Reckoning decided to pay a surprise visit to the small supplies ship. ‘We speak of an armada,’ Austin thought, ‘but anyone with eyes can see that we are the only ones up here.’ After a while, Austin thought it applicable to talk about serious matter his leader.
          “When do you want the Third Squadron to meet you down there, Sir?” Austin asked. In the background, the coordinator looked up from the map and tried to joke about what happen to the other two squadrons. His humor was met by silence. Baquet thought about it for a minute, looking at his men were tired of war, then back up at the sky, wondering when they would be here. ‘Unless the Gunrays get here in the next hour, we are going to be through,’ Lee thought. He could feel the sweat dripping off of his head. He didn’t want to fail his men, but he didn’t want Austin to have to pay the price for his decisions. He put on the earphones and entered a quiet conversation with Austin.
          “You will stay up in orbit until this is done.”
          “What?! Sorry for the comment, but have you gone crazy? You need us done there!”
          “I need you to survive, Austin.”
          “If this is about Atlantia Vishu, I swear---”
          “I know it was not your fault. You are like a son to me. Stay up there.” Baquet disconnected. He looked back to the soldiers, who were asking him the outcome with their eyes. Standing up, Baquet could feel his heart turn heavy and put his hand to his chest to soothe it:
          “My men, I am very proud of you. Having lost your brothers, I am surprised that you stand here now, ready to accept your destiny as I have accepted mine. If it is that today I die, I want to let you know that I love you and that my surest of favors goes to your lives, whether they be short or immortal.” He looked around, seeing the blank look of pity and understanding, and then he decided to continue on.
          “I have left what once I called my own and stand on these very same lines as I too wait for the Vee Jay’s army to arrive in about an hour. I have readied my guns with my goodbyes, for as they told me when I and another burned down Atlantia Vishu, there will be a time I meet my death. Let none of ours be in vain!”
          A loud roar came out from the squadrons that lasted for a while until the Razorblade’s engines overruled them. As Baquet guided his men across the field and made ready his will, he could see the consequences of them losing. He could see The Major Viale falling from the sky in a burning mass, incinerating the entirety of the small city. Incinerating the crew...
          Back on The Major Viale, Austin slammed his fist on the control terminal. A loud thud echoed throughout the ship and Austin completely ignored the pain his hands were feeling from such an angered action. He looked back at the coordinator and started walking back to his room near the back of the vessel. Paris left his holographic map and ran after Austin; leaving the rest of the 13 men to wonder about the orders they were given. Austin pressed his hand on the palm security system and the door slid to the side, the sound of air escaping the room rushing pass Austin's ear.
          "Sir!"
          Austin turned to see Paris. He wondered why he didn't notice his presence earlier, but wrote it off as he began stepping into the room. "What do you want, Paris? Shouldn't you be setting our course?" Austin asked. No answer came for a moment and Austin wondered if the coordinator actually went back to his station. Nothing was ever that easy, though.
          "Are we really going to stay up in orbit?" Paris inquired. He ran his hand through his jet-black hair and looked at the ground, surveying the titanium ground which was dirtied and dented through the years. "I know it is really stupid question, but-"
          "Then why are you asking it?" Austin merely replied. He kept his back to Paris, not wanting him to see his sorrowful features as his eyes.
          "Sir..."
          Suddenly, Austin's voice grew stern, but it only surprised Paris for a second. For the past three years, Austin was the kind and gentle soul who wouldn't do anything to endanger anyone else's life but his own. "Comlink Sgt. Waters. Tell him the project is still on.” It reminded Paris of Baquet Lee, though, and that was a comfort. When Paris didn't answer for a few seconds, Austin turned around, his face shadowed by the light behind him. "I am waiting for your affirmative, soldier!"
          "Yes sir!" Paris saluted. Austin touched the other side of the wall and the door closed. Paris walked down the hallway back to the bridge, and did just as Austin had ordered. The other men looked at him, all with the stare of wondering what Austin's choice was. They were all anxious for an answer, for a reason behind everything that was happening lately. They wonder why, in one of the most important of moments, Baquet had told the Major Viale to stay in orbit. And what Austin, of all people, was following them.
          As if to contradict their beliefs, the door to the bridge opened and they all turned to the sound of footsteps; heavy, yet calm and calculated. Austin stood behind the pilot, and they both looked at Ursula. It was green as they had all once remembered it, but they could not reaffirm their memories. The Net was breaking down, and with it, so was the atmosphere of the planet: It was completely engulfed by a red and black encasing. The pilot, Jeremy, sat still, entranced as he always was.
          "Zoom into Precinct Seven," Austin ordered. Jeremy quickly touched the upper-right-hand button on the console and a holographic map of Ursula appeared. He fitted his left hand with a glow with metallic fixtures and turned the planet slightly, finally touching a point on the hologram. On the window, their vision grew as the calm, but desolate city of Precinct Seven was in view. "How fast can you get us down there, Jeremy?"
          Surprised by his question, the pilot looked at Austin and then, finding no secrets, answered. "We can get there in about 35 minutes, not including landing. Do you plan to land us down there, sir?"
          Austin smiled. "Yeah. Is there any sign of the Reckoning in the area?" The pilot answered in the negative and Austin patted him on the shoulder. Paris smiled from his seat as did the other men. This was the Austin they knew: honest, yet rebellious in his truest nature. "Paris, I'm going to need you to intercom the defense sector of this ship. Tell them we need to be cloaked. We're going to land."
          Paris slid his rolling chair to the other side of the console and relayed his message to the entire ship. "But sir," it was Jeremy again, "The Reckoning is no where in sight in that sector, we don't need to cloak."
          Austin sat next to Jeremy and took hold of the co-pilot's controls. "We're not trying to hide from the Reckoning. I am disobeying a direct order, remember? It's best not to let Baquet know we are there until it is too late to send us back." Jeremy smiled and they could all feel and hear the rumble of the energy mechanism working to cloak the ship. The rumble grew worse as The Major Viale was heated up by the atmosphere of the planet.
          God, where am I? Harold looked around, seeing only black. He wandered for a bit, the only light being directly over him and shining over where he stood. He opened his mouth to yell for proof of another person in his strange realm of reality. Nothing came out except for the wheezing sound of air escaping. He moved his hand to throat, feeling the sticky texture of blood and the hole from whence it came. At that moment, he could have cried, preparing for the amount of pain, he was bound to feel. But there was none. He dropped to his knees, seeing sweat droplets hit the ground. Where am I? Someone, tell me where I am...
          Someone answered his question. As Harold would reflect upon it later, he supposed he should have known that in such a circumstance, there was no other possible path an answer could take. A bright white flash appeared directly in front of him, and in the next second, he was floating above three planets. The stars shone as a blanket of diamonds all around him and there was neither heat nor cold. It was strange, yet exhilarating. He couldn't recognize any of the features on the planets and easily became bored with the spheres.
          "Sssssscrew Driver..."
          Harold turned fully around, which was quiet easy even though he could apply any force. At this point, however, he had already thrown out the laws of physics in the excuse that this all was a dream. Wow, someone turned the crazy switch on... Harold said in his mind. Directly in front of him was a series of frozen human figures with wings. Angels? He reached out and touched the finger of one of them.
          Quickly, though, the dream turned into a nightmare. "Sssssscrew Driver...We are so hungry, we crave for it..." The figure took hold of Harold's wrist and the others followed suit. Harold thought it was an odd time to see how many there were. 26. Maybe he wanted to see how many he could take down before they killed him. Maybe he wanted to know the significance there was in the number, although there couldn't have been one. However, what his heart truly wanted to do was to scream and Harold found his voice as the figures started to pull at his limbs, at his shirt, at his hair.
          "What do you want from me?!?!?!" Harold screamed as he tried flailing about in the vacuum. The answer seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once; it shatter his hearing, yet unified every understanding of the universe; it turned the frozen angels to the most horrific of devils, yet turned life beautiful.
          "Reversal!”
          Harold woke up in the middle of a street, and immediately felt his throat. It was whole. His military attire was still intact and he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out a small American flag. He unwrapped it, looking that a picture of an auburn haired young woman holding him around the neck. They were both smiling in front of their small Virginia home and it hurt Harold that he was so far from home. Harold stood up and brushed himself off, looking around. "Where the heck is my platoon?" He said in a whisper. Immediately, his head was flooded with images that would drive anyone insane:
          There was an explosion. Shrapnel tore his friend apart. Blood...Everywhere. The Nazis loading artillery guns. Someone stepped on a mine. Blood. A shot. His neck ached. A medic is close with a dirty rag. He threw it away. Blood! He was speaking to him. Don't die. Don't die. Someone pulled the medic away. Screaming. BLOOD!
          Harold's head ached, forehead on the concrete, and he could see red splotches on the ground below him. He looked up, still crouched and felt the area under his nose. He was bleeding. "What the-" His thought was interrupted as an explosion rattled the city. He looked behind him, seeing nothing and he stood up. Walking weakly to the corner of the street, he turned around and another explosion shook him so hard he was knocked down. Dust flew everywhere, clouded his vision, and clogged his lungs. Harold coughed and waved his hands in front of him, dust sticking to his bloodied hands.
          "Go forward, my men!” A man in very casual clothing appeared from the havoc, and Harold wanted to seek help from him. He began to stagger towards the man and was surprised to see a flood of men emerging from street on the side of the building, all dressed as the man was. It took a moment for Harold to notice that they all were wearing bullet-proof vests and red long sleeved shirts.
          "Hey! Over here!" Harold yelled. His throat gave out and he coughed again. He began running despite the pain his legs were feeling and tripped. He cursed and hit the ground with his palm, trying to push himself up. A sound became steadily louder and louder and Harold associated it with that of a train and he looked up just in time to see "A flying car...I have gone crazy." He dropped back down, barely able to see the young men piloting it before they rode over him. Harold could feel the onrush of air and covered his head with his hands.
          He rose back up again, and stared at the shrinking image in wonder. The sound came back, this time fiercer and jagged and Harold turned, seeing a red and black plane, (at least that was the closest thing to it), fire a short burst of green lightning. Harold didn't suppose it was good and he dropped down onto his back and passed over him. His eyes moved to see a green explosion and the red and black plane rose into the sky again. He stared at the mechanical wonder and felt something hit his foot. Harold looked down and moved his red hair out of the way and locked eyes with a severed head, burned beyond recognition.
          Frozen, he thought to himself the proposition of himself meeting the same fate. He didn't muster enough strength to pull him out of the shock of the encounter and was immediately grabbed by someone in a red and black uniform and pushed into a ship. There was no command to follow this time and as Harold looked at the ship, he noticed the coloring of red and black.
          "We loaded them up."
          "Roger. I'll intercom the Keep."
          Harold looked at the men around him. Two of them held assault rifles, were dressed in black uniforms, and their faces were covered with a helmet. He could guess that the men in the vests were captured just like he was and he knew he was right as he looked at their handcuffs around their wrists. They were speaking.
          "Where's Baquet?"
          "As far as I can tell, he got away."
          "What about us? Where are we going?"
          There was silence.
          "Is Baquet going to save us?"
          "Maybe..."
          One of the black-clad soldier walked up to Harold, pulled him up and slammed him against the metal wall. Pain rushed Harold body and it was intensified as the person grabbed him by the hand and pulls his arms back, handcuffing them. Too weak to resist, Harold could only utter a groan as the soldier threw him against the ground and closed the door to the ship. Harold could feel them rise and he stared intently on the others around him, who were only looking at the door.
~
          Paga Way looked out the window from his abode in the northern sector in Neo Kornicia. Although it was the twelfth planet in the solar system, the sun was keeping an unruly hold on the large planet. He wiped his head with his sleeve as he stood outside on the balcony. This planet had always been his favorite and he had considered being kind, in a sense, to it when he had conquered it. The thought passed with relative ease twelve months ago and as he looked down, he could see the fruits of his labor. Paga had always wondered why he would even consider going so far out in the system for his campaign, but Vee Jay insisted on the action. It didn't surprise Paga in the least though, for Vee Jay didn't know the true point for the war. Most didn't know the substance of Paga's endeavors and such was the status he would like to keep it at. On the desk in his very large and extravagant room, the comlink beeped. Paga went quickly inside and sat down in his desk. Pressing the button, he could hear a woman's voice.
          "Favored Son?" the voice asked. Paga was enthralled and exhilarated, for he knew this as Zero and he hoped that she bore good news. Clearing his throat, he proceeded with the meeting.
          "It is indeed I. Have you done what I asked of you?" Paga asked, leaning towards the intercom. Zero laughed and that both put Paga at ease and made him worry. It was at times like these that neither of them took the simplicity to know each other’s true identities although Paga could easily have access to the information.
          "Yes. I have killed the Forenzi Guards and taken the information from which you seek."
          Paga sighed. "Killing them was not in the agenda. Have you at least found the Screwdriver? That is the most important factor in my plans." There was a sigh on the other end and like the escape of air that Paga used to show his emotion, he was sure Zero's sigh was that of disappointment and frustration.
          "No I haven’t, Favored Son. They wouldn't give up the information, so I had to kill them all,” Zero stated. It made Paga feel like a fool for hiring such a violent character to do his secret bidding. Just as he was about to retort, Zero spoke again. "However, I might have information that someone of that same caliber has been spotted in Precinct 5 in the world of Ursula. It is just rumor, however."
          "Must I remind you of the consequence of taking no action in these circumstances, my dear Zero?" Paga asked, placing his hand on the desk as he stood. "It is important that you find the Screwdriver and take him or her to the Domain. What has been prophesized by the Justified on Pacific Corner cannot be made undone and as I have feared, their predictions have fallen into place one event at a time.
          It is thus there is a fork in the road. On the one hand you and everyone you know will perish under my fist and on the other, there will be no mistake that I get what I want. In either case, your destiny relies solely on the actions that you pursue in these moments. I need not remind you of the burning of Atlantia Vishu, for like you, I was there. But, how can I say this in the sincerest of manners? We were there for different reasons. Lest that should happen again, I suggest that you find the truth behind the rumor and do as you are told.
          It shall be known at this point that my own assassin will be on your very same track if you do not find him. I will not wait any longer than 24 hours for you to find him."
          There was a silence in the room as Paga's words sank into the air, poisoning it with the horrific counts of the threat of his endeavors if Zero should fail. Finally she spoke on the other end of the comlink, her voice shaky and unsure. "But he was taken by The Reckoning! It would take much longer and many more men to infiltrate and steal the boy from the Keep! You are insane in your request," she exclaimed, her pride slowly taking control as her courage rose. "I did what you have asked of me!"
          "Yes, but you took steps that I would not have taken. You actions at Pacific Corner do not constitute your safety, nor do they assure your money. Pray that your rash killings are not linked to me. Do not worry about the Keep, for I have information that there will be certain...reassignments that will take place to make sure that getting in and out will be easy enough. Do not fail me," Paga demanded. Instead of a response, the intercom clicked and Paga knew that she had left after his final statement. He smiled and pressed the first button on the comlink, and for a moment there were only the beeps of it connecting to the Keep.
          "This is Private Hanson," said the voice on the other line.
          "Indeed. This is your leader, Paga Way," replied Paga.
          "Oh! Glad to speak to you!" Paga almost laughed as he pictured the soldier saluting although he was not in his presence. It was required of the soldier to do so and as of yet, it yielding no ill consequences for doing so.
          "I would like to issue the resignation of 200 of your men at the Keep," Paga coldly stated.
          "But sir, no one can leave The Reckoning. There are no resignations without death."
          "As I would know this, Private Hanson, for I am the one who instituted such a procedure." Annoyed, there was hint of cynicism in Paga's voice. Even though he was only 25, he could easily shatter the will of any man. "And thus, if you do not wish to meet the same fate as these 200 men, I would suggest you listen closely, because otherwise I will make sure many more meet the same path you do."
          "Yes sir. I was only making sure."
          "Of course you were." Paga read the names of the 200 men, strategically chosen for their job in the jail center and finally read the last name on the list. Afterwards, he waited until the private had each and every one written down. "I realize that a few of these men are on their way to the Keep as we speak and that many are your superiors, but it does not make them invincible to my decision."
          "Yes sir. What do we do about the lack of men, sir?"
          "Do not worry yourself with such troubles, Private." Paga kept his malicious smile as he spoke. He reached his hand over a button on his desk and pressed it. A curtain on the west side of the room opened, revealing a large bookcase. He pressed another button and the bookcase revolved quickly, showing a figure with angel wings sleeping soundly in a container of greenish liquid. "I doubt that such a horrid circumstance will make itself known in these moments.” Paga pressed a button on the intercom, leaving the private to follow Paga's command without a second though.
          Paga stood up and walked over to the sleeping figure, touching the cool cylindrical Plexiglas. He frowned as he looked at the marking across its bodies. "How it is sad that you were punished for wanting what I am about to receive. All creatures shall bow down to me and not even God himself can lay waste upon my form and spirit." In the quickness of only half a second, the figure's eyes opened.
          Staring into them, Paga saw the implosion of the universe three times over. It was magnificent in all of its destruction and lights, and Paga could hardly help himself from reaching into the container and claiming the Faint Figure's eyes as his own. "You are truly blessed as your brothers and sisters were not, number 27. You will see the light of day and in basking in it, you will find the key which will open the gate Omega IV." Paga smiled and waited as the Faint Figure closed its eyes again.
          On Reckoning's ship, Harold sat in the farthest corner from everybody else. The air was damp and heavy with the amount of carbon dioxide in such a small space made him uneasy. He looked at the guards who stood stationary near the door on the far side; the black visors in their red helmets made their faces invisible and with the uniformity of their armored attire, it was impossible to pick one from another. "What are you looking at punk?" one of them said to Harold. The guard stepped towards him and raised the butt of his rifle as if to bludgeon Harold with it, but the other guard grabbed the weapon and told his companion that "the maggot" wasn't worth it.
          'God, they even sound the same!' Harold thought as he turned his head towards the small group of 25 men. Some of them looked nervous; most of them looked like they already had died. The grim looks on their faces made Harold shiver despite the massive amount of heat his skin was feeling; it made the hair on the back of his neck reach out to try to touch the metal wall he was sitting against; it made one of the prisoners stand up. For a moment, Harold thought that the guards would surely lay him to waste, but as the man made for the side door they made no attempt to stop him. The man easily pushed the two guards out of the way and opened the door. Immediately, the pressurization of the cabin became unstable and everyone held on for dear life, except for the two guards who didn't seem affected.
          Everything moved slowly for Harold as he watched the event: The man screamed something about not waiting any longer. Some of his friends tried reaching out for him. Nothing could prevent him from jumping out the door. Then it was followed by the sickening sound of his screaming while he was burned to a crisp by the ships engines. The sound and the smells were etched into Harold’s mind: the smell of not being able to handle the concept of living another day; of knowing that hell lay ahead and you were not prepared; of burning flesh. The guards closed the door with ease and became stationary again.
          "Huh...third one today," one of them said, as he stared straight ahead. The other guard looked at him and shrugged.
          "Makes me glad we have these gravity boots. We could've been sucked out." Both of them laughed. The intercom in the ship came on and a voice echoed throughout the prisoner ship. With its robotic words, it told all the prisoners what they had feared the very moment that they were put on the ship. Harold looked at one of the other men and asked him where they were. When the man didn't answer, Harold asked again.
          "The Keep," the man said as he was forced to stand by one of the guards. Soon Harold was being forcefully dragged to stand up while the door to the ship opened for the second time. Light streamed from the outside world and it blinded Harold for a moment and he tried to block it with his hands, when he was reminded of the futility of the action as his right arm was nearly pulled out of its socket: His hands were still handcuffed behind his back. One of the guards pushed him off and as he got off the ship, he saw another man, clad in black and red but in more of a suit than armor talking to one of the guards and the pilot. Harold paused to try to hear what they were conversing about, and as he watched the suit man pulled out a pistol and shot both men in the chest. The guard fell down immediately dead and the pilot looked up in the crouch position and holding his chest.
          The other guard pushed Harold just as suit man pointed the weapon at the pilot's head. Harold looked away towards the giant building they were being led in. 'What have I stepped into?' he thought as he gazed upon the gothic architecture: The sharp edges of the buildings easily pierced he hopes of any of its occupants; the gargoyles were the monster men saw in their nightmares; even the cherubim of the inside looked sinister in the war they seemed to study that passerby. The ceiling rose to a nearly incomprehensible height and the smell of blood was everywhere.
          A gunshot rang out and echoed in the Keep. For a moment, Harold tried to feel some sympathy for the pilot and guard that were killed for whatever reasons the suit man found fit. However, he reminded himself that they were the ones that brought him there in the first place. "I hope they burn in hell..." he uttered. He was pushed by a rifle again and as he continued walking, he locked eyes with the suit man. For the first time since he had encountered everything in Ursula, he felt that he could truly die where he stood. The cold, unfeeling gaze of the suit man lit Harold's soul on fire and caused agony by its mere recognition of Harold's existence...
          Vee Jay and Jacob Lee sat across from each other in the upper floor of the Keep. There was an eerie understanding of the current position of everything between them, so no words were being uttered as they looked at the map of Ursula. Vee Jay began tying his blonde hair behind him in a pony tail as Jacob began playing with one of his knives. Finally as they watched the replay from the video feed from the battle at Precinct 5, Jacob spoke up.
          "See anything odd about that battle?" Jacob asked. Vee jay shook his head and tried looking closer. The formation of the Reckoning was perfect, all the commands were carried out without flaw and the body count of the opposing Insurgence was growing rapidly. Vee Jay looked up from the blue hologram of dots and triangles on the map to look at Jacob Lee. He shook his head again. "The Major Viale: It didn't lend one ounce of support."
          Vee Jay shrugged and then paused for a second, as if thinking. Finally he pointed to the surrounding precincts, moving his hand and indicating with his finger the path the Reckoning took to reach Precinct 5. Then, still seeing the look of confusion on Jacob's face, he switched the picture to the vacuum of space that Ursula hung within. He indicated a large dot on the screen and then sped up the time. It disappeared.
          "I see. They cloaked themselves. But that doesn't make any sense! Why would they cloak themselves knowing that we had information of their location just to stay in that empty area?" Jacob rubbed his head and Vee smiled. It made him happy to witness Jacob in such a manner and he always remembered the aura of frustration that was soon followed by an intellectual epiphany. Jacob Lee looked at Vee Jay and shook his head. He hated that fact that Vee Jay never spoke and always seemed to be playing a game with him. If there was one thing he missed about betraying his brother, Baquet, it was that his older brother never took advantage of Jacob for the purpose of humor. "Unless they didn't stay in the area…” Vee Jay kept his smile and nodded.
          "They must have landed somewhere, but where is the question and why didn't Baquet request help from his ship?" Jacob asked aloud. He sighed heavily as the comlink in the war room beeped. Vee Jay pressed the button and the voice they grew to know began speaking:
          "It has come to my attention that a certain number of prisoners have made home to the Keep," the young and foul qualities of the voice automatically labeled him as Vee's and Jacob's leader. Jacob stood up immediately and Vee merely leaned forward slightly as if analyzing his voice. Casting a glance at Vee that held the sneering attitude Jacob now held, he relayed the envious message he had been feeling ever since he had joined the Reckoning. "It has also come to my concerns that there is tension between you and Vee Jay, Jacob." Jacob turned to the comlink station and then at Vee Jay, who merely looked at the comlink.
          "But, how-"
          "However, it does not mean that I will go unnoticed and that my interests will be rendered obsolete; for as you have seen for yourself, my distrust of you grows thicker as the days pass, Jacob. And if you even begin proving my beliefs otherwise, I must testify proof that you are known for betrayal if the right amount is taut within your reach. So, I advise you, turn your attention towards me and listen before I lose my temper."
          Jacob growled slightly, his teeth bore in the animalistic nature that could scare small children and their mothers alike. "Yes sir."
          "Very well, then. As I stated before, there is the possibility that a very valuable, yet unfortunate, individual has entered your midst in the guise of a prisoner. But worry not, he does not know of his importance and you will not alert him of such. Since the information that has been relayed to me has the chance of holding false qualities, I want you to reaffirm my suppositions and inquire each of the prisoners of their standing and lives," Paga stated. His voice was calculated just as his choice of words were and although Jacob had never seen him himself, he knew that Paga that one of those wise old men who gained power by bribery. Not that flaunting money mattered, but little did the brutal mind that Jacob fathomed, it mattered how wrong he was on the subject of Paga's appearance.
          "We will follow your command, sir."
          "And that is where the problem lies in all of this, Jacob. The "you" I spoke of did not include the services you could provide. I believe Vee Jay is more talented in these matters of interrogations."
          Vee Jay merely smiled and bowed. Jacob clenched his fists in anger, his mind racing with the possibilities of what he'd do when Vee Jay fell asleep. The soft sound of Jacob's sharp breathing made the entirety of the Keep uncomfortable, even while Vee sat coolly in his seat. Jacob turned to him and then back at the comlink, committed to speaking his mind.
          "How is he supposed to interrogate them if he can't even ask them the damn questions? I should be doing that! Paga, you know that I would do it without a second thought!” He slammed his fist on the table, turning off the hologram the two were looking at with a mere vibration of the contact.
          "Vee Jay has his ways. Concerning your ability to accomplish tasks, I have yet to hear of your brother's death," Paga Way brought to point. The air cooled to an uneasy level as Jacob's sneer turned into a frown as he looked at the ground in shame. "However, seeing how eager you are to put yourself in action, I shall give you a task to do so. Locate the Major Viale and kill your brother, but do not harm the ship, I have use for it yet. Finding the location of Baquet is up to your own trials and errors as I am sure that you will have many. I want you to see his face when you kill him, that's an order."
          The comlink clicked, leaving Jacob and Vee Jay alone in the room again. Jacob grabbed his blue jacket from the hook and downloaded the hologram into his personal computer. Vee Jay drank from a nearby wine glass and he snickered, or at least that is what connection Jacob could make to the sound. Jacob turned around and drew his pistol.
          "I never thought I'd say this, but if you don't shut the hell up right now, I'll make sure you never speak a single word again!" Jacob yelled as he looked at Vee Jay. He was still calm as he looked deeply into Jacob with his gray eyes. In a flash, the air made a small booming sound as a dagger broke the sound barrier, nailing Jacob's right half of his shirt collar to the wall. Jacob looked down to see a few locks of his black hair fall onto the ground. A few more booms and thuds and those hairs were stuck to the walls with pins. Vee Jay snickered at the sight and turned his chair around, drinking again out of his glass. Jacob tore his shirt free, leaving the locks of hair on the wall. "Bastard." he said as he left.
~
          The ruins of the city towers made a makeshift hill for Baquet Lee to climb up on. The massacre, for it was not a battle, was to haunt his nightmares as long as he should live. He only prayed that he would turn out to be immortal so at some point, he could exact his revenge and turn everything right. His personal vendetta, rather than his need for political and social freedom, made him walk on the gray and black rubble. Upon reaching the top, he stood up strong and tall. The wind blew heavily, moving his large overcoat so it covered most of his body and the sun shone through the smog, causing the light to become a brilliant and foreboding red that changed Baquet’s complexion from that of a nervous leader alone in Precinct Five, to that of a man who craved revenge. His skin held the same color of the fire in his heart as he walked back down, his rifle strapped to his back and a pistol in his right hand.
          As he walked down the street, he surveyed the buildings that were still standing, trying to keep his mind off of the fact that he was stepping on the skeletal remains of the Insurgence. He pondered the possibility of stationing himself on top of one of the buildings and waiting until a second wave of the Reckoning came so he can pick them off one by one. Shaking his head, he destroyed the thought mainly because that his rifle would be very inaccurate at such a distance. A groan reached Baquet's ears and he looked down. He was standing on the hand of an infantry man. Baquet felt remorse until his noticed his attire.
          The red and black uniform was familiar to Baquet Lee; he had worn them seven years ago and in those days, he believed that he had fought for order, honor, and the lives of those who should have lived them to the fullest. Yet, as he stared through the shattered mask of the surprisingly young individual, his kind and caring emotions left him entirely. He didn't want to believe that this boy could be holding the same ideals that Baquet had taken as his own seven years ago and thus he reacted by reaching into his holster and pulling out his revolver.
          "Help me..." The soldier coughed up blood and Baquet didn't blink. He knew that the young man was struggling to breathe and gather his thoughts and for a moment, Baquet wanted to push the large piece of rubble off of his legs. Instead, he continued to stare until the soldier of the Reckoning began closing his eyes; possibly to sleep or maybe to die.
          "What is your name, kid?" Baquet inquired, his revolver still out, but dangling from his fingers. The wind blew again and as Baquet breathed in, he could sense the taste of ash on his tongue. He hoped to God that it wasn't the ash of his brethren.
          The kid coughed four a few seconds. "Forgo." he coughed again, sending more blood across the street. "Forgo Moon..." He looked at Baquet, and shuddered as he noticed the coldness in his eyes, the lack of color even though Baquet's was blue. They were dead to young man and he knew what meaning lay behind them.
          "Forgo Moon, may God help you, for the treason that you have committed is far too much for any jury to judge upon you," Baquet said as he slowly loaded his revolver with a bullet. He didn't look at the soldier and he found that he didn't want to, because in a way, he was punishing him and redeeming him. Parts of Baquet didn't want to choose which one. "In hell, I hope you find your heaven in hell as your leader will. Your destiny was made as you played your part in this grand Net," He put the chamber back into the gun and pointed it at the soldier's head. "And you have played it well. Through the suffering, I hope you find peace when this is done."
          Austin, Paris, and Jeremy turned their heads sharply as they heard the gunshot. It was coming from the west and as far as they could tell, the place was deserted. Paris wondered who had fired the shell, but as Austin turned towards the second street, he knew that Austin had somehow acquired that information. He grew to expect this from Austin and they wandered farther into the city.
          "Shouldn't we comlink Baquet, Austin?" asked Jeremy. He turned to look behind him and then back towards their makeshift leader who was in the front. When Austin didn't answer, he tapped Paris on the shoulder and asked him the very same question.
          "Do as you wish, but we are going to be seeing him very soon," was all Paris said to Jeremy. Jeremy wanted to ask him how he gained such knowledge, but then decided not to. It seemed that although Jeremy had been on the Major Viale longer than Paris, he knew much less about what was going on. He looked towards the sky and frowned as he saw a streak of blue go across it. "Do you think that we might be ambushed when we go back up? The Reckoning is bound to know that we down here."
          For the first time since they landed, Austin spoke. In fact he laughed. "You have no idea how the Reckoning operates, do you?" he didn't wait for an answer and Paris turned just in time to see Jeremy's head shake a no. "They attack, win, and then move on. Anything else on their agenda would have been carried out already unless it is in their plans to wait so long to kill us."
          "But isn't that a possibility."
          "Then we're screwed either way, aren't we?" Austin stated. Jeremy sighed and he wondered why Paris was laughing. Maybe war had an adverse effect on them, and he wondered if he would react the same way when time took such tolls on him. Better yet, he wondered if he should act in the same manner. All three of jumped behind a still standing building as the wind picked up. Precinct 5 was known well for its tornadoes and as it would seem, there was one not too far off. A Razorblade, out of fuel and useless, skidded across the ground and flew off into the distance, exploding as it hit a tall statue of an angel. "Come on. We have to keep moving." No sooner had Austin said this, he saw a figure walking from the large dust and ash storm.
          Paris could make out an overcoat and a gun and all three of them realized that it was Baquet Lee. The wind was too strong for any of them to move forward him without injury and Paris wondered why Baquet wasn't being thrown towards them. It took a while until they saw that he had pick axe stuck into the ground and that it was being dragged through the concrete with Baquet's other hand. When he got close enough, they took him into the alley in which they hid and started walking back to the Major Viale.
          "Austin, I thought that I ordered you to stay in orbit," Baquet said. Austin smiled and he looked back, seeing the same smile on Baquet. The alleyways were dark and smelled of decaying flesh and every so often, they would come in contact with a master less limb. It was enough to drive the bowels of any man mad.
          "Yeah. I was growing restless. You lost your comlink."
          "How did you know?"
          "You would have contacted us as soon as the battle was done." Baquet laughed and patted Austin on the back. Immediately the mood of the four travelers turned more cheerful. However, in each of their minds, they knew the grim truth of what Baquet had witnessed and what the other three barely missed. The Insurgence lost this battle and they would surely lose others. "Once we get back, we need to refuel and go to Pacific Corner. If there ever was a planet that could stand up to the Reckoning if even for a few months, that is where it would be and we need to make sure that we are there," Baquet stated. They all knew this as true however, and wondered if the Forenzi guards would welcome them in such a short notice. Paris decided to speak what was on their minds.
          "What about the Forenzi Guards? Without proper arrangements, those priests will surely send us packing," he asserted. "Their power is the stuff that legends are made of, and they will irrefutably use them against us if we meddle."
          "Yes, as that is true it is also true that we must meddle," Baquet explained. They finally reached the Major Viale and as they walked on board, he added, "However, the answers that we want are not in the questions that we pose and thus we cannot go on with them unanswered. We need to find out what the Toolbox is."
          Ever since Baquet had learned the purpose of the Toolbox was, let alone the Shed and the Screwdriver, he had been the leader of the Insurgence. He found the Toolbox's purpose to be of the malicious kind and when he had discovered that Paga Way had acquired the use of the Toolbox for his own purposes, he vowed to stop him. However, none of them could not muster the power to do so as of yet and thus he sought to find his own weapons to stop the destruction of the universe. Rested well in his dreams and hidden from reality was the truth that the three items were in fact people and not objects. Jeremy closed the door the Major Viale and they took off.