Equilibrium: Chapter II

II

The Chair

Lord Tyrannus opened his eyes. At first he was unsure whether his eyes were even open to begin with. Everything around him was pitch black, an unnatural darkness which seemed to engulf Tyrannus‘ invisible form. Tyrannus tried to get up, but his arms were restrained by an unknown force, perhaps a metal brace. He stared intently at the darkness where his hands should be, hoping that his eyes would soon adjust, but nothing happened. Tyrannus shook his head, unable to focus. His mind was racing, but he remained calm. Tyrannus tried once again to focus on the area where the darkness consumed his hands. Suddenly, the atmosphere around him changed to a greenish black tint. He began to make out different shapes and objects all around him, though the background was still shrouded in black shadows. After further observation, he realized that he was chained to a chair carved with intricate designs. Images of angels and demons were carved in the strange piece of furniture, battling what seemed to be a battle of the millennium. Tyrannus studied it intently, but could make no sense of this strange chair. He looked back down at his right arm and was surprised at what he saw. His entire arm, no, entire body was dressed in this metallic, almost medieval armor. It is hard to describe the look of the armor other than it was fairly simplistic. There were no designs or ruffles, just smooth and metallic, like one would expect a futuristic warrior to wear. The overall appearance confounded Tyrannus, but swallowing his fear, Tyrannus leaned back to think his way through this puzzling situation.  All he needed was one arm. Then, possibly, he could get the other one free. He calculated that he could wrench himself out, using the leverage of his body against the chair. However, he realized that his plan could also potentially dislocate his arm. Tyrannus thought back to his spy books that he read in the Library. They had many methods of escaping ropes, but Tyrannus’ captor seemed smarter than that, bolting him down with some kind of metal bracket. Then it hit Tyrannus. Who was his captor? Perhaps if he knew the identity, he could devise a way to get him to let him free. Tyrannus thought back to what happened before he found himself chained to a chair. His visions were blurry, but he seemed to remember something about his school, the courtyard, the--massacre. Tyrannus stopped. He suddenly remembered that white cloaked figure who seemed to blow in the wind, as if he were made of smoke. Tyrannus remembered the hood which cast a dark shadow over the unknown face of his captor. He remembered a scythe, and then darkness. Tyrannus felt slightly relieved at discovering at least partial identity, but became increasingly frustrated with lack of knowledge on how to escape. Tyrannus looked desperately down at his arm. The room was quiet, and that unnerved Tyrannus. He had been sitting there for many moments now, and he was sure that his captor knew he was awake. Tyrannus wriggled in the chair, but the bonds only seemed to tighten around his arm. Now working his way into a fit of panic, Tyrannus began to squirm more, hoping to squeeze out of these evil bonds. The room seemed to shrink around Tyrannus. Claustrophobia slowly eased into Tyrannus’ frightened mind, causing him to become nauseated. Unable to take it anymore, Tyrannus tried once more to leap out of the chair. Not expecting anything miraculous, Tyrannus was  stunned at the event which followed his desperate attempt at escape. His entire armored left arm burst into a cloud of thick black smoke, releasing it from the bonds of the chair. Tyrannus wasn’t sure weather it was his arm, or the chair, but he was overjoyed to get it free. The smoke suspended in the air, looked as if it were being vacuumed into Tyrannus’ arm. Within moments, the smoke was gone, and Tyrannus’ left arm was free. Unfortunately, the excitement did not last long. Being already lifted out of the seat by his attempted leap to freedom, Tyrannus was slammed into the floor, sending hot pain through his right arm. Apparently, the smoke trick worked only on one limb at a time. Now slightly calmer, Tyrannus tried once more to release his right arm. Bracing himself onto the chair, Tyrannus hoisted himself up as much as he could in an attempt to stand. Tyrannus started yanking on the chain, hard. Suddenly, he heard a scuffle behind him. He whirled around. The green-tinted landscape was still. There was nothing around him. He looked at the floor. Nothing. He heard the scuffle again, this time louder. It sounded something like a pitter-patter of nails on a floor. An animal maybe? Tyrannus squinted at the floor. The fear began to settle back into Tyrannus’ mind. There was definitely something in the room with him and he couldn’t see it. Tyrannus, not wanting to be taken by surprise any more than he already was, stared intently at the floor of the cavern. He deducted that some sort of creature was crawling around. Being only a sixteen year old boy, Tyrannus had all sorts of horrid images flash through his mind. Tyrannus shook his head, but the images only became more vivid. Tyrannus couldn’t take it anymore. He opened his mouth to yell, but a strange event happened. In a flash, the room changed from green to a multitude of blues, aquas, and limes. Tyrannus flinched and quickly closed his mouth. He noticed that the shapes weren’t as defined as they used to be, and also slightly more rounded. Tyrannus knew that he had read about this before, but could not bring it to his lips. Confused, he looked back down at the floor. Small red and yellow figures darted back and forth all around him. Everywhere they went, they left four small red dots on the floor that after a few moments, faded back to blue. Then, it struck Tyrannus. Thermal vision. Tyrannus, now realizing that his terrifying beasts were actually rats, focused back onto his imprisonment. His right arm was still chained down and tighter than he had remembered it. Suddenly, something caught Tyrannus’ attention. He noticed that his entire body was a bluish color, including the small un-armored portions. If memory served him correctly, the human body was supposed to produce heat, creating a pinkish red aura in a thermal scanner. One mystery kept piling up one after the other. Tyrannus was unsure if he could take anymore of the insanity. 
Tyrannus averted his attention back to his arm. No matter how hard he yanked, the chain would not give. The room was now quiet, the pattering of clawed feet had subsided.  He looked around. All of the rats had left the room. He whipped his head back down to his arm. It was hopeless, Tyrannus was trapped. He noticed that the room was growing increasingly colder. Tyrannus suddenly wanted someone to help him. He wasn’t strong or brave. All of those thoughts about ruling the world were silly, and Tyrannus knew it. He remembered the school, and the horrible event that took place some unknown time ago. Tyrannus then realized that he wasn’t weak, just unsure. He suddenly realized that the cold had increased to a nearly unbearable level. Now back to his normal sadistic self, Tyrannus began to rationalize the situation. He had somehow escaped the brace for his left hand with some sort of smoke apparition. Perhaps he could do it again. Tyrannus focused hard on his wrist where the chain was located, but no smoke emanated from his bizarre armor. Tyrannus closed his eyes, perhaps hoping that the feeling which brought on the smoke would return, but the cold affected his thinking. It was cold. It was freezing. Tyrannus snapped his eyes back open and noticed that the room was now a crystal blue. At first, Tyrannus thought it was the ice, but he laughed upon remembering his thermal vision. Tyrannus’ humor was not to last though because the excruciating cold seeped in through his suit, freezing his very soul. Tyrannus craved heat, craved warmth. The room got colder. Every move Tyrannus made, a small crack could be heard. He feared that this strange suit would fall apart, further exposing him to the intense cold and potentially killing him. It was cold. Tyrannus craved heat. Out of the corner of his eye, Tyrannus noticed a small flare of orange lining the arm brace which trapped Tyrannus in this icy prison. Slowly, the thin orange glow spread thicker, and moved to the center of the chain. The edges were now pink and yellow. Tyrannus noticed that the chained arm was rowing warmer, but he wasn’t sure how. He struggled to twist his frozen head to look at the strange phenomenon which took place around his arm. The chain flashed a bright pink, causing Tyrannus to shield his eyes with his left arm. The glow grew brighter, and the chain grew slightly disfigured. Tyrannus wasn’t sure if it was the chain that was disfiguring, or his vision was clouding from the aura of heat that was coming from nowhere. Tyrannus was baffled, but continued to indulge himself on the wondrous source of heat and unnatural light. He began to feel his arm less pressured, but now slightly warmer. Suddenly, a sharp burning sensation crept up Tyrannus’ arm. Tyrannus looked closely, gritting his teeth, and saw what was happening. 
“What the hell! The chain is melting!” Tyrannus wasn’t sure whether he should be happy or afraid. At the moment he was neither, just in excruciating pain. He jerked his arm away and shook it, vainly attempting to rid of the burning metal. His arm morphed into the black smoke and the lava dropped down like molten rain. His arm reformed to normal and he no longer felt the unrelenting burn. Thoroughly mystified, Tyrannus stared at his hands.
“What am I?” he inquired.
“Congratulations Lord Tyrannus,” a voice whispered. “You have passed your first test.” The voice seemed to echo all around Tyrannus, but came from no where in particular.
“Who’s there?” Tyrannus roared. There was no answer. The silence seemed to be gnawing at Tyrannus’ sanity. “Show yourself!”
Suddenly, the white cloaked figure appeared before Tyrannus’ eyes. He leapt back out of shock. The recognition was instant.
“Don’t look so surprised,” the being whispered.
“Who are you?” Tyrannus asked, his voice never faltering. :Why do you have me here?”
“Easy with the questions Tyrannus,” the being hissed. It almost seemed like a snake was talking. “Well I suppose we haven’t officially met,” the cloaked figure said, stressing the sarcasm on  “officially”.
“I am Master Slake Vermillion Cranus, your new master.”
Slake stood before Tyrannus, allowing the gravity of the situation to take a hold of his new apprentice.  However, Tyrannus seemed unfazed. Slake felt a twinge of fury. Everyone feared him. Even the puny demons that claimed to be ancient warriors feared Slake. Why was Tyrannus just standing there?
         “I’m not sure you know who I am.” Slake challenged. “I’m not so sure you even know who you are right now.”
         Tyrannus remained motionless. No words could describe the way he felt. In truth, Tyrannus was scared. Never before had he been kidnapped, much less taken hostage. He wasn’t sure of how he should react in a situation like this. The fear he felt now was more intense than before, because this wasn’t his imagination. Or was it? Tyrannus doubted the very reality of himself at the moment. He had no idea where he was, what he was doing, and who this person was in front of him. He wanted to leave. Tyrannus scanned the room; there was no door in sight. Besides, this Slake person had power that Tyrannus could not possibly imagine. To attempt to get past could cost Tyrannus his life, and though he wished dearly to end it, perhaps this Slake character could assist him. He paused for a moment. He reflected on the supernatural events which occurred only moments before Slake claimed his ownership over Tyrannus. He thought of his arm, the chain, and his weird vision. It was all very confusing, but Tyrannus had an idea that it had to be this suit he was wearing. He had seen robotic suits before, such as the HAL used by the USMFF and the RAL also used by special forces in the USMFF. They were highly advanced exo-suits, used to enhance the abilities of the wearer, such as strength. But never had Tyrannus heard of a suit which granted him supernatural abilities. If he knew what he could do, he could probably escape, but as of right now, it was a futile effort. Tyrannus had so many questions to ask this figure before him, but felt a tad bit nervous around him. There was something about Slake that was unnatural and disturbing. There was a feeling of death that hung around him, and Tyrannus didn’t wish to discover why. Instead, he found the courage to ask, “Why me?” It was a dumb question. Tyrannus knew it. He waited for an answer.
         Slake snorted with disgust. Being that he was Supreme Reaper, he had heard this plea many times. Though Tyrannus’ purpose for being in Slake’s possession was not to be reaped, for some strange reason, no one really wanted to die. Well, no one wanted to die without reason. It was Slake’s job to reap those who did not deserve to live and it was his job to set up a manner in which they are to be killed. It was a gruesome job, and the people were always so mournful and silent. However, it just made the job more enjoyable for Slake. He was a rule breaker. A Reaper takes the souls of the dead and transfers them to Hell. But for Slake, that was a job for goblins and demons, not him. He enjoyed slaying. Many referred to him as the Angel of Death. But Slake was no angel. Slake was a slave to Satan.
         “For now,” he thought.
         His thoughts reverted back to Tyrannus’ question. “Why me?” That was a stupid question. He was sure Tyrannus thought so as well. Just to keep him entertained, Slake tried to answer it with as much arrogance as he could.
         “If I told you that, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?” Slake sneered, then commenced laughing maniacally. He had taken to doing that recently in order to intimidate his victims. For mortals, it was a great success, but other-worldly creatures were not easily frightened.
         Tyrannus leapt forward with surprising ferocity, hoping to perhaps uncover a weakness which Slake hid beneath his white cloak. Slake merely chuckled.
         “Do you really dare challenge me?” Slake inquired. “Because I’m ready. I’ve been ready for a long time.”
         Tyrannus backed off. He was a little frightened by his own actions. Why had he charged? Unsure, he sat back down in the intricately carved chair. 
         “Wise decision.” Slake stared out at Tyrannus from behind his cloak. If only he could see the look on Tyrannus’ face. You see, Tyrannus’ suit included a helmet, which he had not yet discovered. It was fairly basic, a semi-triangle for a mouthpiece which was intersected by a disc. The top of the helmet was split in a “V” pattern, exposing a small part of a glowing orb. The slot for the eyes were in the shape of a “Y”, lining up perfectly below the V cut into the helmet. His eyes were a bright iridescent green, much like the half-orb exposed by the cut away. Slake felt proud of the design, but could not find the satisfaction in seeing Tyrannus’ reaction.
         Slake began pacing back and forth, following Tyrannus with his dark eyes. He wondered if he had made the right decision. He stared forward into the depths of their enclosure. Tyrannus was intimidating, no doubt about that, but he still needed training. There was a lot that he needed to learn. Slake looked around. He had but a small amount time until he needed to reap his next soul. He gazed at his scythe. It was, beautiful in a sense that it was perfect for his job. It always had a very shiny effect to it, with a line of black along the jagged edges of the blade. It wasn’t lame like the Oracle scythe that the Grim Reaper had to carry around or the Infinity scythe that Death wielded. No. Slake’s scythe was not one to be taken lightly. The Millennium Scythe. Forged by Seraphim to create a weapon capable of chaos, this scythe was made in the year 2000, and only a being such as Slake could wield it. Satan said that Slake had a lot in store for him, and he was ready. The items he received during his training for Supreme Reaper were more than those possessed by the soul-keepers of say Posterus, the Ghost of Christmas Future. These were one of a kind. His cloak, the Inferno cloak, was just as powerful and ominous as his scythe. Slake smiled. He casually glanced over to the chair that was in the center of the room. Slake stopped dead in his tracks. Tyrannus was no longer sitting there. He was surprised. No one had ever given him the slip before. He began to feel angry with himself. How could he let this happen?
         “Let me know when you’re done on memory lane,” said the voice of Tyrannus. Slowly, he materialized in front of Slake.
         “Ha. I see that you have learned of your intangibility,” Slake said, little impressed by the apprentice’s antics.
         “No, just merely contributing to what I already know,” Tyrannus replied coolly. “Now, I have lived my whole life learning for myself. Need I continue?” Tyrannus didn’t really know about his intangibility, or the fact that Slake didn’t see him standing behind him. Tyrannus was just sittign in the chair thinking about the smoke. Suddenly, it began to happen again, and Tyrannus felt suddenly like he had lost feeling in his limbs. He used what he knew to “walk” over to Slake, but had no idea that he was invisible, or even that he was a cloud of thick black smoke. But he didn’t let onto his ignorance and decided to play along with the game.
         Slake was a little frustrated with Tyrannus’ attitude towards him. He decided that a tiny mind game was in order.
         “Ooh, this should be fun,” Slake pondered with cruel satisfaction.
         Aloud, Slake began talking to Tyrannus in an instructive sort of manner. “Do you know who you are?”
         Tyrannus, behind his helmet, shuddered a bit. Still not wanting to appear weak, Tyrannus decided to pretend to provoke a challenge. “Oreus Sween. Come on…uh, Slake. What are you trying to do here?”
         Slake laughed. This was too easy. He knew Tyrannus was bluffing, he could tell by his obviously yellow aura, the phenomenon only visible to soul-capturers to determine emotions or status of a being. “Tyrannus, what if I told you that your whole life, you had been living a lie?”
         Tyrannus quickly dropped his fasad and gave in to the game. “I…I’m sorry?” Tyrannus stammered.
         “For sixteen years, you have been living…in a simulation.” Slake could not control himself. The evil of this whole scenario was just too exciting. Seeing someone so potentially powerful, crumble, was most satisfactory to him.
         Tyrannus was speechless. The more he thought about it, he more he thought of how preposterous it was. There was no way his entire life was a simulation. From his knowledge, a simulation is a short computer based event in which the atmosphere changes, but not yourself. Tyrannus knew for a fact that he had been little once and grew up in this ‘simulation‘ that Slake was talking about. By modern technology standards, it was impossible. “You’re lying Slake. My memories, they are so vivid! I remember when my—“
         Slake interrupted. “Tyrannus. Those sixteen years of Oreus were part of training. You were never Oreus Sween in real life”.
         Tyrannus knew this must be a test. He became angry. Slake was lying to him. How cruel a joke this was. Tyrannus had the desire to kill Slake. This was too much for him to bear.
“You LIAR!” Tyrannus screamed.
He ran as fast as he could towards Slake, building up his momentum to throw himself across the room. He didn’t expect to accomplish much, just to throw Slake off balance. Slake merely stood there. Tyrannus closed in on him. The air was becoming stale. Tyrannus could feel it. What Tyrannus was about to experience would ruin him for a lifetime. He leapt into the air. Slake still remained in the same position, never faltering. Tyrannus came down hard on the ground, missing Slake by a matter of inches. He was breathing like a wounded beast. The anger welled up in him in unbearable amounts. This Slake who had done nothing but cruelly torture Tyrannus had now pulled the final straw with Tyrannus’ little patience. The two stared at each other for a long time until Tyrannus snapped. He lunged right for Slake. Slake calmly held out his scythe. Tyrannus grabbed it and ripped it out of Slake’s hands. Instantly, he knew something was very wrong. He could feel himself slipping, slipping into a hole that had no bottom. Tyrannus’ vision went black. He felt as if someone was ripping apart his very substance. Each molecule was being painfully separated from his very substance, and thrown into a swirling abyss. And then, light. It was a blinding light. Tyrannus opened his eyes. He saw that he was standing on what seemed to be a patch of grass. There were sidewalks all around. He looked up the street a ways and saw that the White House was just behind the fence. He remembered reading about it, the most important government building in the DRUSNAL, the Democratic Republic of the United States of North American Legions. He started walking toward it, then, he stopped. He was no longer on the sidewalk, but now stood directly in front of the White House, gazing up at it. Tyrannus was thoroughly confused. It seemed that he had walked from the outside of the gate to the inside in no time at all. Figuring that he must triggered some sort of teleportation, Tyrannus switched his train of thought to experience the awesomeness of standing before such a prestigious place, where so many great men ruled the USA, until the Reformation of 2027. Then it happened, a gunshot broke the silence of the eerily quiet streets of DC. Tyrannus ducked. A man in a fine black suit ran from inside the building, clutching his stomach. Blood was spattering everywhere. Then, another man ran from inside the house. He was dressed in black and carried a bulging bag. Tyrannus instantly recognized him. He was the greatest assassin in the history of history. His name was unknown, and he was notorious for killing and then vanishing, only to be seen a few short years later after another political figure. But, there was one assassination that he blundered on and Tyrannus realized that this had to be it. That is the reason why the assassin’s face was known worldwide. He still got away, but he was officially marked Public Enemy Number One, and he was hunted for fifty years. The assassin bent over the president. What was he doing? Tyrannus looked up. There was a school bus. It had stopped; all of the children had their faces pressed against the glass. A boy stood outside of the iron gate of the front lawn staring at the body of the former president. The assassin and the boy made eye contact. The wail of police sirens could be heard from all over. After many moments, the assassin picked up his bag and slunk away. He would not be back for another two years for his final kill. Tyrannus ran up to the boy. He remembered this boy. Who was he? The boy was small, thin, and about four feet high. He had sandy-blonde hair and unnaturally bright green eyes. The boy had tears in his eyes. He was so sad and upset, his father, lying on the lawn. Dead. Wait. How did Tyrannus know that was his father? Tyrannus got up. He knew that this boy, this boy would spend the rest of life looking for a killer that would never be found. Tyrannus felt a tear stream down his face. The boy looked up at him. For an instant, Tyrannus knew the boy. But he wasn’t quite sure from where. The boy looked like he wanted to say something, but it never came out. Tyrannus crouched down to get eye level with the boy. There was something familiar…something about his eyes.
Tyrannus stood up straight. It was clear who he was. Who the boy was. He stared down at the boy. But there was no boy. There was the dank cavern floor. He turned around. There Slake stood, holding the scythe, waiting. Tyrannus was at a loss for words.
“Sad isn’t it?” Slake suggested.
“You…you killed my father.” Tyrannus quavered. He could feel anger overcoming him once more, but this time in a stronger wave. He wasn’t sure how long he could hold back from killing Slake. But Tyrannus restrained himself and turned his back to Slake.
“I know. Kind of a cliché don’t you think? That seems to happen a lot. Your master killing the one you loved most.” Slake knew he hit the nail on that statement. Tyrannus wheeled around.
“Let me remind you, you joined me Tyrannus. I remember a young boy, coming to me. This was all on your own accord.” Slake waited for the response. Tyrannus’ shoulders sagged. After all, Tyrannus didn’t seem to even remember his father, or his true past. Tyrannus wasn’t even sure if he understood the last statement Slake said. It was all very confusing, and Tyrannus’ mind raced with questions. After a few moments of silence, Tyrannus looked up.
“Slake, my duty is to you now. I am not sure exactly why, but I am here for whatever you brought me here for. Teach me all that you wish for me to know.”
Slake grinned. “Excellent. We start tomorrow.” And with that, he walked towards a strange portal which seemed to open out of nowhere, leaving Tyrannus alone in the room. Of course, when the time came for Tyrannus to turn on him, Slake would be ready. Until then, he had a job to do, and bigger things to take care of. With a casual twirl of his scythe, Slake stepped through the vortex and disappeared. Tyrannus stared at where the white cloaked figure once stood. Hate filled his soul. He would learn what he needed. And when the time came, destiny will decide what the fate of Tyrannus’ father’s murderer will be. Tyrannus lay down on the cold floor and closed his eyes. He thought of what he was fighting for, a better world. But what had happened to him? He became what he despised most. Was it possible that he had ruined what he was destined for? Tyrannus dismissed these thoughts as preposterous and made an attempt at sleep. Finding himself dreadfully uncomfortable, he walked over to the carved chair. Tyrannus plopped down and ran his fingers through the carvings. Once again, Tyrannus tried desperately to fall asleep. However, there would be no sleep for him tonight. Nor would there ever be.