Chapter 7: Wolf in the Fox House

(Content warnings: suicidal thoughts, body horror, violence.)

    The life of a legatus is one fraught with danger and frustration. Whether you want to do something or not is never a question. Legatio are designated by Praetor Chroma as needed, and whenever one hasn't been provided for more than a day, a legatus is expected to seek out their own lower priority case to pass the time. There's a reason that legati are often called 'wolves' in a derogatory way. The Republic calls and we heel, regardless of what else we'd rather be doing. On a normal day, I'd be thrilled to be given a tough mission. Where other members of division 505 sought out the simple cases that could be dealt with from a desk, I always aim for the more dangerous and difficult, which take me off the beaten path. No, dear listener, I'm not trying to persuade you that I'm some sort of badass who doesn't afraid of anything. The honest truth is I simply like things straightforward. Point me in the direction of a target, let me investigate, interrogate and adjudicate and then I can sleep easy for a night knowing my work is done for another day. The more dangerous and difficult cases in division 505 were always straightforward like this. Deal with the dangerous parts yourself and then report the findings to Mirari or Eidolon to handle the abuse and errors in their systems. It was simple and I was good at it.

    This, I am not good at. Laying back in a chair I can't escape from, my captor tortures me, yanking parts of my hair, giggling with every sign of discomfort I show. A dark red liquid trickles down the back of my neck, permanently staining the plain white vest I'm wearing. If it were a normal day, I'd be looking for any way to free myself and take my own pound of flesh from the one who tortured me. An eye for an eye makes the world go blind, but not when IIs are ready and available at a cheaper rate.

    The stench of bleach and other chemicals has permeated the entire lab as the woman interrogates me, knowing that I can't escape any time soon. This was the mission, and it was not one I would have ever chosen for myself.

    Gelu continues to harass me with so many questions, even an actual hair stylist would take a vow of silence in respect.

    "You're going to meet her for coffee!? How come you never come around here for dinner anymore, Fuuchan? Me and Iggy miss you, you know!"

    I sigh, thinking back to the legatio I'd received and how fun it had seemed at a glance. Get a disguise, go undercover, expose the Apologists' hideout. What I hadn't expected was that Chroma would outsource the disguise work to the one person in The Republic I could never shut up. Gelu poked and prodded at my scalp, making sure to work the chemicals all the way down to my roots. Where once had been lifeless grey, soon colour would flourish, bringing with it new life to Fulgur Ovid.

    "Okay, Fuuchan, you can sit up now, it's all done."

    "I can finally leave?" I ask, letting the excitement slip into my voice.

    "Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, this isn't like a duoverse makeover. I just meant I was done applying the hair dye. Now we have to let it sit for 45 minutes. While we're waiting I can get your contacts ready and you can tell me more about Ovidia."

    I could quit as a legatus, I remind myself. There are always legion members desperate to take rank. 505 is a sought after division, too. They'd have me replaced in less than a day.

    "I don't have anything to tell. I've already missed two of the invites because of missions. I didn't even respond when she set the plans for this one."

    "You won't let her down again, will you, Fuuchan?" Gelu places both of her hands on my shoulders, pouting as she looks into my eyes. It's comforting. The feeling of her metal hands on my flesh shoulders. Those same cynets had once massaged and rubbed my flesh and bone limbs back before they were replaced with steel and carbon fiber. At all hours of the night, Gelu had always been there to soothe me until I fell asleep. Eventually I outgrew the massages and hugs, opting to lock the door and bear the pain alone, rather than the embarrassment of being coddled by a stranger. I take her hands in my own, seeing the sun-kissed flesh, but feeling the lifeless metal. I gently lift them off of me, before letting them go. Even with me sitting, I'm able to look her straight in the eye. Gone are the days of her towering over me.

    "Why are you the one doing this? And why do I never see Canis around anymore? Did he finally pass away after all these years?" Gelu just laughed, playfully punching me in the arm as she went to prepare something else at a table. The clang of metal echoed through the lab.

    "Iggy is busy, as always with his secret projects for the arbiters. Ever since they found out what your cynets could do he's barely gotten any sleep between all the meetings they drag him into." She came back over, carrying two small brown contacts in solution. "Open your eyes wide now! There we-go! As for why I'm the one doing this, it's because I'm so good at it... and I asked Toko-chan to let me mess with you any way I can."

    Toko-chan, aka Praetor Chroma, had really been abusing her power lately. "She seems to think I'm a doll recently with this and the Corvus thing." Despite the annoyance in my voice, I'd already complied, following Gelu's instructions as though they were orders from Chroma herself. 

    "Oh, that was a fun one! This time it'll be even more fun though." I'm not surprised at all that Gelu had seen the duotar Chroma had tortured me with. The two weren't exactly the closest of friends, but Chroma knew how to keep up appearances, should she ever need a favour from anyone. I feel an uncomfortably cold sensation as Gelu places each of the contacts on top of my IIs. It doesn't hurt at all, but certainly feels weird as Gelu's precise cynets do their job. Her limbs were no where near as powerful as mine, but they made up for it with surgical precision. While Canis was a genius who mapped the human brain to its fundamental level, Gelu had always been his secret partner in more ways than one. I'mprints couldn't be named on patents, medical journals or marriage certificates, but her fingerprints were all over everything Canis had ever created, despite not having any fingers to print.

    "So it's because you're good at playing dress up?" I ask, blinking a few times to adjust to the lenses.

    "No, no, no, no, no, my sweet little innocent, Fuuchan. It's because what we're doing right now is practically a dead art. It's easy to disguise someone in the duoverse, and it's also not hard to pretty someone's real body up with surgery and implants, but for the Apologists you need to go old school. Like pre-fall old-school. Most of them won't be connected to the duoverse and plenty of them know how to spot fresh hair transplants and synthetic skin molds. I used to be really into this thing called cosplay -so was Iggy, though... I think he was more into me dressing up than actually doing it himself."

    "TMI!"

    "Aaaaaanyway, even Apologists that are trained to spot Republic citizens trying to blend in among them don't notice the simple stuff like this. All we do is change your hair and eyes, and as long as you stop acting like a grumpy wolf, they'll never know you weren't one of them." I grin, exposing my teeth like the wolf I am, which elicits a laugh from Gelu. "Okay, Fuuchan, it doesn't sound like you had much of a breakfast since you skipped out on Ovidia, so come eat with me while you tell me your plan of attack for when you meet her. Gotta pass the time before we put in the hair extensions anyway."

    "... the what?"

*************

    My meal with Gelu was 6 days ago. After the food, she fiddled with my hair for what felt like hours, and actually squealed at the result. Staring back at me in the mirror had been a young man with brown eyes and long, wavy brown hair, cut delicately out of the eyes but allowed to cascade down beyond shoulder to mid-back. My cynets were covered in a custom printed carbon fiber mesh surrounded by silicone, which disguised them even in the physical world into flesh and blood limbs. They'd gone as far as to add scars, moles and a few radiation burns which my face almost certainly matched by now. Only the throa2 at my neck and slight glow of my brown IIs revealed I was a citizen of The Republic. Finally, I'd had to leave my legati jacket at the lab and changed into a simple dress shirt and slacks that were tattered and disheveled as though I'd barely escaped a disaster with my life.

    "Do you see what I did?" Gelu had asked proudly when I examined myself in the mirror.

    "Made me look like I've never won a fight in my life?" I asked, marveling at just how weak and defenseless I looked with all the exposed flesh and grabbable hair.

    "Mmmmn, actually, kind of." Gelu pulled at one of the locks of chestnut hair and pulled one side of the shirt out of the slacks before standing back and marveling at her creation. "This is you, Fuuchan. What I think you might have looked like if you had been born without your condition."

    The me that could have been narrowed his eyes, glaring back at himself. I knew that I'd recognized that shade of brown from somewhere. The shade of leaves, long fallen from a tree, already rotting into the earth. Natural decay that had almost died out after The Fall.

    At this point, all of my features had similarly wilted from exhaustion and sunburn. In the six days since I left Canis' laboratory, I hadn't had a single piece of food, and the only water I had to drink was a few mouthfuls that had been recycled from sweat, breath and the other excrement of the dozen-or-so passengers on an illegal transport vehicle. The Legion had discovered a network that smuggled Apologist sympathizers out of The Republic, and supposedly brought them to a hideout located just outside her walls. We'd driven for two days straight, and then the drivers had finally thrown open the doors, blinding us with the light of the setting sun. They'd said all we had to do was walk west and the Apologists would find us. As the sun began to set on the second day of our journey, the group started losing hope, believing they'd paid the smugglers for their own murders.

    "We need to start heading back!" A woman demanded. She was a wiry creature with short, dark, patchy hair, and pockmarks all over the small amounts of flesh visible beneath a legion uniform. "It's clear that those idiots have no affiliation with the Apologists. If we start heading back now and find shelter through the day, we just might be able to get back to The Republic alive." The woman's voice was light, but her tone was commanding. It was a voice that wasn't weighed down by respect or consideration of others. Must not have gotten far into conscription, I noted.

    Several in the group nodded along at her words, and made noises of approval, but others shook their heads, one spitting back, "I'd rather die than be forced to grow old in that shit hole! At least out here we get to die as humans. No one's going to take our corpses to process into protein blocks!" I barely suppress a laugh at that comment. It had been a rumor for as long as I'd lived, that The Republic recycled human remains into the cheap protein blocks that most citizens used as a primary food source. Of course it wasn't true. There were cases of criminals trying to make it a reality, but underground insect farms, far removed from the sun's corrupting rays were the true source of The Republic's nutrition. Human remains had far more lucrative uses than simply being consumed for energy.

    "You idiots can do what you want. I'm not dying out here with the doomers." The deserting legionnaire shoved the man who had argued with her and began walking away, back in the direction the transport vehicle had fled. Before she got far, the man charged after her and tried to grab the jug of water she carried in her hand. With practiced ease, the legionnaire turned and kneed the man in the stomach, stepping back as he collapsed to the ground. "I stole this from the transport. It's coming with me," she declared. "Any of you are welcome to share if you follow, but only if you can keep up." A few more of the group shuffled nervously as if they were going to challenge the legionnaire, but that changed quickly when 4 of the group instead lined up beside her. "Right, let's get going. We can move now until the next dawn, or we come across some shelter."

    Remaining members of the group looked at each other for assurance. Finding none, two more of the pack chased after the legionnaire, following her into the darkening twilight. With only 3 left at my side, I rubbed my dry tongue over the molar at the back of my mouth.

    I wasn't delirious yet, only a little light headed. Despite that, turning to face the sun made my resolve shake. It would soon be set completely and the night would make it easier to travel, but that did nothing to sate the thirst that threatened to drive me mad. One more day, I tell myself. You can survive one more day out here. All you need to do is rip the fake molar out of your jaw and auxilia members will find you within an hour. Come on. I began walking towards the setting sun, my shadow trailing behind as it got longer and fainter in the dark. My cynet limbs powered by their own energy source take the strides easily, but every muscle in my torso and my head especially are already shaking from the hours of sun exposure and dehydration. I was not built for this... Through the night, our group of 4 dwindled down to 3 as a middle-aged man collapsed in the baked dirt, face first. Another of the group had tried to help him up, but after an unsuccessful attempt, we continued with one less.

    Nights outside The Republic were surprisingly chilly. During the day it was hot, but the radiation was the bigger concern. In the night it almost hit freezing, and with nothing alive anymore, there were no sources of heat or even fuel to create a fire. As I walked in silence I couldn't help but notice the strands of brown hair shaking back and forth in front of my eyes. The colour resembled the haze of pollution that smothered the earth during the day. At night, that same pollution didn't look much different from a thick fog. Small clouds of vapor were barely visible with each exhalation of breath I released. Each one a visible reminder of the dehydration I was suffering.

    The brown strands of hair begin to shine, iridescent, like little rainbows as I walk on. Am I finally delirious, I wonder? I lick my lips which have begun to crack, but instead of comfort it feels like sandpaper scraping at my mouth. A hollow thud sounds out from somewhere behind me, likely another of the group collapsing, but this time me and the other set of footsteps don't even falter from our steady rhythm. Hope has already faded away, much like the clouds of breath that count down our remaining time. Me and the other know that we're likely marching to our deaths. As the darkness begins to give way to the burning fire just rising on our backs, I once more lick at the molar in my mouth.

    How long have I been walking out here? They told me I should be able to survive... how many days without dying? What if I am too late to rip out the molar and I die before the auxilia can reach me? After everything life has thrown at me, is this really how it ends? No epic final battle. No redeeming self-sacrifice. No reason for me to have even existed. 

    I'd rather die alone than call for help that might not even come. Canis is going to be pissed I let all his work become unrecoverable scrap. Gelu would cry if her hardware would actually allow it. Chroma might let out a sigh of disappointment at her secret weapon finally breaking down. No-one else would even remember Fulgur Ovid had existed, let alone wonder where he'd gone. My hand instinctively reaches down to my hip, seeking the netjack I always have pinned to my belt. It isn't there. Instead there is only a tear in the cheap slacks this human version of Fulgur Ovid apparently wears. My fingers poke the fake flesh at the bottom of the thigh. Between the fake flesh wrapped around my hands and that of the thigh, it felt like I am wearing thick layers of padded leather. Even looking and feeling like a real human to anyone else, I can't recreate the sensation of actually touching another person.

    Memories begin flashing through my mind of the times I actually had human hands. They are so distant that I can't remember what it felt like. Had it been as dull as this leathery feeling? As fuzzy as the memories? Another feeling flashes through my mind as I finally stumble and catch myself on hands and knees. The first time I'd walked after Canis replaced my legs with cynets. That had felt so wrong and imprecise at the time. The heel of my foot wasn't numb like I was used to. The arch didn't burn with each step. I remember feeling like I was going to slip because they felt so solid compared to the flesh that had once sunk into the ground. Another thought forces its way into the surface of my mind. Ovidia was going to be facing all those same experiences soon enough. If I was there I could let her know that it just becomes the new normal. It's terrifying at the time. Nothing feels right and you think that life isn't worth living anymore, but you adapt, and even forget what the flesh felt like.

    I let exhaustion bring me to the ground fully, turning my head to the side to watch the last minutes of twilight once more. I hadn't even noticed that the other person had fallen long ago, or that I'd been lost in my thoughts for a whole day. That one thought keeps running through my mind like an itch that can't be scratched. If I was there. Painfully, I stick a finger and thumb into my mouth, gripping the fake molar as I prepare to announce my first ever failed legatio.

    If you were there you'd let her down, just like everyone else in your life. I pause, fingers still gripping the molar. You think you would be any help to someone else? When has getting close to you ever led to anything good? If you had just died when you were supposed to, how many others would still be alive?

    A trembling in my mouth. The fingers are losing their grip.

    How many times are you going to spin the cylinder and pull the trigger? It never fires on you, always on those dumb enough to play along. If you let her rely on you, she'll just be another one of the corpses you've stepped over to keep living. You'll hurt her, but never push her far enough to actually leave. No. That would leave you alone, and how could a parasite like you survive alone?

    The hand retracts from my mouth and falls to the earth at my side. Turning my head, my whole world becomes strands of dark hair and pale earth. A few flashes of multicolour light burst in my vision. My own sweat, beading in the hair and reflecting the final light of the sun as my gasps raise and lower my whole body in tiny tremors. I wasn't delirious. Just the usual amount of crazy. Nothing survives this far from the megacities. No-one will find your remains. Your cynets won't fall into the wrong hands. The Professor's prized experiment won't be marked a failure. The I'mprint can learn to move on if she doesn't find you with a rope around your neck. The girl will just think you ditched her one final time: rightfully give up on you, and find a better guide to help her live again. A mission this sensitive, they won't announce you're MIA for more than a decade, if ever. This is what you've always wanted, isn't it? A chance to finally die without inconveniencing the few people left in your life.

    You're tired. Exhausted. You can just let go. I can finally rest.

    My eyelids drift down, quenching all the light of the world and I let the darkness take me. The soothing abyss I'm always snapped out of by nightmares. There are no lights this time. Endless darkness that I can finally let myself fade into. No red or grey, just me and infinite black.

    Footsteps. Flashes of light erupt at the bottom of my vision. All the colours I'd lost long ago exploding in a conclusive fireworks display. They mix and spread, outward, blending into a filthy landscape.

    The hallucinations must have finally set in. A face I don't recognize appears in the brown haze. Dark hair, dark eyes, crinkles around the eyes and mouth from laughing and smiling so much. His laugh had been so rich and genuine. How long has it been since I could recall the sound? At first it was a defense mechanism. That's what Gelu had told me. The pain would pass, and I'd stop drawing a blank on all of his features. That wasn't it. I knew if he were to ever look at me after the slaughter, it wouldn't be the him I remember. I never saw him look at anyone with disgust or horror. The only time I ever saw his features without a gentle smile was when I'd read the autopsy report. At least I'd never end up wherever he went. He'd never have to see what's become of me.

    A smile crosses my lips as the world goes dark.

    "About fucking time." My mind can't make sense of the words. Time is up. It doesn't matter how long it took to get to the destination. The uniform of the legion. That's all I'm sure of as the figure approaches me and lowers a bottle with a straw sticking out of it. Did I call the auxilia? Fucking parasite. "Drink slow. You'll hurt yourself if you gulp." I take a few sips, between short gasps of air I hadn't realized I was taking. It's hard to get it down as just swallowing hurts. My whole throat feels as cracked and dry as the ground I collapsed on. Looking up at my savior, recognition sets in.

    "Y- you?" The legionnaire who had left with half the deserters glares down at me, no concern on their face at all. "Under...cover?"

    "Smart and strong," she said, pulling back the water. "you might be useful to us if you survive." The legionnaire pushes me onto my back and grabs at both of my hands, pulling with all her strength. I'm surprised at how little effort I have to exert as she all but lifts me to my feet single-handedly. "Come on, recruit, the real world is calling." She half drags me several steps towards the transport vehicle she must have arrived in. Opening the back, I was accepted by the three other deserters who had begun the journey west when the legionnaire left with the rest. The deserters help me to a seat, and offer a bottle of water to keep, patting me on the back and laughing happily. I thought they'd died. Here they were in full spirits and looking healthier than they had before we left The Republic. Maybe I really am delirious.

    "You're crazy man. 4 days on the surface? Jessie told us the longest anyone had ever gone was 52 hours before." I gulp down some water, coughing and sputtering half of it out onto my chest.

    "What?" I ask, not understanding what was going on. I thought the legionnaire had been another undercover operative from The Republic, but none of the rest of this made sense. "We going home?"

    "We're all going home recruit." The legionnaire steps into the back of the transport, slamming the doors behind her shut. "Rest for now. Soon, the whole world will slumber."

    I cough in the middle of another drink of water. Only one thing makes sense as I begin to pass out. I wasn't going home to The Republic. My savior had just quoted one of the most famous lines of The Martyrist Manifesto. 

*************

    When next I open my eyes, I'm shocked to see two large green orbs, staring down at me. I throw myself to the side, falling out of a bed and pushing myself back against a wall. The eyes simply follow me, a hint of amusement causing them to narrow slightly. Quickly, my own IIs take in the room. The man with green eyes is standing on the other side of a hospital bed, bowed slightly forward with his hands behind his back. The walls are uneven raw rock, despite the floor and ceiling having been smoothed down and carved to resemble tiles. The bed is the only thing in the room, other than a table with a few medical supplies laying on it and a pitcher of water which my eyes linger on for a moment before returning to the man.

    Hair the colour of blood, long and straight, falls to the man's shoulders and slightly beyond. It's simply parted to the side and tucked behind his ears to keep it out of his face. That's about the only simple thing about him visually. Bright green robes, with a gold trim frame his lithe frame. The sleeves end just before his wrists, exposing golden cynets, which he now brings together in a simple prayer pose. Those bright green eyes contrast his flawless olive skin. Mouth curled into a smile, he tilts his head to the side, all the cunning of a fox already inside a hen house.

    "Fret not, friend, you're with allies now. The Apologists welcome all into their ranks with open arms." I look down at his joined palms for a second and he laughs in a playful way. "Figuratively, of course," he continues, "though I wouldn't be against giving you a hug if it would feel more welcoming?"

    His tone is cool and challenging despite the warmth of the words themselves. My mouth has already opened, ready to bark back a threat, but it catches in my throat as I remember what I'm doing here. Closing it and swallowing, I drag myself up to my feet and put on my best attempt at gratitude.

    "I-is this... am I outside The Republic?" I ask, stumbling forward and catching myself on the bed frame. That part hadn't been acting. Strong as my cynets are, they need a stable frame and mind to operate, and I was barely conscious.

    "Yes, yes," he responds, pouring out a glass of water. "You're in the lair of the Apologists. Far removed from The Republic's corruptive gaze. Here, drink this and sit back down. I'll have the nurses bring you some food."

    The man had already turned to leave, but I call after him, "wait, what about the people I was with? Did they make it?" A pretty good impression of concern if I say so myself. Sitting back in bed, I grab the glass and take a sip. The water is salty, with a hint of earthiness. Natural mineral water. It would cost a fortune back home, yet here they wasted it on a nobody.

    "They're all dead."

    I choked on the water, coughing some back into the cup. There was no reason I should be alive if they hadn't made it.

    "Just kidding, friend," he laughed at his attempt at a joke. "They'll be very excited to see you once you've recovered. I hear you left quite an impression on them, marching on for days like a zombie. We're going to be in need of that strength before long."

    As soon as the man leaves the room, I tongue at the molar, making sure it hadn't come loose at all while I was unconscious. Still there. All I have to do is rip the tooth out of my mouth and crush the lead casing to expose the transmitter, and alert The Republic to my location. Within hours the eagles would be at my location for evacuation before the missiles began raining. Before that, I have to regain my strength, and get as much intel as I can on this cell.

    One of the Apologists greatest strengths is just how many smaller groups make them up. At one point, they'd all been unaffiliated terrorists, but as The Republic spread fear of their dangerous beliefs, more of the small groups began to actually see each other as allies and band together for support. Every Apologist cell that they found had information about other cell's operations, but they were careful not to share locations or personal data with each other, leading to an unending game of whack-an-Apologist. It didn't help that the ones who actually knew anything always killed themselves before The Republic could bring them in for questioning.

    Sneaking up to the doorway, I peered out and to the left, seeing only a long hallway made of the same rough stone with perfectly carved rectangular holes that presumably led to more rooms. As I turned to the right, I once again found myself locking eyes with the fox-faced man, who stood silently with that unmoving smile. I pulled back so sharply that I saw long brown locks of hair bounce in front of me.

    "You don't have to sneak around. This isn't The Republic anymore. Though I would advise you to eat first." The man steps into the room, placing a bowl of soup on the table. "It's real soup, I assure you. This cave system used to be an underground farm for The Kingdom. Even though they abandoned it, the vegetation flourished. Yet more evidence that our cause is just."

    "Your cause..." I eye the soup for a moment, doing my best not to betray either the desperate hunger I feel, or the worries I have for my safety.

    "If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead." The man takes the bowl and drinks a loud deep gulp of the soup down before placing it back on the table. Even the people closest to me described me as being hard to read. A resting bitch face would be putting it lightly. Regardless, this man had read me like a book since I woke up. Unnerving, but there was little point in pretending to be innocent in that case.

    "You're a Martyrist?" I ask, stepping around him and taking the bowl in my hand. "You think all humans should just die off?" Emotion had left my voice, and I openly glared at him. Even among Apologists, Martyrists weren't well regarded. I didn't have to hide my distaste as I take a sip of the soup, but the taste that fills my mouth overwhelms my senses with a pleasant palate cleanser.

    "Are you telling me that you're not?" The man walked to the door, turning his back on me to show he didn't fear me at all. "Those with reservations try to turn back to The Republic and are killed. Those that walk for more than a day are true believers. A man who marches for half as long as you has something to live for. As long as you did, you have something to die for."

    I drink more of the soup, filling my mouth this time. It's full of flavor that I've only tasted a few times in my life. Life, that's what it is. Real ingredients, as the man said.

    "I don't have anything to live for. That doesn't mean I want to kill everyone else." The man spins around, leaning side to side with each step as he slowly advances on me.

    "You don't even realize it yourself yet, do you? I felt your murderous intent as soon as you woke up. If it was just aimed towards me, I'd assume you were a spy or an ex-soldier-" I drink more soup, unflinching as he nails me two for two. "-but it goes beyond that. You didn't want to kill me. You wanted to kill everything. You were so disgusted with the fact that you got back up when you thought you were finally dead. You hate life itself, my friend. Not for the same reason I do, perhaps. After all, I only want to end The Republic so that humanity will release its grip on this planet once and for all, but you... you want to end everything just because you're unable to end your own suffering."

    I scoff, finishing the last drops of soup and placing the bowl down on the table with a resolute thump. I overestimated this man. He wasn't able to read me at all. He was simply projecting his own psychosis onto me. Desperate for someone else to share his pathetic ideology. It must get lonely to be more insane than the loonie bin who already can't live among society. They'd have two more megacities to overthrow even if they ever did manage to deal with The Republic, so this was just another nobody desperate to avenge some perceived wrongdoing. 

    "Corvus Canis." I extend my hand to shake his, meeting his gaze with open hostility. It only brings more joy to his own as he meets me and enthusiastically shakes.

    "Of course you are! Vulpes. No last name. The Republic stole it from me before I could remember it."

    Vulpes leads me out of the room I revived in, and around the underground hovel that the Apologists call home. The hospital itself was only that in name, every room we walk past simply housed a bed with no equipment, and as far as I could see they were all empty but mine. The rest of the structure was a network of tunnels that had been excavated between the three megacities, and originally planned to link them with an underground network where they could all share resources and safely travel without the threat of radiation. My guide explains as much with an air of whimsy as we make our way through the labyrinth.

    "The plan was abandoned only shortly after The Fall, of course. Ideologies clashed, especially when The Kingdom began really mastering their treatment of Serfs." The word makes me shudder. I knew of the creatures that The Kingdom created out of what had once been men. "You've heard of them. Surprising. Most in The Republic just consider themselves the only society left in the world." He laughs even though there was no joke before pressing on. "This is where the Serfs were first molded and then bred for generations. The Kingdom kept it as a sort of experimental breeding ground, letting then multiply and farm by themselves and only reaping whatever they pleased whenever they felt like it." Vulpes was waiting for some sort of reaction from me, but I give him none. It wasn't that I'd missed the meaning, that they harvested Serfs as simply as the crops they grew, but rather the existence of Serfs at all was more horrific than the evils of man which I'd long since grown used to.

    "I take it the Martyrists moved right in and killed them all to set them free or something like that, and stole their farmland at the same time?" Another laugh from the fox's whole body.

    "Something like that. Again, you don't seem particularly bothered by murder."

    Serfs are as human as I'mprints. Ending them isn't murder. At best it is correcting a mistake that was made long ago. At worst, putting down an animal that had suffered for long enough. "Killing those things might as well be a mercy at this point," is all I say aloud, keeping the rest to myself.

    "Correcting the mistakes that we made in the past," Vulpes confirms, grinning mischievously. Once again, it wasn't that he was reading me, but rather likening my thoughts to Martyrists' beliefs about humanity. I sigh, looking away as we continue our tour.

    The underground tunnels were much like an ants colony. Everywhere they went, it was always long hallways with individual open rooms and offshoots that came to a dead end. It was clear that the Serfs had been left with the command to expand, without any specification, and so, had done just that. With no minds of their own, they'd created a bunker big enough to house an entire city. I let my hand slide across the wall, feeling the cold stone vaguely through my covered cynets. Just how many Serfs had been exterminated when the Apologists moved in.

    "Hundreds of thousands," Vulpes says, without context. I stare at him in disbelief for a moment.

    "Hundreds of thousands?"

    "These tunnels are big enough to sustain almost a million people without the need to go above ground." 

    He certainly has a way of almost guessing what I'm thinking...

    "Sustain is a strong word. You mean house," I correct him. A ghost town can only sustain ghosts. The living need more than just protection from the elements. Another of those annoying little laughs escapes him as we come to a dead end. I cross my arms, wondering why he lead us here and what the joke is.

    "No, my dear Corvus, this bunker could house millions. It already sustains more than 600,000." Vulpes reaches forward and touches a patch of smooth stone on the wall and instantly a chunk slides outward, opening up into an immense world of verdant light.

    The first sensation that hit me was the scent. The same smell I experience in brief every time I open my black house and get a whiff of the plants' unpolluted atmosphere. The second was the sound. At first it was a loud rumble, but as my ears adjust, it becomes a low hum of various sources of movement and sound resonating through the caves. I step out onto a ledge that's about 20 feet wide, and wraps around a ring of the cave, shielded by a chest-high block of raw stone. Beyond the wall is what catches my attention next. Massive open space, descending and ascending for far too many levels to count. A cylindrical shaft that could fit at least a dozen of the biggest skyscrapers in The Republic. Most surprising of all was what filled all the open space. Vertical hanging gardens. Floor upon floor of vegetation, some huge vines climbing and hanging out of boxes with supports, others growing out of the same soil supporting their own weight, and far more using hydroponics to grow directly out of water. The ledge I stood on was one of hundreds of floors that formed rings around the opening of the cave, and spotted at intervals on the stone walls, I watched an endless flow of people touching spots and opening more doors that led into long hallways like the one Vulpes had just guided me through. Keeping everything illuminated were lights on the sides of each of these rings that pointed directly into the vegetation, bathing the sandstone caves in ever shifting hues of green as the various leaves reflected and refracted the light. Automatically, I begin blinking my IIs, shifting through every filter I have to confirm none of it is a lie. The duoverse doesn't even exist out here, so all I get from that is flashes of different sensitivity to the light, heat and other radiation.

    "You're impressed?" Vulpes asks somewhere at my side. It brings me back to my senses enough to feel my hands trembling against the wall I lean against for support.

    "Impressed isn't the word I'd use. I don't... think there is a word. How is this possible?" Thoughts are popping into my head, one after another. The area is so big that I can't come close to accurately doing the math, but just looking at everything so far, it isn't a question of if a society could flourish here. There already is one. More than half a million if my guide is to be believed. The only question is how many it could support, and whether they could recreate the same idea more times over for all of humanity.

    "How much do you know of the Serfs, friend?" The fox-faced man inquires. His smile has gone from mischievous to outright maniacal, but there's no hint of change in his bright eyes.

    I swallow hard, forcing the excitement out of my throat and answer his question. "Just before The Fall, the think tank that would go on to become The Kingdom began working on human experimentation. Computer chips that could control the human mind and turn them into a mindless, serving class. From there it went off the deep end with The Republic's neural networks and mapping of the brain, and The Commune's gene editing technology. They created monsters that only obey human commands." Vulpes rolls his eyes at the final sentence before responding.

    "Not bad, Corvus. You know the basics, though you've drunk The Republic's cool-aid a little on other parts. They're not monsters, just a sub-species of humanity. Man-made accelerated evolution." His condescending tone killed any of the wonder I had been feeling towards the cave. If looks could kill, he would cease breathing. As it stands, I still have the option to throw him over the edge.

    "Scary, scary!" He laughs, not taking it seriously at all as he continues. "As you say, they're the result of horrific human experimentation from The Kingdom. The first generation were simply humans who would do anything to be let into a megacity when the atmosphere was stripped away. They took the most attractive and fit from the herd and placed chips in their heads which they used to control them, but that wasn't a perfect solution, and within a few years most of the first generation killed themselves to escape the nobles' cruelty." As he spoke, Vulpes made exaggerated hand movements including a neck slicing motion, never letting his smile falter. "Back then, the three megacities shared everything and thanks to that, they used the idea of neural networks, genome editing and I'mprints to create something brand new. The second generation of Serfs. Born from the edited embryos of the first generation's surviving stock, this new species was more pliable, had a variety of mutations to help them serve their masters, and most important of all they had compliance chips implanted into their skulls in utero. The first generation were essentially used as breeding stock for the 2nd when it became clear how well they worked out. From before they were born, their own thoughts were suppressed, and they were tricked to believe their masters' commands through the neural network were simply their own thoughts. They could even be led to throw themselves off cliffs, drown themselves, even mutilate themselves slowly without being able to resist the compulsion. The one problem The Kingdom had was that they were still too smart. Serfs that didn't have constant commands eventually became conscious, and while they couldn't resist commands, they'd eventually try to escape or end their own lives just like the first generation, so with the third generation they took it even further."

    "Hyper accelerated growth and development. The third generation was basically a failed experiment. They aged fast and became fully developed adults within only a year, but most of the generation also had terrible health problems and were more tumor than healthy flesh."

    "Ugh..."

    "Didn't peg you for the squeamish sort, Corvus. I'm sure you've seen some horrors of your own in The Republic." I look away, back to the cave wall we came though, as Vulpes continues. "The 4th generation was just about perfect for their needs. They reached maturity within 2 years, died within 15, and never lived long enough to question their own existence beyond the constant demands of their masters. From there on out, The Kingdom hardly manipulated their genes anymore, only breeding out the characteristics they no longer needed. It only took a century for the Serfs to barely look human, with thick calloused grey skin that could resist the radiation better, smaller heads and larger bodies without the need for much of the grey matter in their brains or tongues in their heads since they didn't communicate. The ones that exist now appear more closely related to cancerous frogs from the old world than men."

    Once again, a chill runs through my body. Professor Canis had shown me a video of Serfs when I was still a teenager. Even though I'd already survived conscription and the slaughter in the slums, it did it's job of reminding me that there are far worse things humanity was capable of outside The Republic.

    "Great history lesson. What is your point though? You expect me to believe barely conscious drones managed to build all of this?"

    "You don't believe it?" I find him far too close to me when I turn back to face him. He'd silently gotten within a foot of me as I had my head turned. Pushing him back, physically and rhetorically, I ask the obvious.

    "How would they know how to do all of this, which even humans couldn't achieve?"

    "Simple. The Kingdom made an error once again." Vulpes made a come hither motion with his hand, and began guiding me around the ring of rock. I couldn't help but notice this floor, those above it, and several below it seemed utterly abandoned aside from the two of us, while most others that were much lower were full of bustling crowds going about their business. I tap two fingers to the wall as we walk, but find with the layers of material over my cynets, I could barely see a few meters in any direction with vibrations. I was blind if this was some sort of ambush, but then as he had said, he could've killed me while I slept if that was the plan.

    "Humans and their arrogance, name a better combination. You see, Serfs were spawning new generations every 3-5 years and multiplying at an alarming rate. Disgusted by the creatures that The Kingdom created, The Republic and The Commune abandoned this site, leaving it to become their spawning ground. Even The Kingdom themselves didn't like living underground, preferring their ivory castles which sheltered the sun and filtered it through stained glass on their courts. They'd simply travel to and from here with convoys, collecting food and replacement Serfs without ever paying attention to what their creation had begun to create themselves: their very own civilization. The Serfs were constantly on the edge of overpopulation, breeding and multiplying, expanding the caves, creating methods to traverse the tunnels and safely funnel more water from aquifers to sustain them. At their peak, the Serfs outnumbered humans on this planet by a huge margin, and by that point they'd become conscious once more, evolving to the point that they could use the neural network to communicate telepathically. They even learned the horrors of their own creation by reading the minds of the men who came to collect their food and people every month. Now they weren't only conscious, they were united in their struggle to free themselves from their oppressive creators. They've since become infertile and dwindled down to a few thousand, but I think you'll find they're still fighting on."

    A squelching sound from above causes my whole body to tense. Instantly I was against the wall, fists up in defense. More thuds, followed by the same moist, sucking noise continue, as a green-grey blob appears from the ring above our own and drops down to the floor in front of us. The mass of flesh jiggled a little, then twisted, huge black saucers of eyes locking with my own. The head, if you could call it that was barely separated from it's body, the entire form simply looking like a lump of slimy rotten flesh.

    "A Serf!? ... I thought you killed them!?" Vulpes laughed maniacally, leaning back against the chest high wall with his hands to the side.

    "You assumed we did. I simply didn't correct you, Legatus."

    I yank the molar out of my jaw, attempting to crush the casing, but the huge creature catches my fist, it's slimy hand oozing between my fingers and forcing them open. The tooth falls useless to the ground as I swallow back blood and slam my knee into the Serf's body. The creature all but explodes, showering me with an acrid spray of purple fluid. I rip my arm out of its grip as it collapses backwards and find that Vulpes had already retrieved my tooth, and several other humans with guns had come out of other holes in the wall that had opened when the Serf attacked. I began punching the creature in earnest, purple gore spraying over the surroundings which Vulpes dodges away from lazily.

    "Legatus, please, calm down," a pleasant voice overpowers all other sound in my mind, as other Serfs begin descending from above. A few tended to their fallen kindred, while others line up alongside the men with guns. I fall back against the wall, eyes darting from man to man, and over the inhuman abominations. I raise my hands in surrender. There was no winning such a fight. Each Serf was the size of 5 of the humans in width, though only around 4 feet tall. Their bodies were slug-like, gelatinous rather than the rough calloused look I'd seen on video, and while they had legs sticking out of the front of their rotund forms, they seemed to slither and drag themselves forward with their arms more than walk.

    "We know who you are, Fulgur Ovid, legatus of division 505, and we mean you no harm."

    "Here, a gesture of good faith," Vulpes said, tossing the tooth my way.

    "We only ask that you hear us out before you leave." A small Serf raises it's hand and slides slightly further forward than the rest, showing it to be the one that spoke to me. "Please, we need you to take a message back to The Republic."

    I look around at the small crowd, surrounding me. 19 humans with guns, and half a dozen Serfs that could have any number of untold tricks. They knew who I was and why I'd shown up. The Serfs had likely read my mind through the neural network as they brought me in. Why then had they even let me keep the tooth, or allowed me to walk around freely? I move the tooth into the palm of my hand, showing them as I closed my fingers over it gently.

    "What the fuck do you want? What message do you think is going to stop The Republic from slaughtering you all and taking this place for themselves?"

    "We'll keep this brief, since time is of the essence." The voice coming from the Serf was pleasant and rich. Despite being noticeably smaller than the others, the creatures voice carried with it the confidence of age. "I am the Serf they call Rutabaga." I couldn't conceal my surprise at such a ridiculous name, bringing another short chuckle out of Vulpes and a few more of the humans. Waiting until the laughter died down, Rutabaga continued. "Everything that our leader, Vulpes told you is true."

    "-Your leader? There are Serf Martyrists now?" More laughter. Even Rutabaga themselves, let out a gentle giggle.

    "Vulpes is the leader of all the Apologists, Legatus, and yes, he, I, and everyone on this level are Martyrists."

    "Then there's even less point of you talking to me," I snap back. "The Republic won't negotiate with psychopaths who just want everyone dead."

    "Who said we're negotiating?" Another of the men stepped forward. He had long black hair with golden streaks. Instead of a gun, he carried a katana as long as he was tall. A skin-tight black bodysuit that left very little to the imagination was all that he wore. He lifted the katana up to rest on his shoulder, trying to look intimidating, but one of my arms was more than capable of overpowering a simple weapon like that.

    "If you're not negotiating, then what exactly is this?" I ask, spitting a mouthful of blood at the feet of the man. He took a step forward, but was held back by the small Serf. When he backs away, I grin, noticing him uncomfortably trying to wipe away a trail of slime that still connected him to the Serf's hand.

    "Simply a message, Legatus. Please, turn on your IIs so that we can use the duoverse to show you what you need to see." I blink twice, allowing the duoverse back into my vision, and see nothing different. Not even the pulse and shimmer that would suggest the duoverse was present. Then the Serf raises its hand as if holding out an objects and an AR screen appears with a view of a burning city. None of it looked familiar, though the style felt familiar to home.

    "Is this a threat?"

    "It's a livestream you dense-"

    "Tonitrus, please!" The Serf's voice blocked out whatever playful word was coming next from the aggressive man. "Just tell him about The Commune."

    The man growled under his breath, but did as he was asked.

    "The Commune is gone, Legatus." The man known as Tonitrus pronounced my title as though it was a slur. "I saw to that myself. It took years of struggle against the the council, but with the help of The Serfs and Apologists, we blew them all to hell." My IIs narrow and I look closer at the image that the Serf displayed for me. Several more viewpoints and angles appear in a row, showing dead bodies hung from buildings and mutilated victims. None of it means anything to me beyond the graphic violence.

    "You don't have to understand it, Legatus," the voice in my head announces. "You'll be able to share this with the arbiters and they can confirm it."

    "You're just the messenger, shit stain. Nothing else." I ignore the last samurai and look instead at the Serf.

    "So that's it? A warning that you've already taken down The Commune? Even if it's true, The Republic alone could level this place."

    "We're counting on that," Vulpes responds, rocking backwards and forwards on the edge of the ring of rock. "Show him The Kingdom."

    Another video appears, this one an aerial view of The Kingdom's castles. Unlike the last view, this time the buildings were mostly intact, but there was an entire army swarming the streets. The contrasting medieval architecture, and modern firearms and explosives made for a shocking sight, but above that was the shear numbers at play.

    "We recruited tens of thousands after the fall of The Commune, Legatus. The 648,000 housed here are just the non-combatants. The young, old, gentle of nature and soft of spirit."

    "Seems like you have a lot more of those than actual fighters," I spit back. "Awful lot of potential hostages you just brought The Republic's attention to." I smirk at Vulpes who simply smiles back, without worry. Other members of the crowd laugh, while Tonitrus even calls me something I assume is a slur from The Commune. Vulpes leaps forward, pushing himself off the wall and saunters up to the point where I could smell a woody scent wafting off of him. I hold up the tooth in my hand, threatening to break it which elicits even more cackling laughter.

    "I told you, Legatus, we're counting on The Republic getting rid of our little pacifist problem. Too many Apologists, not enough Martyrists. That is, until you found your way here where we keep all the sick, and wounded, and weak, and pathetic. All the loved ones of those fighting to liberate The Kingdom from their tyrannical rule. Once they've finished saving another megacity, they'll march home, along with us of course, since we'll be joining them shortly to finish the final push, and discover humanity's last best chance at survival annihilated by The Republic's missiles."

    Some of the men cheer victoriously, while others somberly nod their acknowledgement. One even made a religious prayer from a language I don't recognize.

    "You're fucking insane... you want me to bring The Republic here?" I lower my hand, sliding the tooth safely into my jacket pocket and bringing up a closed fist instead.

    "No, Legatus, I already called The Republic here myself." Vulpes mimes looking at a watch on his wrist that didn't exist for dramatic effect. "About... ohhhh, 7 hours ago? That tooth you ripped out of your mouth was just a replacement we slipped in for you. You really didn't have to remove it again. The Auxillia we called in are still sweeping the surface above, trying to find you. If you take that elevator," he gestured dramatically to a hole in the wall one of the men was keeping open about a quarter of the ring away from me, "you might just be able to catch them before they leave. Here, I'll even make it easier for them to find you." Vulpes grabs my wrist, dragging it down to flat level and placing the transmitter and what was left of my fake tooth's casing into the palm of my hand. All the while, I simply stare at it in disbelief. "Oh, don't worry, we have our own ride, Legatus. If you'd rather stay and join the casualties, that's up to you."

    I meet the man's green eyes, true fear that I hadn't felt in my adult life finally setting in. Behind him, I see the seeds of a new civilization, lit up like a green light. The bustling crowds of innocents below are going about their day without any awareness of what was coming. When I finally look back into Vulpes' eyes, I see myself. Brown eyes, long wavy brown hair, a human version of myself, face twisting as shock gives way to terror.

    "Why? Why even tell me this? You had what you needed. You could have sent the message any other way!" I hear my voice shaking, even as I begin to dissociate and feel like I'm a passenger in this whole event. I watch myself tremble as Vulpes grabs a handful of my hair, stares at it for a moment and then let's go, walking away to join the rest of the Martyrists.

    "I'm returning the favour, Legatus. You won't remember any of this when we next meet I'm sure, but I'll at least give you one more chance of joining the winning team and killing the entire world as I know you too desire. After all, you saved my life when I was but a boy. You weren't much older than I, but you taught me that violence can be the answer sometimes. Do you remember, the bunker, where my whole family was slaughtered, where you fought off multiple men, many times your size to defend a tiny broken child? I never forgot that day, Legatus. Never forgot the lessons it taught me. When my adoptive father laid hands on me, when grown men tried to kill me for sport on the street, when other Apologists tried to hold me back from doing what needed to be done, I remembered what you taught me. Violence is the only thing that can curb human nature, because human nature is violence."

Art by The Drawn Legend: https://x.com/drawn_legend/status/1865885816095903770

    Vulpes turns gracefully on his heels and begins walking off in the opposite direction of the elevator he had pointed me to. "Do join us if you'd like to watch the world burn before you end it all, Legatus." The rest of the Martyrists follow after him, Tonitrus spitting at my feet as he goes. In silence, I stand there for only an instant before I begin sprinting for the elevator. Slamming into the back of it, I press the top floor button as many times as I can, heart pounding louder than the jeers of the Martyrists. When the door finally closes, I collapse at the back of the tiny metal tube, shaking violently.

    I need to get to the Auxilia. Need to warn them. Need to stop the barrage. Need to live. Need to keep going.

    Built for this. The elevator dinged, and as it opens, sand begins flooding in to the tube. I was literally built for this!

    I claw my way through the dead dirt, fighting harder than I ever have to survive. As soon as I've clawed my way to the surface, I'm dashing at full speed and screaming at the top of my lungs. "Auxilia! Come in! Do you read me!?" I don't see anybody, but I know they must be nearby. Vulpes hadn't lied about anything else so far, why would he now? A voice rings through my mind, muddled and augmented to hide the identity of the man speaking.

    "Legatus, division 505, is that you?"

    I come to a stop, realizing we're close enough to connect remotely.

    "Put me through to the Praetor Chroma! Now, it's urgent!" My lungs burn and struggle to make out the words, but I know they're clear enough in the mind of whoever I'm talking to. A few seconds of silence follow as I begin to hear the buzz of helicopter propellers heading my way. "Did you hear me!? I need Chroma, NOW!"

    "Apologies, Legatus. We read you. We tried to hail the praetor, but something is blocking our connection. Must be some new Apologist technology."

    I howl in frustration, falling to the ground and punching at the dead earth until the fake skin has torn away from my metal fist. Red metal continues to pound further into the earth as the flesh rips and shreds over the earth. The Serfs, I confirm, they must be able to interfere with the neural network at a distance. The knowledge doesn't do me any good now, but it's another thing that the Arbiters need to know.

    Brown hair begins whipping all around my vision as the Auxilia get closer. Suddenly the sound of air itself being broken overpowers even the rotor blades of the auxilia's hovercraft. A jet explodes out of the earth nearby, shooting into the sky at high speed.

    "The jet!" I scream. "Ignore me and shoot down that jet!" The Auxilia vehicle turns for a moment, stops to hover, and then continues it's descent towards me. "You need to get the jet!"

    "It's a supersonic vehicle, Legatus. This craft wouldn't be able to target it, let alone chase it down. We need to get you out of here now. As it is, we're cutting it close to the PNR."

    "PNR?" I don't even say the words, only think them through the network. "They already launched?"

    "We have 10 minutes to clear or we'll be caught in the fallout."

    It's over... I failed.

    I don't even feel it as the auxilia drag me into the back of the vehicle and begin transporting me home. I only watch in dead silence out the window as men try to get me to debrief, or explain the situation. For a moment the night becomes day as the surface of the Earth is hit by a hydrogen bomb. Again and again the flashes go on as they must have during The Fall. Then once more the sky turns black as all light is smothered by the smog that covers all.

    "Sir, we've reestablished connection with The Republic," I hear a voice announce.

    The man beside me asks, "would you like to call praetor Chroma now, Legatus?"

    "No. ...Just tell her I need to see her immediately when I return. I received Intel that the arbiters themselves need to know. Highest priority."

    There are more questions and attempts at conversation, but the whole way home I can only think about what was just lost. The faces of the men who laughed and jeered as they consigned humanity to its demise. Men who had lived alongside the hundreds of thousands that they let be buried alive. Those green eyes, so full of life, which desired nothing more than to snuff it out once and for all. I did remember him as a boy. My first mission outside of The Republic. He'd barely been a footnote in the story, now he intended to be the author of its closing chapter.

*************

    The Auxilia drop me off at the top of a building I've never been to. Waiting for me are Praetor Chroma and two men standing on either side of her. She salutes me, one hand raised in front of her face with a proud smile. Our relationship has never been friendly, but it had lasted as long as I'd been Fulgur Ovid. Anything I did for The Republic, Chroma made sure that it was her that had negotiated with Canis to become her personal pet project. My successes were hers, and as far as she knew, she'd just wiped out yet another Apologist threat with the press of a button.

    "Praetor, I-"

    "Hold, Ovid." Praetor Chroma salutes the other auxilia members and dismisses them with a silent command. Instantly the hovercraft lifts and descends over the side of the building to rush on to the next mission. Chroma holds out an open palm to the man on one side of her, then the other as she introduces the men that flank her.

    "This is arbiter Samuel, and arbiter Rashid. They don't go out in public for just anybody, Ovid, so treat them with the respect they're due."

    I salute each of the men in turn, neither one acknowledging me beyond staring my way with emotionless gazes.

    "Of course, Praetor. My apologies for demanding your attention, arbiters."

    "It's not the first time," arbiter Samuel states, standing perfectly still. My brow furrows slightly as I try to recall ever speaking to an arbiter before. "On with it, wolf."

    Turning back to Chroma, I explain everything that I'd experienced since I woke up in the Apologists' hideout, using the duoverse to show all 3 officials images captured by my IIs, including the fallen Commune and under attack Kingdom. While Chroma beams with shock and crosses her arms in frustration at the revelation of Vulpes using us for the Martyrists' devices, nothing else seemed to alarm her and the two arbiters never react in the slightest. As the story comes to an end, Chroma nods in my direction solemnly. Finally, she asks, "is that all for the debrief, Ovid?"

    "Yes, ma'am! If you're sending anyone to excavate the hideout, I'd be happy to volunteer once I've recovered." I salute once more, holding the pose until Chroma releases me with an at ease command. With some luck there would be pockets of the hideout that managed to hold firm, ensuring the safety of some survivors, humans, or even plant life that could be recovered.

    Chroma turns to face the arbiters, the trio having an intense discussion through the neural network as I cross my arms and wait for my next command or dismissal. Taking in the buildings around me, I notice that we were on top of the arbitration quarters. It was one of the smaller buildings in The Republic that only allowed access to those with security clearance much higher than my own. I vaguely remembered escorting praetors to or from the building during my time in the auxilia, but had never been allowed access from the ground or roof before.

    Finally Chroma turns to me, her usually intense gaze looking just a little downcast for once. I was used, so she'd been used. Regardless of who the blame rested on, the death count was substantial and even more alarming considering the Martyrists' plan to use the attack to radicalize even more Apologists. I finally begin to return to myself, shaking at the weight of everything that had just been lost through the night.

    "I'm sorry Ovid."

    "I'm the one who should-" a burning sensation spread through my neck and my hand raises, pulling a dart from my exposed flesh. Looking at Chroma, I watch her lower a gun and holster it under her jacket.

    "It's only a few days. You'll be on your feet in no time." The world goes blurry as the ground rushes up to catch me. I watch the feet of Chroma and the arbiters shuffle a bit as they conversed about something. It all just sounded like white noise which then faded to silence as my mind went quiet.

*************

    The life of a legatus is one fraught with danger and frustration. Whether you want to do something or not is never a question. Legatio are designated by Praetor Chroma as needed, and whenever one hasn't been provided for more than a day, a legatus is expected to seek out their own lower priority case to pass the time. There's a reason that legati are often called 'wolves' in a derogatory way. The Republic calls and we heel, regardless of what else we'd rather be doing. On a normal day, I'd be thrilled to be given a tough mission. Where other members of division 505 sought out the simple cases that could be dealt with from a desk, I always aim for the more dangerous and difficult, which take me off the beaten path. No, dear listener, I'm not trying to persuade you that I'm some sort of badass who doesn't afraid of anything. The honest truth is I simply like things straightforward. Point me in the direction of a target, let me investigate, interrogate and adjudicate and then I can sleep easy for a night knowing my work is done for another day. The more dangerous and difficult cases in division 505 were always straightforward like this. Deal with the dangerous parts yourself and then report the findings to Mirari or Eidolon to handle the abuse and errors in their systems. It was simple and I was good at it. That is on a normal day however.

    I let out a deep sigh, and think about the time, a clear digital readout appearing in my vision and assuring me that I still can't leave. 10:45 and the target arrives at 11:00. It's already been 20 minutes of blending in to the environment while my IIs examine every customer coming in and out of the coffee shop. The dark roast in front of me has gone cold and I'm sure there are more than a few patrons wondering why I haven't taken a single sip since I arrived. I didn't choose this mission and it wasn't one that I was at all comfortable with. If it were up to me, I'd be chasing down a target or interrogating one, not wasting my time, waiting for them to grace me with their appearance. The target wouldn't want to see me. As soon as they arrived a game of cat and mouse would begin, or perhaps wolf and lamb in this case. They wanted something. It was the only reason they'd bring me here. I had to find out what it was and deal with it swiftly so that I could get back to more normal missions.

    The door to the coffee shop swings open and my hand fumbles quickly to wrap around my cup and look casual. Silently, I let my IIs move to the door, foot tapping out a beat on the floor below. It isn't the target. Another sigh escapes my lips as I think about the time again. 10:47. Why the fuck did I think it was a good idea to show up early? Chances are, the target wouldn't even make it. It was more likely they'd chicken out and never even leave the house, or if they did, panic would set in when they saw me sitting here. I blow some hair out of my face and wipe the beads of sweat that had formed at my brow. No-one would see it thanks to the beauty of the duoverse, but it wasn't the most comfortable feeling to be marinating in my own frustration.

    I look around the room, desperate for something to distract my mind, and find a small girl staring at me. The child is tiny, still being cradled over her mothers' shoulder as she beams at me with wide eyes. The family must be into fantasy, as mother and child both have elf ears and dresses that would suit a magical forest more than the overpriced high-rise coffee shop. The child mouths something at me, which I cock my head to. She repeats the mouthing, and this time I read the movement to see she's saying "big bad wolf." A genuine chuckle comes from me, then I flash my fangs at the girl. The only time I'm not wearing my legati jacket is when I sleep nowadays. It might be the child's first run in with a legatus.

    Unafraid, she mouths, "oh, what big teeth you have."

    "All the better to eat you up," I respond, mouthing the words in silence with a toothy grin to finish. The girl bursts into a giggling fit, causing her mother to readjust and cradle her more closely, out of my view. When I look back around, my target is watching me from the entrance of the coffee shop, smiling with the same look of pure joy the child had.

    My face shoots down to stare at the reflection in my coffee. I forgot how young they'd made me look with the new skin grafts. The discomfort is clear as day on my face despite the lack of any blush in the duoverse. The target makes her way over, likely loving the upper hand they now have, and takes the seat opposite me, a pleasant smell arriving with her. Lavender and juniper berry. She really has done her research. It's bad enough that the target looks so much like me now that I've lost my wrinkles and scars, but someone had even let her in on two of my favourite scents. She had met Gelu before me. Where my biological mother might not know any weaknesses of my current form, the surrogate knows my workings even better than I do.

    "Ovidia," I say, almost as a question, then add, " I didn't expect to get a message from you after I'd already sent a glowing letter of recommendation." Ovidia giggles, tucking some of her hair behind one ear as she leans forward.

    "Caught you," she whispers, tapping my metal hand with her soft one. "Big bad Legatus has a soft spot for kids." I pull my hand back away from the touch, bringing the coffee with it, as close to myself as I can. It rests at the edge of the table, threatening to fall if moved any further. I'm still thinking of a witty response when Ovidia continues, "good with kids, that's one of the first things I actually know about my brother. Not a bad start."

    "Not your brother," I say simply. "Your mother signed the form to-"

    "-yeah, yeah, blood is blood," she replies, beaming at me with pride. "I was always told I was named after the strongest man mother ever met. She told me about you joining the Auxilia younger than anyone ever had, and that you never cried as a child. I saw all of that when Gelu introduced us, but the second impression is much better."

    My grip tightens on the coffee cup as I stare down at my reflection once more. The awkwardness has disappeared, replaced with my usual mask of cold indifference as I raise my head to look back at Ovidia. "You weren't named after me," I state. "Fulgur was the name given to me, but Ovid is the name I chose when I became a citizen. By that point you were long born and I thought my mother had forgotten about us."

    Ovidia's eyes dart off to the side and her smile falters slightly. She opens her mouth to say something but ends up silent, likely unsure of how to respond. I'm not good at these kinds of missions. If she'd just be honest and tell me what she wants, we could end this long-lost-family farce.

    "I'm sorry, Fulgur," Ovidia says quietly. "Could you tell me about who I am named after? Mother talks about you sometimes, but she never really speaks about the rest of our family. Was it our grandfather? Or maybe-"

    "My father. He wasn't particularly strong and you won't find a single piece of evidence he existed other than my birth record. He was born in the slums and died there before I finished conscription. Never even managed to earn enough credits to get his own duotar."

    The silence became deafening as I consider just leaving then and there. That wouldn't do though. She clearly needed something, and bailing early was just going to lead to another awkward message or even worse, meeting like this. Better to just cut to the chase for both our sakes. "Look, why don't-"

    "Banana cream pie and home style apple, Legatus?" A waitress dressed like a Victorian maid places two slices of pie down on the table, looking between us to confirm who wanted each. Ovidia looked confused, but I simply thank the waitress before she turns to continue her shift.

    "You ordered for me?" Ovidia asks, looking between the two pie slices. I bring the cold coffee to my lips and take a sip, leaving the cup in front of my face as I reply.

    "When you invited me for coffee, I did a quick search and found out this place is popular for pies that almost taste as good as the real deal. I didn't know what you'd want to drink, but I figured you'd like at least one of these." I take another sip of the coffee, the cold and bitter almost making me shudder as I lower it to the table. Once again Ovidia is beaming at me, her pink eyes wide with joy as she slides one of the spoons over my way.

    "Let's try them both and see which we like?" Wasting no time, she plunges her own spoon into the apple pie and takes a small bite, audibly gasping at the taste. "There is no way this is what apple actually tastes like," she exclaims. "It's so good! You have to try!"

    Slowly I acquiesce, taking a bite for myself in silence. letting the flavors blend in my mouth, I slowly savour them before swallowing. A full day's wages for the two slices, but it already seemed worth it. "It's actually very close. Much sweeter, but that might be the sugar or the crust."

    "You've had real apples!?" Ovidia asks, digging her spoon into the banana pie next.

    "Once. I'm pretty sure it was real and organic, though that whole day is a bit vague now."

    "I bet! I can't believe my brother is this refined!"

    I'm about to argue against the term brother, but Ovidia is already gasping at the next pie and insisting I try it too, with food spilling out of her mouth. In spite of myself, I smile for a second, but hide it with the next bite, silently appreciating the flavors that I've never experienced before.

    "It's like that medicine they give you for fevers when you're a kid."

    "Speak for yourself, I still take that whenever I feel sick! Pills always make me gag!" Another chuckle escapes me, and I find myself staring into Ovidia's soft pink eyes. Looking back at me is my own reflection, wearing the same gentle smile as hers. We could almost be twins in the duoverse.

Art By The Drawn Legend: https://x.com/drawn_legend/status/1868053803431497795

    My smile fades as fast as it came, and when I speak up, all warmth has left my voice. "So, what is it that you want?" I ask, finally cutting to the chase. Ovidia considers this for a second, bringing her spoon to her lips as she slowly chews and swallow another bite of the apple pie.

    "Like I said," she swallows in the middle of her sentence, "I just want to get to know you. Legally or not, you're my half brother and neither of us have any other siblings. Not only that, but you have the same condition as me, but way worse - and you managed to become a legatus. That's incredible! There are some days I wake up in so much pain I can't even get to class, let alone the crazy stuff you do!" Ovidia wolfs down another bite of pie as I stare at her silently. 

So she wants to know just how bad it's going to get?

    "It's going to get worse," I warn. "I saw the list of medication they've put you on. That'll slow down the degradation of your nerves, but nothing is ever going to make it feel better than it is now. Even if you replace every part of your body you can with metal, your nervous system won't ever get better. They can give you a pacemaker to keep your heartrate in check, a sensor to flush your lungs when they fill with fluid, even help when you start to lose control of your bowels, but as long as you live it's always going to be painful. Even I'mprints with conditions like ours feel the pain because it becomes part of our brain chemistry."

    Ovidia's eyes are barely visible when I finally look up at her. She's staring down at her hand which has begun to tremble. I'm not sure whether that's the condition or fear. A psychiatrist would be better suited for this... hell, a clown would probably be more comforting and sympathetic than me. 

    "You're going to be fine. You just have to accept that it's a part of your life now. It seems scary, but you can get through this." A different voice echoes in my mind. One that had more warmth and richness. He has always managed to soothe my worries when it started.

    Both of Ovidia's hands embrace one of my own and pull it to the middle of the table. "I'm so sorry, Fulgur. Again -crap, that's the second time I'm saying it today. I'm so sorry that you've had to go through this all alone." I pull my hand back and hear Ovidia make a little yelp. The edge of the metal on my cynets nicked her palm, causing a small trickle of blood to flow down her hand.

    "Fuck, my bad." I grab a napkin at the side of the table and Ovidia's wrist, gently dabbing at the cut until the bleeding stops. Then I tie it around her hand, letting the napkin apply pressure itself. "Are you okay?" For the first time since she arrived, she's speechless as she looks down at the makeshift bandage. She reaches out with her other hand, stroking the cloth before meeting my gaze.

    "See, you're already a good brother. I'm sorry I didn't ask about touching you first." Once again I look away, embarassed to stare into her eyes for too long. Afraid of what I might catch looking back at me.

    "It's fine." I take another sip of the coffee and signal in the direction of the pie which Ovidia immediately returns her spoon to.

    "Oh, how was the mission last time!?" She asks, food spilling out of her mouth before she swallows the bite. "I wasn't even able to leave you messages for over a week!"

    "Same as always," I respond. "The Republic calls, and the wolves heel." I take a bite of banana cream pie, followed by a sip of coffee to counter the sweetness. In all honesty I can't recall much about my last mission. Tortured by Gelu, sent out into the desert, then back at The Republic but told I completed the mission. Often I lost time on higher priority legati. I'd had more concussions than any other breacher in the auxilia, but Ovidia didn't need to know any of that.

    Another silent moment passes as I let the cup hover in front of my face before lowering it with a practiced smile. "If you need any more information, I can just send you some exercises and other services that have helped me in the past. That way you don't have to drag yourself out to see me every time you have a question."

    "Don't do that," Ovidia responds, tone matching my cold one from earlier. "Mother always does that when she gets uncomfortable or afraid too. That fake smile and the words you don't mean." My smile fades, but Ovidia doesn't let it end there. "I really just want to get to know you, Fulgur. I can stop joking about you being my brother if you want, but don't act like I'm the one hiding my true feelings. I just want to get to know the only family I have in the world aside from mother."

    My hand lowers from the table and grips my trousers tight. "Your father..."

    "More than a decade ago. I took his first name as my surname too." Another chuckle rises to my throat, this one self-deprecating at my own foolishness. I just assumed they were still a perfectly happy family. Never even bothered to search the new husband up. "Exactly, it's more than just our names that are alike, brother." She put emphasis on the final word, playfulness all over her face when I finally had the courage to see it.

    "Sor-" an alarm tone blared in my mind as a notification takes over most of Ovidia's face.

New Legatio Received. Highest priority.

    "Sorry, Ovidia, I have to go. Work." Tapping two fingers to my temple twice, I accept the legatio and pay the bill for the meal in one go. "You can get a drink if you want, or just take the pies home. They're on me."

    Ovidia hadn't said another word as I stormed out of the coffee shop and turned towards the elevator. I freeze, noticing the girl's form as I almost went straight past the windows. She was hunched forward, hands gripping the hem of her pale dress at her thighs. Although I couldn't see her face from behind, she had shrunk down into herself, looking all the more like the child I had never watched grow up.

    The alarm rings out again, system noticing that I'd not fully read the instructions or begun making my way to the destination. The Republic calls and we heel. I take two more steps, but then stop dead in my tracks once more. Growling in frustration, I close the notification for a second time and march back in to Ovidia's side. She jumps slightly, playing off the scare and whatever came before as though she was just stretching.

    "I really have to go," I say, placing a metal hand on her shoulder. Stupid. There's no comfort to come from the metal that just cut her. "I'd like to meet you again... if you'd want to talk more. I'd like to hear about your dad, and... stuff." Another alarm plays in my mind and I see a message from Chroma asking if I'm still drunk at this hour. I ignore it for a moment, while Ovidia simply stares at me in dumbfounded silence. I turn to walk away, but Ovidia has catches my hand as I start to go.

    "Thank you, Fulgur. I'd like that. Somewhere cheaper next time, so I can pay?" She lets go of my hand and I pause, hand still on her shoulder.

    "I'll let you know when I'm free." I give her shoulder a gentle squeeze, matching the smile she's showing me, before I leave once more. Exiting the coffee shop, I bring up the legatio, running through it as I make my way to my car.

    Operation Starfall? Now this is my type of mission.

    The life of a legatus is one fraught with danger and frustration. That may be, but I can honestly say there's nothing that The Republic can make me do that would be worse than what I just went through.

Art by Rayray(Birb): https://x.com/karminrod_rays/status/1866497190098575552

Art by Natzumeko: https://x.com/natzumeko/status/1868678006543384925