෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴

“They say there is an endless universe of possibilities before us all. An infinite waveform of potential outcomes. But in the moment, when that waveform collapses from possibility, to probability, to actuality, there can be only one reality. In that moment, the waveform collapses, and what is left is that which is.” —Raz Owens

෴11 hours, 35 minutes before Nemesis.෴

Two men sat atop the hastily erected wooden platform overlooking the large repurposed training room. The large ferrocrete walled room bore the scars of training. The biggest room in the underground facility was filled beyond capacity, every chair in use, with more soldiers leaning casually against the walls. The wrinkled and slightly stooped man in his iconic glossy black armor stood at the podium, idly scratching at the edge of his metal eyepatch, where metal melded into flesh, while the packed room of soldiers gradually calmed down. He knew as well as anyone what it felt like to come down off a big, high-intensity experiential datastream. Once the chatter and energy in the room had subsided to a low roar, he rapped on the podium with slightly enlarged knuckles and raised his slightly quivering voice again.

“I know you’re eager for the fight. I can feel it coming off you in waves. That energy is good, but remember your training. Keep it under control, and focus on what’s important right now.” Elsewhen, the black-clad young man with an intense gaze looked past the podium into the room, his raised fist clenched. He met the massed warrior’s energy with his own, a vortex of potential power made manifest in the room that everyone could feel.

The noise in the room dropped off into a silence underscored by a growing palpable undercurrent of energy not unlike standing too close to a high voltage line. He nodded his approval and smiled through gritted teeth.

The soldiers let out a single rallying cry of affirmation and fell silent in anticipation of what their leader and, to many of them, father figure would say next.

Elsewhen, he coughed softly and drew his wrinkled hand over the white and grey stubble he’d forgotten to shave that morning. “There isn’t much more for me to say at this point. Get ready for another experiential datastream. I’d like to think this one is a little more cleaned up than the last one, but I’ll let you be the judge of that. You should gain just as much capacity from this one as the last one, so enjoy that.”

He stood up straight, with his shoulders back, drawing his shirt tight across his chest as he watched the green dots appear on his HUD even faster this time. When they all showed ready, the intense young man paused there for an instant, lost to his own thoughts, before shaking his head and sending the datastream.

In another time, once the data was transmitting, the old man limped back to his chair next to the General. His steps were slow and halting, looking more like his familiar armor was supporting him, instead of him carrying it. He sagged into the chair and rested his head in his hands.

The General looked to him with concern. “Are you all right, sir?”

The black-clad young man nodded. “I’m as all right as I can be. I could use a good night’s sleep, and a little more certainty about tomorrow. Both are in short supply at this point.”

The General nodded, sympathy writ large on his face. “You’ve done more than anyone. Win or lose, we all—”

The General’s words trailed off when the old man beside him narrowed his gaze and shook his head nearly imperceptibly. The menace imbued into that tiny movement reminded both Generals, in both collapsing probabilities, that the intense young man, and the old man in black metal armor were both far more than they sometimes chose to present themselves as.

The General choked on his words when the younger man’s gaze snapped to face him with eyes glowing with a barely contained swirling violet plasma. The flaming gaze and expression of barely controlled fury stopped the General’s platitude cold.

“No!” Neither young nor old man shouted or even made another movement, but in both whens the General flinched at the feel of the sudden waves of power radiating off the other man.

The old armored man frowned and raised one gnarled finger to point first toward the General, the gaze from his single eye transfixing the decorated military man in his seat. He shifted his finger and eye toward the room full of soldiers. “Victory is our only path to survival. Not just those of us in this room, but everyone.” He said, his raised voice echoing with conviction.

“There is no win or lose!” The young man in black spat on the ground. “There is only win, or die! This day, no, this moment is what we worked toward. It’s why we curated these datastreams. The chance for one strike that changes the face of this war is why I’ve gathered our forces for this battle. If operation Nemesis fails, if we fail tomorrow, then we, the big we, are over! Understand this, if we fail tomorrow, humanity is doomed. There is no holding back!” The black-clad man clenched both fists and appeared to wrestle with himself. “We cannot afford to see this conflict any other way.”

The General paled, swallowed hard, and nodded his assent. “Of course, you’re right. But what I said before still stands. You’ve done all you can. Whatever is left, you’re doing it right now.”

The young man sagged back into his chair like someone much older and nodded. The light in his eyes and crackling aura of power around him receded. “I hope it’s enough. It has to be,” he whispered.