First there is the darkness that follows the blinding of the bright light, which is only further intensified by the rebounding of the walling.

Second, while the blindingness dissipates naturally given a few moments, there is still an utter darkness that surrounds the vision, for it is not even obvious if the eyes are open or still shut by how tight the seal is.

Third is when that seal gradually unravels, the golden tentacles functioning as the coils of the container pulling away like fingers being taken off someone’s eyes with the intent of a surprise.

Fourth enters a bright light with the freeing of the tentacles, a light that blinds for a few seconds at first, but only takes seconds to readjust and adapt to, helped by the rubbing of eyes indicated by the squishy sound.

Fifth that light tapers down to finally allow sight of the environment that had been withheld but now presented especially with the lowering of the two small fair-skinned hands, that environment exposed to being first met by a surrounding holographic monitor ring, which displays a series of charts and diagrams namely of the solar system and specified Earths.

Sixth focus is shifted more generally to the full surroundings to find oneself inside a colossal cave so vast its bounds are not observational as the fog of darkness is instead the only border presented. Without a well defined limit to the space’s volume, what is instead left is an ominous hollowness which almost perpetuates an unnerving existentialism due to just how enormous the space is yet how little can be discovered. Into the void, focus is rested on for a few moments, utter silence following after the full retraction of the tentacles.

Seventh up raises attention to the one clear surface of the cave: the ceiling, although it does not very well bring relief as that ceiling is covered in huge stalactites with fine blades and a size great enough for just one to penetrate an entire body. With the sheer innumerable quantity hung up, it leads to a sense of being watched, of being in constant threat, for paradoxically such an incalculably large area concurrently feels claustrophobic.

Eighth drops the concentration straight from up to down, down to the matte black surface being stood on with those small white shoes encasing the knee socks also white.

Ninth shifts sight slightly higher up to observe the full floor, for the black surface is just a smaller platform only as long as the holographic ring, as beyond the ring is an extension of the platform yet in a hypnotic chrome which itself about doubles the platform’s area.

Tenth hears footsteps that echo infinitely omnidirectionally but originates near, followed by the familiar senile raspy voice which remarks with an astounded tone, “Oh shit, I completely forget we could just do that,” that voice coming from the bald old man in the brown overcoat who stands beside the short-haired middle-aged woman in the black blazer, she of whom turning her head with eyes that flash from green to gold.

Immediately becoming puzzled upon the analysis of her surroundings, Kokei’s eyebrow lifts, taking a step forward as the holographic ring abruptly dissipates upon the forward exploration of her friend. She raises her head back up to the cutting ceiling and then to Ekitai who paces around the platform before then rounding her search to Dana who instead remains at the center of the black platform with a contemplative look.

She then inquires with weighty perplexion in her tone, “Wait, why are we here? I thought this was the last place we were supposed to be in, that it wasn’t safe here? I mean, I don’t really…like the place we were just at, but should we really be here?”

However, Dana does not seem too concerned about the implications of their return, rather she instead turns her head slowly while scanning through golden irises, her expression stern with a scrunch on her forehead, clearly deep in her own trance.

Her reconnaissance is concluded upon the stopping of her swivel, yet in truth that is only the first step as she then begins to walk forward off the black platform without even an answer, leaving Kokei just more bewildered.

Towards the edge Ekitai roams, to which he quickly picks up on the major lack of presence compared to the last visit he had to the cave, which used to be inhabited by a whole family of other chrome platforms which all would levitate at varying positions and altitudes, a family that could be seen from just about any angle.

Yet picking one and analyzing it, from his perspective over his shoulder not a single platform is in sight, for instead the cave appears largely empty, and without those platforms to shed light the cave’s dark fog only covers more of the already unwelcoming space.

He turns his head slightly to read this minor sample, observing out loud: “Well damn, man really turned off the lights before leaving the basement.”

Across from Ekitai who just stares with a casual face, still not entirely caught on to the greater story being unraveled, Dana instead retains her deeply meditative expression while slowly making her way to the edge of the chrome platform too, although further from him.

For a few moments Kokei just remains on the black platform with a dumbfounded face, yet in search of understanding she then follows Dana with the hope that she’d have the best answers despite the first attempt to uncover them resulting in failure.

Ekitai does not seem too bothered by Dana’s strange choices, whether it be because he was becoming used to her bizarre antics or because he was instead infatuated by the hibernation state of the base. His yellow irises glisten from the little light illuminating him, that being the one from the platform he stands on.

While he explores on his own, Dana stops at the very edge on the other side and lowers her head, her pondering state shifting to one of heightened curiosity, her eyebrow raising as an epiphany dawns on her.

Cautiously Kokei strolls towards her, haunted by the ill atmosphere of the sleeping cave, no longer occupied by all the pads that had given it a more inhabited image which provided at least some much needed safety. Still she pushes on to Dana, whose eyes tighten into a golden glare before she mutters quietly, “What…is that?” to which Ekitai’s focus is then pulled from his own investigation and joined with her.

During Ekitai’s slow stroll over to the two companions, one of them being Dana just stares down in return to silence, her eyes still gold, as Kokei reaches her side with a puzzled, “Huh?” before she then swiftly follows the trail of sight below.

Kokei’s eyebrow then followingly raises but with the expansion of her eyes, also clearly intrigued by the sight before her, and she too mentions: “Wait, that’s sort of strange.”

The two just maintain their stare almost ominously, infatuated with whatever their gazes have seemed to lock onto, an oddity that in itself Ekitai finds intrigue in, although not enough for him to change his snail’s pace. He just takes his leisurely time to reach them instead, which does not take too long for neither of the two even break their gazes before he arrives at Dana's side opposite from Kokei, his hands in his pockets.

After stopping next to Dana, he questions curiously yet casually while naturally following her gaze, “Okay, what’s so interesting-,” before he abruptly silences, his answer given to him before one could be handed back.

For that answer lies in the spot his yellow eyes sit on, the same spot the other three fixate on, that spot in front of all of them past and below the platform’s edge, that being a second chrome platform not too far in the distance, a platform with a seemingly clean surface fully clear of clutter and items.

The three just stare at the platform, all of them bearing the same disorientation immediately, although the precise reason for such is one that cannot be so easily derived. There was an uncanniness that could not be traced to, a very slight deviation from normalcy that could not be distinguished from genuine uniformity.

Something about that neighboring empty pad was off putting, that at the very least all of them understood, yet understanding why was another task that wasn’t made explicit so quickly.

In between the mystified faces of Kokei and Ekitai who just stare blankly, Dana is the one to put into words in a quiet murmur, “I’ve…never seen a pad like that…one that just has nothing on it. All of them always carry something visible, whether it be equipment or at the very least tables but…never just nothing….”

Stupefied but curious, Ekitai shrugs his shoulders and offers nonchalantly, “Maybe it’s some sort of activation platform to summon all the others? Like you stand on it and boom, everything snaps into place?”

Yet to that idea Dana shakes her head and denies instantly, “That’s not it, he can just summon them through the server, he doesn’t need a physical activator. I’ve witnessed him shutting The Pad down before, it only ever left this one platform that we’re on now, only so we could return back. But never any more, and I don’t see why he’d change that, at least I don’t see why that would be meant to be there now.”

Eager too to try offering guesses, Kokei slightly tilts her head and wonders, “Maybe it has to do with defense? Like in case Exitium comes here to trash everything, this has some sort of…well…but I guess in that case there should be something visible unless all of the weapons are part of the platform itself…never mind actually I don’t know.”

“Me neither, but since we’re already here, may as well find out,” declares Dana boldly before then taking another step off the edge, to which Kokei’s eyes immediately expand in horror as she throws her arm forwards in a desperate saving attempt, although upon the sound of the loud footstep clang that reverberates throughout the cave, Kokei’s despair transforms into bemusement as she then lowers her arm.

Nearly faded from Kokei’s memory, a translucent blue bridge connects the initial platform to this mysterious empty one, a bridge which albeit is narrow with no railings for safety, is definitely solid in that it supports Dana’s weight as proved by her walking on it.

Ekitai is next to follow onto the bridge, his intrigue growing as he glances around the cave in silence, following right behind the line leader with his footsteps also resulting in blaring clangs caused by the interaction of the foot and the bridge.

At first apprehensive to follow due to the narrowness of the bridge as well as the lack of true solid material, Kokei just stares at the two of her friends casually walking down, glancing up and around herself in search for an alternative. However, her search returns null, for it does not take long to recall the limited traversal options of the base, a memory that is met with a sigh.

Still apprehensive yet slightly more confident upon the recall of the many times she had walked these bridges since being first introduced to them, Kokei steps onto the translucent blue surface with one foot on and the other lingering on the platform, yet that other one is then lifted up and moved to the bridge. First she takes slow and cautious steps, bending her knees to keep her body low, her clangs being dampened as an unintentional result.

Following the other two, Kokei observes the cave more with this new free position, glancing up at the ceiling once more but now able to look down past the chrome floor, all the way down the steep drop to the endless dark underground sea that resides as the floor of the cave, just barely visible given the scarce light in the cave. While technically there is now a visible surface at the bottom, there is no telling how deep the sea goes as the water is nearly black, allowing no transparency through the surface film. There is no affirmation on how steep the drop even is due to the lack of references other than the dark water itself, and the lack of visibility past the top only invites uncomfort and anxiety. A complete darkness, an open void, with no telling of how deep its body is, or how wide its mouth opens, a mouth that could seemingly consume just about anything.

While not a beneficial or productive thought, the idea of falling and furthermore being trapped inside those waters is one that breaches into Kokei’s mind, and such a haunting image of drowning in despair causes goosebumps that makes her shiver and hug herself tightly.

She raises her head up to her two friends with the decision to not linger in thought on the creepy void right below her feet, and her pace slightly picks up to huddle closer to their warming presences.

Already by the end, Dana marches straight on with steady steps, her concentration honed straight on the path ahead of her, her eyes sharp in a glare and her posture stiff. Right behind her casually strolls Ekitai, and not too far behind now catches up Kokei with a slight jog albeit one highly cautious as to not make one wrong and possibly fatal step.

Upon reaching the other edge of the bridge yet not quite on the neighboring platform’s surface, Dana strangely halts in place, her eyes still ahead and her expression remaining the same, although with a clear uncertainty now that she was right before the strange platform.

Ekitai immediately stops just right behind her and leans to the side over the sea to catch a glimpse of her face, puzzled by the decision to pause.

The pause does permit Kokei the necessary time to prance over to them, closing the distance yet initially unaware of said pause, as Kokei only recognizes it at the very last instant causing her fright on her last step, her arms extending out both ways to hastily balance herself as she breaks just a few inches behind Ekitai nearly about to collide with him.

She freezes up for a few seconds before then slowly tiptoeing one step backwards to make some space, breathing a relieved sigh before lowering her arms to her side.

Her relief then transforms also to mystification, not bold enough to lean over but still trying to peek past Ekitai’s shoulder to the frozen leader, although she cannot do that due to the vast differences in their statures.

There would not have been much advantage to landing a glimpse anyways as Dana soon acts, her golden irises reverting to their natural green. She then inhales a deep breath, as if in preparation for what could come next, as a foreboding feeling looms above her.

She then releases the breath with the closure of her eyes, pushing out all the anxieties holding her back. After thoroughly pushing out the air, she opens her eyes in a more neutral gaze, and finally she takes the last step forward to enter the platform, to which Ekitai and Kokei both slowly follow.

Immediately upon their entrances, they all freeze in place with faces of pure shock, Kokei’s jaw dropped and Dana’s eyes expanded, as what lies before them is an anomaly that they could not anticipate.

In front of the three of them is the platform they approached, the platform just a moment prior completely empty and clear, yet that platform now is occupied by a dense grouping of machinery that was not visible even a second ago, with such abrupt visual overload that it takes time to process it all.

Through Ekitai’s yellow eyes, on one side of the platform is a long white table that was not previously there accompanied with a chair both levitating, but beside that is a strange large upright pod chamber with the capacity to store a human body, which sits on an elevated black platform being sandwiched by yet another table amongst others scattered around.

While the tables are nothing too interesting, that chamber is one that absorbs the attention, made with a smooth metal finish that does not even so as allow distinction of the hinges.

Through Kokei’s pink eyes, on the other side of the platform is a tremendous machine of complex mechanics; tall silver cylinders and chambers interconnected by a network of tubes that feed into a device resembling an oven spiked with a series of large vials all of which are filled with a mysterious blue liquid.

This side also has its own upright pod chamber albeit unique in that it is elevated on three separate grounded platforms rather than hovering, and from the top of the chamber protrudes a mess of wires curled upwards like lightning rods. It hums from a transparent window on the shell which reveals a bright white glow, as the entire device was something straight from a mad scientist’s laboratory.

Through the network of tubes that weave through more cylinders, it all reaches one more chamber although not one meant to store a body but rather one that carries a series of silver plates all hovering one above the other and spinning slowly; on those plates are small strange clear cylinders exhibiting a radiating blue substance within.

While the machine is still hygienic and could have been even messier, it was still undoubtedly the most unhinged piece of equipment that she had seen from the base, as it deviated hard from the smooth finishes that never exposed any wiring, presenting the appearance of a magical device given the lack of visible mechanisms. While there could be made a case that this machine too had a fantastical appearance, it was rather in the context of an unnerving alien design with capabilities that had estimates leaning towards more eerie places.

While the other equipment had a finish that gave it an intentional presentation, as though designed to be seen and admired by others rather than solely the one who’d particularly operate it, this one was not embellished in such makeup, rather it was raw in its fundamental mechanics and lacking in excess design. There was no covering for the wires, no smoothening of the compartment holding the vials, none of what would technically be unnecessary but aesthetically would be inviting. Instead there is the bare minimum for operation, foregoing the beautification which would lead to the assumption of it not being designed for the eyes of others, an ugly face that was never meant to be looked at by outsiders.

Yet it is through Dana’s green eyes which finds the most shocking of sights as proven by her aghast face. As it is through those eyes that trails up the chrome surface, which from the entrance edge is clean. Yet further up is light littering of transparent containers shaped like deodorant sticks with a black strip on the bottom, clear and empty. First there are only a few, although ahead there becomes an increasing quantity, a denser cluster that grows.

From just a few scattered sticks, heaps begin to form, small at first with just a few neighbors but soon there are small piles of them, sticks so close together they stack on each other. That is far from the worst of it as it’s truly only the bottom of the mountain, as more beyond the sight trails the more dense the crowd of empty sticks are until soon the chrome surface is hardly even visible underneath them.

Moving up towards the center, the entire floor is completely masked by a heavy heap of sticks all haphazardly stacked in an utter mess. The heap is so tall it nearly covers the silver shoe at the bottom of the leg dressed in black, a leg that is then followed up.

Up at the top of the shin is a wrinkly hand pale as white grasping the knee, holding it closely. The wrist of that hand is wrapped by the sleeve of a gray leather jacket with the upper half of the sleeve intentionally a lighter shade than the bottom, divided by a much lighter strip, although in truth all three of the tones are far from clean black.

Behind that sleeve is the forward-leaning torso that is wrapped by the majority of the jacket, thicker strips of the same lightest shade down the sides by the bordering of the ribcage, and above that are two smaller ones arched over the chest like breast pockets.

The jacket opens up in the style of a biker, revealing a plain black shirt underneath, and above that shirt is the wrinkly white neck of the man surrounded by the large leather collar which is itself surrounded by the black hood. Also surrounding the neck but dangling from above are four locks of fragile white hairs, thin and dying, the several hairs remaining nested in the few groups in an attempt to make them more noticeable than if left alone.

Those dangling locks originate at the top of the white head, the head with the wrinkly white face that wears a frown.

Above that frown, at the center of the face, are the two hardly open azureous eyes that tell a hefty misery, staring straight down at the heap that surrounds him.

As it is that man who sits at the central top of the vast mountain of used sticks, his body leaning forward, his right hand grasping his right knee as his left one just lays flat on the pile, supporting the limp left arm whose hand rests beside the left foot, dug into the pile, the white hand feeling a tiny fraction of the lump. The right foot sits right in front of the left, the ankles nearly touching, the body huddled to itself, huddled to its own trash that litters the whole platform’s center, leaving little room to even openly stroll.

That man’s eyes lingered on the floor as they had been for a time unknown, in between the hanging locks, yet to the approach of the new presence his irises slowly rose up from the bottom to the top to get just a good enough view of the newcomers.

However, upon getting a peek, his head is slowly lifted up all the way to meet the gaze of those on him, his mouth still shut, his face too numb to react.

Frowning, the man gazes straight forward on the peak of his hollow mountain, atop his cold and empty throne.

Horrified at the unfathomable sight, Dana just stares in silence, her jaw hanging open, her eyes broadened and shimmering on the verge of tears. Beside her both Kokei and Ekitai have locked onto the same sight, Kokei’s expression more of shocked in apprehensive bewilderment, and Ekitai concernedly puzzled.

They just stare in silence side by side at their fourth ally, all of them left speechless.

At the edge of the platform stands the three guests, shoulder to shoulder, all facing the owner in the very center seated on the pile, surrounded by all the strange machine equipment.

They just stare at each other for a few silent moments in the process of the other’s presence as behind the three the bridge vanishes, stranding them on the island with the owner.

They stand in the center of the void, blackness beyond their tiny colony, darkness surrounding them all with the minimal light, the only source of luminescence brightening them now being that of the pad they’re right now on.

Yet that light only reaches so far before being defeated by the darkness that then continues for infinity, an ominous infinity that slowly creeps in on the little remaining life that has breached into its body.

Without any voices spoken, there is nothing else to fill that abyss, just pure silence, complete nothingness.

Staring up with those miserable eyes, the man on the ground is the first to speak, although soft spoken in a dreary whisper that being: “You shouldn’t be here….”

While first unable to find words, the initialization instantly pushes Dana a step forward and propels the exclamation: “Medit, what is this??”

Her head bobs and swivels spontaneously, but in her wavering sight there appears an interest that fixes her neck, an interest that her eyes dilate more to consume, her mouth hanging open again.

Suddenly Dana takes off, marching down the platform away from Ekitai and Kokei’s side, who are both stunned, unsure of how to act, unsure of what to even think.

Yet the owner does not show reaction to Dana, not even as she walks around him, down the vast machine along the edge, trailing to its end.

In heavy hasty steps Dana approaches the final chamber at the end of the machine, following the tubing down to the exhibition of plates, and she comes to a stop right in front of it.

Her eyes progressively tear up more as she stares straight at the floating plates, straight at the sticks on them all filled with the radiating gel-like blue substance. She cannot even speak again, horror drowning her lungs at the sight that she immediately recognized, for it was one that would never leave her until the end of her days.

Her face is toned in blue from the luminescence of the sticks, the blue mixing with the natural green of her iris to transform her irises to a cyan hue, cyan like the burning supersun, as though in that moment she was seeing through its eyes.

Her jaw shakes as words try but fail to come out of her mouth, her bangs being brushed by a gentle breeze, clearing up her face in the moment that a tear finally escapes her eye and begins pouring down her cheek.

Her words in this moment finally manages to escape her mouth: “Why…why is this here?”

One way forward the man stares drearily, where beside and behind his white face stands Dana facing the other way at the machine. They do not look at each other, for even after the question Dana maintains her opposite gaze, entranced by the horridity of the sight so much she’s unable to peel her eyes off it.

Also maintaining his own opposite gaze, the man exhales softly before mentioning, “You shouldn’t have been summoned back yet…it’s too soon….”

In front of the man still stands Ekitai and Kokei in place, although the former of which begins gliding forwards while clarifying, “Wait, ‘summoned back?’ So you were planning to pull us back here eventually?”

He nervously chuckles before relieving, “Man, for a second I thought you actually done did it and ditched us, like damn we really should’ve just came back here from the start before searching the city, I was also just surprised you’d actually do that. Damn, maybe you’re more hardcore than I gave you credit for.”

Without an expression changed, the man on the floor just asks with a slightly puzzled yet still fatigued tone, “Wait, you came back here on your own? But…how would you know?”

Bluntly Ekitai shrugs his shoulders, standing now in front of Kokei and admitting, “I got no idea my man, Dana just figured it out of nowhere, probably some sort of weird cyborg thing. Does she got a chip in her brain or something?”

Shaving off most of the excess to only take the very core information, the man exhales again in a sigh before murmuring, “This isn’t right….”

“No, it isn’t,” exclaims Dana with a distress bordering on breakdown, although in a different context, finally turning around to face the man, although only to his back as he still stares forward. She snatches one of the sticks and then begins to storm towards him, growing larger to his perspective, closing the gap until finally she walks right around him.

Above the man who just remains seated on the mountain, Dana looms over with the stick full of the blue substance in her shaking hand, her entire body shivering as she fights to keep herself together enough to still speak with any comprehensibility.

She ventilates hastily after the short stroll, as though having just sprinted a marathon, before she then confronts in a voice both in anguish and anger, a beg and a reprimand: “Why are you…making these…drugs? After everything you did, why is this here…and who are you selling it to-,” although the lagged revelation at that moment strikes her, silencing her in horrified shock.

At the center of the pile of the emptied, used sticks the same exact container as the one in the lecturer’s hand, the man just sits and stares up with a cold glare, his soulessly hollow irises at the top edge of his sclera, a trashy look, an explicit display of filth.

“No…,” realizes Dana, staggering backwards nearly into Kokei who strafes to the side. She shakes her head rapidly, her hand tightening its grip on the stick as it all floods into her, “No no no no no…why…this…no…you wouldn’t…no…no that’s not it…it’s not….”

“Dana…it’s not safe here,” whispers the man with a frown, his glare cold and eerie yet his words opposite in its sentimental despair.

“HOW LONG???” abruptly screams Dana, so sudden that Kokei staggers in fright and Ekitai immediately turns his attention to her.

At first not following, the man just quietly asks puzzled, “What-,”

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN TAKING THIS??!” shrieks Dana in clarification with the waving of the stick, her entire body shaking, hardly able to support itself on just her two legs as Kokei and Ekitai just stare at her, appalled by her sudden intensification.

Yet there is no response, for instead the man just lowers his head and irises down, returning his gaze back to the floor where the pile of empty sticks sit, just staring at them in silent shame.

Through the myriad of cases dispersed on the ground, a fragmented reflection of the man’s white face returns to his gaze, broken up and scattered among the various sticks almost like an abstract portrait in its distortion of the physical face. That face just frowns somberly, not speaking a word in response to the clear question.

“I…I can’t believe it,” stutters Dana, still in shock as she staggers from side to side, Ekitai and Kokei both visibly concerned of her well-being seeing just how barely she’s being kept in one piece.

“You…you would never…never do anything like this…after everything you did…you of all people should know how…I just don’t…I don’t get…how is this even happening right now? Am I dreaming? Is this some kinda joke, Medit? Is this some sort of really dry joke you’re playing on me? Tell me it’s a joke, Medit. I’m sorry but it’s a really, really shitty joke, it’s really not funny at all, I don’t get what the punchline is but at least just tell me right now it’s a joke. I mean really I don’t even…I mean…I…I just don’t understand what you’re…I don’t know who you are.”

“Kokei was right,” drearily murmurs the man’s voice, which immediately pulls the concentration of the one mentioned, her pink eyes lighting up aghast as she immediately turns towards the man. Dana also becomes perplexed, turning her head to her too, her body still shaking tremendously as she’s even more disarrayed.

In between and beyond Kokei’s and Dana’s shoulders, the man seated on the pile of sticks quietly admits, “She was right about everything.”

He scoops up one of the empty sticks with his left hand and just blankly stares at it while reflecting, “I really am a pathetic failure…in so many ways you couldn’t even understand.”

Traumatized with teary pink eyes at the regurgitation of those regretted words, Kokei steps forward with the extension of her arm and attempts to recover, “No, wait, I didn’t mean to-,”

“It didn’t even take much time for you to see through me…through my inabilities…through my shallow strengths…but you even saw through my lies…didn’t you?” interjects the man, which shuts Kokei to listen in a frown, lowering her arm.

On the ground the man recalls, “So many lies…it’s the foundation I’ve built my life on. I’ve always been a liar…I don’t know if there’s anyone I haven’t lied to…. I’ve betrayed everyone who’s ever trusted me the moment I met them…but I guess I’m getting worse at lying…aren’t I-,” before he suddenly breaks into a hawking cough which he instinctively shields with his sleeve.

However, combined with the occupied states of both hands and the fatigued state he’s already in, his sleeve only reaches his mouth after the first few coughs, allowing just a bit of red to spit out.

That red spit splatters over the clear cases that had projected the man’s ghoulish reflection, painting them over in crimson using a material instantly recognized by all three, a splatter that was still thick and wide despite only a mere fraction of it being exposed.

Terrorized by the reveal of the next yet not even final echelon in the extent to the man’s decaying condition mixed with the flood of other information in overload, the three stand and stare morbidly in silence while he continues to cough his lungs out, although strangely Ekitai seems the most visibly discomforted by the coughing and blood as the puzzles piece themselves together into the narrative he theorized.

Alas the coughing comes to an end, and a faint light flashes over the man’s sleeve before he returns his arm back down, although retention of the illusion has already gone awry.

“Wait…,” recognizes Dana, glancing back at the stick, her body beginning to gain stability as she starts to control herself.

She then switches glances to the man before going back to the stick and doing a double take before ending on the man again.

Through her she stares at the pale white man on the ground, his senile figure which appears to be in the ages of the hundreds, his hairs hardly sticking on his balding head.

“You’ve been doing this…from the beginning…haven’t you? Ever since…I saw you after the…the incident. I’ve just never…I never thought it could be something like this…but you’ve been doing this here from…but why?”

Still very much bewildered, Dana waves her hands in the air and takes a step towards the man, beseeching: “Why would you ever need to resort to this?? Medit…you’re…you’re better than this. You’ve put in work very few other people like you have…you’ve always taken the long road…and it got you so far. You’re so strong Medit…you’re the strongest there is…you’re the last person who’d even need this stuff. You’ve been natural all this time so why…why would you break now?”

Tears begin to stream out of her eyes like a river, which she tries to dam up by wiping them away with the backs of her hands, sobbing while querying: “Why would you ever want to do this to yourself…why would you throw your life away like this…fuck I don’t even want to ask how much time you…no…Medit why?”

“I’ve never known why you were changing like this…but don’t you know…how much it hurt to see you…every other time I’d meet you it’d be worse than the last…,” reflects Dana as in front of her the man gazes at her with tired eyes.

Failing miserably at stopping all the tears flooding out of her eyes, Dana wails painfully: “I’m supposed to be older than you! You can’t pass me like this!!”

Dana weeps where she stands, all the other three staring at her in her heartbroken state, silent as they each don’t seem exactly sure of how to act.

Slowly Kokei extends her hand towards Dana's shoulder to try comforting her as that’s the only move that can be conjured in her mind, although that move is done steadily and somewhat awkwardly.

“I lied in that story,” confesses the man, to which suddenly Kokei retracts her arm back and turns to the man in shock, same as Ekitai. Even instantly the tears stop falling, and after Dana wipes the remaining streams she lowers her arms; through her dry eyes she stares at the one on the floor.

Blinking twice after rubbing her eyes so hard, Dana weakly asks, “Huh-?” to which the man on the pile raises his head up at the three, staring straight at them head on.

His azure gaze fixed now, no longer wavering in eye contact hiding in shame, the man just stares up at those who have found him, and he elaborates: “The story I told you, that I told them, back that night when the war ended. I’ll preface that most of it was indeed fact, however I slipped a lie in.”

Each of the three’s faces become stunned by the strange reveal on the subject, the subject they had not pondered too heavily on after its initial telling, which caught them off guard especially in a moment of exposure.

Among the three a hint of intrigue lights up in Kokei, the one who first was so enthralled by that story to begin with, and with a step forward she asks, “What…what part?”

“Meditat’s survival.”

Slowly, Kokei’s curiosity shifts to an utter befuddlement, and she tilts her head as the other two are also shown heavily dazed.

Completely straight faced, the man just stares at the three of them stone cold as he confesses, “In the story, I said that Meditat survived, that he was transported back here right before his death. But that was a lie. He did not survive.”

It was that moment, the moment where the body of Meditat was drifting backwards into the colossal cyan flame, a moment that happened so quickly but was perceived over the course of a whole other lifetime.

It was that moment where through the radiating blue parallelogram lenses of the white mask, he stared helplessly as the cyan light covered his azure suit, reflecting off the golden smooth pauldron piece on his shoulders and upper arms.

It was that moment where in his final act he raised his right hand up, extending his arm out in a desperate reach for safety, a reach to nothing, to nowhere. That reach which was directed nowhere but to the void.

So close was Meditat’s body to the cyan supersun’s burning surface, flares dancing in the distance, thrashing wildly and sporadically, bubbles of the pot he was falling into.

And it was that moment where the pencil insignia on the chest flared up even brighter, as did all of the streaks emerging from it, the flow of energy crawling from the chest to the shoulder down the arm all the way into the hand before being secreted into an open blue flame.

It was that moment where before Meditat’s body an instant from ignition, another blue fire ignited, but rather than the one to devour him it was from himself, a blue fire that crawled in front of his body before immediately spreading over the black void in front of himself, transforming shape from a simple stream into a fire wall about the size of the creator.

It was that moment that the flame grew before Meditat until stopping at his size, and then from the front changed shape, morphed and molded into the shape of a humanoid, a humanoid intricately sculpted in that very instant to resemble that of the creator, all until the flame just perfectly covered his body, resulting in the sight of a man made of fire with the genuine black hood and cape behind him as if it were on his body.

It was that moment when more flames reinforced the fire statue, molding a hood over the head connected to a much larger cape piece, gradually covering up the entire body behind it, even creating the very meticulous shapes of the crystals on the knuckles that just barely bulged out.

It was that moment when finally, the fire statue perfectly overlaid the original body of the creator.

It was that moment when from behind, Meditat stared blankly with his hand reaching out, but no longer was it just reaching into blank space, for now instead it was holding the shoulder of the flaming statue before him.

It was that moment when the black cape of Meditat lit up on cyan flames before rapidly crawling up onto the back of the body, torching it in an instant.

It was that moment when the fire statue hardened and solidified, the excess flames being smoothened to create a clean figure like clay being heated in an oven.

It was that moment when the statue made its final transformation, being colored and materialized into an exact replication of the creator’s body dawning precisely the same azure suit, so much so that it’s a mirror duplicate.

That duplicate had the exact same stance, the exact same bruises on its body, a perfect copy of the creator who was right behind him with his hand on its shoulder, both of them now right above the cyan boiling pot.

And in that moment, the two light up blue, the one in front flaring in a bright blue light, and the one behind being consumed in huge cyan flames.

It was that moment when Meditat overlaid by his creation fell into the pit, the final creation made the instant before his perishment.

As his body sunk into the supersun, his other lit up in a blue flash, consuming his whole body instantaneously. His arm remained stretched forward, his hand stretched open, as it lost all solid composition, and just became a shimmer.

Finally, he vanished in a blinding blue blaze.

“Meditat was killed alongside the rest of The Shield that day…he died with his team,” the man reveals, staring straight up on his mountain.

“And all that was left behind…was me…a copy.”

Locked in a trance of sheer emotional flooding that resulted in a visibly pure blank state for not a single word could be thought of to compose a response, Dana, Ekitai, and Kokei just stand silently to listen to the man elucidate, “It was on a scale never done before, never had he even made a living organism previously, let alone a man, let alone an Exhuman. It was truly…a remarkable final act. One I never knew was possible. And honestly, it was nearly flawless.”

Sticks brushed against his white wrinkly hand that sways back and forth very lightly, the man keeps his gaze up as he explains, “Honestly I’m unsure why he’s always struggled in creating organic biology, theoretically it isn’t very complex but he’s always just failed to manifest anything living. So theoretically it is not that miraculous to create a person…but to give it Exhuman abilities…that is not of the same simplicity. He has learned an encyclopedia of knowledge on Exhuman abilities and the science of their function, and Razi had allowed him to research on the experimentations that led to his abilities as they were not ones he had from birth but rather ones given to him by man. But still…to create that…especially with no practice…the most flawed part of this product was the abilities, because very quickly it started to wear out. It hardly took time for me to struggle with consistency and stamina, but unfortunately by the time I realized the issue of being who I truly was, it was too late to try again. Trust me…if I could just replace myself again…I would…I’m no more than a prototype…imperfect and not to the standards of practical use.”

In silence and astoundment Dana listens to the man continue, “So…I developed my own variant of the Exhuman enhancement serum…. I…used the ample research I had done years ago during its reign in Versepolis…and perfected the formula to properly regulate the decay it would perpetuate on me. To be honest…part of me hoped that I could try to reach the level of strength necessary to create another clone but with the additional research done to reduce its flaws, however I was never able to reach even a fraction of the results…again I struggled to even create so much as a worm. Thus without the option for replacement, the only choice I had was to try making the most out of myself. But no matter how careful I was, the serum was decaying my body, and I was making little progress in cleaning the aftermath of Meditat’s passing. It’s…why I needed that suit…I needed a backup I could rely on…and steadily in time I grew to rely on it more than my own abilities. Eventually I was able to even make a moderate dosage which would hardly affect me…but was just enough to give me a backup in case my suit wouldn’t suffice. It was still decaying my body…but I knew I had enough time…at least to end the war and let this world heal.”

Stunned still, Kokei just listens to the man’s monologue with wide eyes: “Ironically…that last mission was a technical failure, in the regard that I was not meant to reveal my identity. Originally I was meant to defeat the two leaders and force the truce, however my own failings forced me to fall onto an alternative I didn’t prefer. I know that the news of ‘Meditat’s survival’ invigorated the world to seek stability within itself, it gave easy inspiration for people to stop fighting, but that’s what it was, easy inspiration. They only changed because of the lie that Meditat was still alive, rather than being able to on their own. Honestly…I’m worried that sooner than later people will notice my lack of presence despite the numerous dilemmas plaguing the Superverse, and they may start to doubt that dream. That’s how it is, isn’t it? At first there’s a spark of delight to the thought of Meditat being alive, but that flame doesn’t last very long, and upon the realization that the stand-in for him is not to the standard wanted, disappointment follows soon after.”

Pensive but attentive, Ekitai follows along with the pained admission: “This is all not to mention just how…disastrous the aftermath of that falsity was…what it triggered…what it awoke. If he was thought to still be dead…then I wouldn’t need to be facing his brother…I wouldn’t even need to be here to begin with. This catastrophe of a mission…I was hardly able to survive just being on those other Earths…and I dragged all of you with me. I put you all through suffering that none of you deserved, you were all punished for my mistakes, following a mindless fool acting like he had a plan.”

His head low once again, the man stares down at the litter as quietly, miserably he professes, “I should have never agreed to that mission. I should have never agreed to taking you with me. I should have never agreed to any of this. I’ve…done so much damage.”

His somber eyes just drearily face the hollow abyss in those sticks, his anguish explicit in the words of his declaration, “But…I’ll put an end to it. Myself. Like I should have done from the very beginning. Even if it’s the end for me. My only fear…is that when I’m gone…there will be more chaos that I won’t be able to stop…perhaps that is the sole reason for my existence. Even with all his memories, I truly don’t know why I was created. Maybe he didn’t either. There’s a good chance it wasn’t an intentional decision, rather some sort of…thoughtless reflex…a mistake even…a mistake that’s been usurping his name for ten years…. People hated that mask…I knew it was sacrilege…but I chose to wear it…knowing I’m not even his shadow. I’m just the one foot in that is technically preserving the age of heroes…but when I’m gone…that age will die with a whimper.”

Silently Dana, Ekitai, and Kokei just stand in front of the man, their heads low the same as his, processing and pondering on their own upon the weighty revelation. Dana’s tears had stopped long ago, and where once was anger followed by heartbreak, now there only remains a melancholy that drifts like a void in her chest, a gloom shared by him, the chilly breeze brought in by the opening of his window. Again she had blown up on the face of someone who was secretly in deep pain, but causing destruction to such a greater extent, at least to someone she was so much closer to. She was right about the fact she truly did not know him, as she had never truly known just how much suffering he was enduring, and that epiphany now recontextualized the past ten years and every one of their interactions in a way that widened the wound. She was missing the entire story for this entire decade, following along without a true comprehension of events, and now she knew it yet it already felt too late.

Kokei also just frowns with a low head, ashamed magnitudes greater now knowing just to what extent of damage her words caused, and how deep of a cut she made far beyond what she had known at the time. Her eyes were now teary too, yet she couldn’t find any words to respond with, at least any words that would do any good. Her words had only ever hurt, so much so that even trying to recover may only result in the opposite effect, a slim chance but one that felt frighteningly possible. Just as she could give little advice in Dana’s situation, here she also found herself not being able to be of any service, even though with her own problems Dana had offered genuine advice and aided her to seek redemption. She could take, but she couldn’t give, and from a reveal like the one just made, she couldn’t even think of how to offer.

But for Ekitai, he instead steps forward in instant action, nodding his head and offering in an almost childlike innocence mixed with a seemingly inappropriate sarcasm, “Well hey, if it does you any good, just cause you dig the dirt doesn’t mean all of the worlds are gonna burn in flames. Besides, I think your big talks about ‘freedom’ and ‘heroism’ has really touched this old man’s heart, so if some big guy starts shit talking about destroying the Superverse or whatever, maybe I’ll pull up and deliver some good hero justice!”

He leans backwards and adds the snark, “I mean who knows, maybe, just maybe I’ll think about not immediately sending them to Satan’s gulag, just make them sleep or whatever you do. I mean it’s a stupid rule that makes me vomit in my mouth but you know, I’m feeling charitable today.”

Instantly Dana explodes with her eyes blazing furiously, and she steps forward pushing her finger into Ekitai’s chest –who turns to glare back at her– before reprimanding harshly, “Excuse me, what the hell do you think you’re saying??! Honestly Ekitai please shut up right now, Medit isn’t going to go anywhere, he’s not going to be left to get hurt alone! We’re going to stay and fight with him, don’t say those things! God, you seriously need to learn to filter yourself if you’re going to have thoughts like that in your head.”

“Thanks, Ekitai,” softly exchanges the voice of the man, which causes Kokei to raise her head up, as well as for Ekitai and Dana to both drop their bickering and turn to him. Dana drops her arm too back to her side, all three of them perplexed by the weirdly grateful response.

At the peak of the mountain of sticks, Meditat gazes up at the trio once again, and he adds in a fully sincere tone, “That means a lot,” before then nodding his head respectfully despite the crude words he was given, his mood oddly uplifted from sorrowful to somehow relieved.

“You truly spread those ideals like a virus,” suddenly speaks a voice from behind, a demonic voice raspy and deep, one immediately familiar to Meditat whose eyes instantly expand before he immediately throws himself up onto his feet, tossing sticks off his body and knocking piles to the side as he turns around to face behind himself. For right next to the end of the large machine, specifically the distribution station housing the plates holding sticks, stands the man in crimson, his blazing red lenses in the black mask staring straight back as a gentle breeze picks up both the man’s locks and the devil’s jagged cape.