An abrupt flood of white light swarms what was just a moment ago darkness, wholly consuming vision for about a moment. As the light is adapted to however, a more detailed exhibition of the surroundings is developed in vision, an exhibition that is of an enormous facility with white surfaces, the far distant inwardly curving walls and all the inner borders that help to section off the floor into distinct sectors. Even with those separations however, there was an openness resembling that of a warehouse with the shut exit all the way down ahead being a huge gray door by a lobby depressed past ramps, with grand free estate that was populated with neat piles of crates amongst large semi truck-sized pods and others of various proportions some of which resemble jeeps and even slimmer vehicles that resemble lunar rovers.

Among the heavy duty equipment are crowds of adults dressed in navy blue uniforms, some walking to and from and others stationed. Some of them in particular can be seen with a silver smooth-edged board device long as a forearm with a black glassy ball at the head above the wrist, which seems to hover just above the users’ arm rather than being physically attached.

Those wielding the devices are seen more frequently patrolling the facility whereas the ones by the crates are unarmed and instead in discussion with one another, being watched by the descending perspective that gradually makes its way from the white ceiling down to the equally white floor with the soft hum of an elevation pad.

As the perspective nears the floor, one of the uniformed men glances over towards the origin, a young man with a well groomed beard who smiles delightly before shouting in a somewhat rough yet friendly voice, “Ey Jehn! Shift up?”

That whom the man referred to was the one standing on the elevation pad before it vanishes into the floor, that being another man also dressed in the same navy blue uniform made of a fiber material, a uniform covering his arms and legs but keeping his head free to breathe. Over his left arm is the same silver board, its ballpoint glistening in the white light.

On his shoulders are epaulets of white shield-shaped badges, white as the teeth of the smiling man who seems to be in his thirties, older from the years yet still spry with only pricks of facial hair and a buzzcut.

The man referred to as Jehn nods his head and begins strolling forth upon the landing, replying cheerily: “Shift up. Doesn’t look like you’re so lucky though there, Frezen.”

Still working as the man now referred to as Frezen stands by the crates with a green holographic screen beside him presumably carrying data aiding him in his task, Frezen chuckles and shakes his head before remarking, “Oh you cut it where it hurts don’t ya,” before a woman also occupied with the crates turns to him and scolds, “Hey focus, or we’re not going to finish this up on time.”

Frezen then turns his attention to the woman and throws his arms in the air in sarcastic surrender complemented with, “Oh no, we’re all in danger then ain’t we?” He then shakes his head but obliges with his attention returned to the hologram as Jehn walks past him and down the space. He continues but at an angle, making his way towards a doorway into a different walled off sector of the floor.

Past the doorway is a narrow white corridor that Jehn strolls down with his weapon still over his arm, his arms bent in the stance of carrying a firearm although that stance was very much appropriate. He moves with a calm, unhasty pace down the hallway, his posture straight and formal, composing himself as if being judged on his walk.

Coincidentally another man in a similar uniform yet seemingly double the age given the wrinkly pale face and white hair walks up the other direction of the hallway towards Jehn and criticizes in a raspy voice, “You’re slouching, Jehn. Don’t get sloppy until you’re in your bunk.” The man is not armed and has both hands behind his back, weaponizing only a sharp blue eyed glare.

To the critique returns an innocent smile as Jehn nods his head and answers casually, “Yes sir,” before just barely straightening his back ever so slightly that it’s nearly imperceivable. He then follows up laxly, “You’re looking great too, sir.”

“Your comments are not necessary,” callously retorts the man just as he passes Jehn, to which Jehn snickers quietly to himself and shakes his head. His smile remains as he continues down the hall until coming to a stop in the middle, where he pivots towards the right wall and steps forward. Curiously enough, right before him a door-sized aperture opens up into the wall from an evaporation of the material, a hidden entrance that has granted permission.

Past the doorway is a room designed similarly to a living room with an incomplete square of three sofas in the center, and on each sofa rests an adult man lounging about, dressed not in the same uniforms but instead far more casual loungewear with one in sweatpants and a hoodie, another in shorts and a tank top, and the last one in trousers and a flannel, all three of them conversing amongst themselves.

By the corner of the room hovers a circular table accompanied by four chairs beside a long countertop sitting on a white box with the texture of a fridge.

Also along the wall are six doorways, five of them open with four leading into darker smaller rooms and the fifth into a much brighter white bathroom-esc space. The sixth one which is along the wall of the open side in the incomplete sofa square does however dematerialize soon enough, revealing the figure of Jehn who promptly steps in before the door materializes shut behind, to which the other three in the room turn their heads to meet him.

Immediately Jehn walks towards the bathroom, his weapon still over his arm without a word from him, although a word is spoken to him specifically from the man in the tank top with slicked back brown hair who greets in a deep voice, “Look who’s back after a long day of work! You really stayed till the end huh?”

Without slowing down, Jehn steps inside the bathroom, which is populated by a hovering sink table on one side opposite from a hovering seat on a bowl, and on the far end is a strange blue object resembling a locker. The bathroom door materializes shut to provide privacy, yet allows for Jehn’s voice to reach the main room albeit muffled to ask, “And you didn’t, Conner? Cameron’s gonna be on your ass sooner or later ya know.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I told him,” joins in the shoulder-length blonde haired man in the flannel with an analytical tone juxtaposed by the much more lax voice of the one in the hoodie with long brown hair in a bun who assures, “Oh come on Armon it was just for these last couple days, everyone else is doing it too.”

Almost as soon as it was closed, the bathroom door dematerializes open to reveal Jehn again, although no longer armed nor even in the uniform but instead dressed in a light blue half shirt and joggers. He steps into the room facing the man in the hoodie to ask curiously, “Last couple days? Why now, Sahla?”

“Yeah…res did you forget what tomorrow was?” responds the man in the tank top being Connor, to which Jehn almost instantly slaps his forehead in the immediate revelation, answering himself: “Wait how did I forget.”

A chuckle emits from Sahla before he jests whilst leaning further against the sofa with his arms thrown over, “Please don’t tell me you forget we’re going home tomorrow. You at least packed your shit right?”

“Yes yes, don’t worry yeah I did. Oh god I just realized I technically leave in like…three some hours, dammit,” assures and realizes Jehn as he drives his hand down his face before it falls off and returns back to his side. He then releases a hefty sigh before shaking his head and deciding, “Well, guess I should hit the mat,” before turning towards one of the four doors leading to a dark room and beginning his walk toward it.

Quick Armon is to glance at Jehn and inquire earnestly, “Wait, you don’t wanna sit with us? Come on, let’s just chat one last time.”

“Yeah Jehn, we’re all heartbroken that we’re not going to see you for a while. We don’t know how we’re ever going to go on!” banters Connor sarcastically.

“Res we are literally going to see each other soon again anyways, calm down,” coldly rejects Jehn as he reaches the doorway.

Connor remains in his relaxed stance facing the wall while he asks cheekily, “Well at the very least can you give us a kiss before you go?”

“We’re both married men…to different people,” hastily recovers Jehn, the initial innuendo stopping him by the doorway for a few seconds, but after resigning, “Would Veronica approve?” he continues his walk into the darkness, departing the conversation.

“Nah she understands it’s just what you do with the res’s, there’s nothing wrong with kissing your res’s goodnight,” throws in the distant voice of Connor although with no response as Jehn ignores it with the only reaction being a dumb smirk to the dumb comment, one he shakes off as he walks deeper into the small bedroom he finds himself in, which is about the size of a closet with little beyond a hovering twin-sized white slim mattress bed next to a bedside stand.

Right below the bed is a cabinet box placed down like the dresser of a college dormitory, optimizing storage in as small a space as possible. The box isn’t too tall however, allowing the bed a slight bounce as Jehn crawls on it, laying down on his back and releasing a heavily fatigued breath.

His arms by his side in the bed just barely large enough for him, he lays facing the ceiling as the door materializes shut, providing him both privacy and solitudinous peace to think to himself in utter darkness.

That darkness however is quickly slayed by the sudden projection of a flat holographic image facing down, an image that being a portrait photograph of a woman looking to be in her thirties with long brown hair in a white sundress. In the distance are trees with rich brown bark and vibrant green leaves, and shining on her is the cyan light of the supersun at just the right angle to not obstruct her face but rather have it seemingly glow. She has an endearing smile with shimmering hazel eyes, an inviting aura such that even from an image she exudes a warmth, one cast to the husband that is the man laying on the bed.

Jehn wears both a sentimental yet equally excited expression, acknowledging how much he has missed seeing that face with only his own eyes yet exhilarated to do just that in time so very soon. His eyes water yet he smiles brightly, giving himself a few more moments to gaze until alas the light of the image fades into darkness, returning the room to pitch black in permission for slumber.

Moments pass in this shadow, moments of silence and presumably sleep, sleep for a man who had served tirelessly for so long without rest but was finally being provided just that, knowing that the next time he may lay on a bed it would be larger and accompanied by those he loves. Just that thought alone was enough to make the twin-sized barely-cushioned bed feel like royalty, a royalty that he could fall asleep in for years.

Yet it’s hardly another second before the royal darkness is swept up by flashing crimson lights as the lightning with the thunder being the blaring deep sirens that penetrate that peace visible on Jehn’s distraught awoken face.

Wide eyed and wholly bewildered, Jehn’s rest is interrupted with the only appropriate action being to relinquish the little he had left, the comfort of the bed that he thrusts himself off of, first sitting upright and then slipping off the mattress. Before his command, the doorway out of his bedroom dematerializes for him, allowing him passage back into the living room where he finds the distraught figures of his three roommates all standing up surrounded by the sofas, all equally perplexed glancing all over the place; Sahla specifically murmuring, “The hell is going on, is that a mistake or are we having a drill at this time? No way are they doing a drill now,” just as the door out of the room evaporates open into a cloud that quickly dissipates to reveal a flood of people rushing down the tight flashing red corridor with the alarm even louder now.

Even more disturbed, all four of the roommates step cautiously towards the doorway, locked thoughtless from all the sudden commotion. Closest to the door is Armon, who glances back at the roommates with a shrug just as another man barges in through the doorway, catching Armon’s and the other roommate’s attention. The man is dressed in the navy blue uniform with the silver weapon over his right arm, looking to be either in his thirties or forties, and he bellows commandingly, “YOU GUYS NEED TO GET DRESSED AND MOVE! COME ON BOYS!” before Armon instinctively turns the other way and sprints straight for the bathroom door. Jehn watches as Armon runs all the way to the other end of the bathroom where the blue locker is, and hastily waves his hand, to which a green holographic screen projects from the locker where the handle would’ve been, which Armon swipes through before pressing down on the screen which triggers a blue flash to emit from the locker and onto Armon’s body before fully covering him and conforming to his body’s shape. After a couple seconds, the light stops emitting, eliminating the illumination over Armon’s body which had momentarily veiled it, but now without said veil it’s revealed that Armon is no longer dressed in his flannel but rather the navy blue uniform also with his silver weapon over his right arm. He then turns and runs straight out of the bathroom right as Connor dashes in to change too while Jehn turns his attention to the doorway to focus on the alerter who shouts, “COME ON, STANDARD PROTOCOL FOR AN INVASION GUYS, LET’S PICK IT UP!” Upon hearing that, Sahla is quick to inquire in a befuddled state, “Wait…invasion? Who’s invading us?”

“WHO KNOWS, COULD BE SOME RANDOM STRAY TERRORIST GROUP, MAYBE EARTH 13 FINALLY CRACKED AND THEY’RE TRYING TO WAGE WAR OR SOMETHING. FOR ALL YOU NEED TO KNOW IT COULD BE THE DEVIL HIMSELF, DOESN’T MATTER, JUST GET YOUR ASS OUT!” reprimands the man before he then turns around and runs out through the doorway, merging into the flood that charges down the hallway. Jehn then glances at Salha who catches his gaze, the two staring at each other with disturbed faces in a few seconds frozen, their jaws hanging dumbfounded. That is until Armon rushes in between them, breaking the link and calling, “Come on guys, let’s go!” before he then continues out through the doorway, to which Sahla immediately sprints into the bathroom as Connor follows Armon outside, and Jehn follows Sahla to the bathroom.

Inside the bathroom both Salha and Jehn run, Sahla first to get to the locker where he hastily swipes on the green projection screen before tapping and triggering the blue light to cast onto his body and swarm it. A couple seconds later, the light vanishes to expose Sahla in the flesh, now in his uniform and armed. He turns towards the exit and runs for it, bumping clumsily into Jehn who is knocked into the sink, groaning to which Sahla apologizes, “Shit sorry!” before then running out the exit of the room to join with the rest. Lastly, Jehn runs to the end of the bathroom where he stops at the locker, staring at the green screen which provides a simple UI interface of cards with the current one having the portrait of Sahla on it with the tag ‘Sahla Samanco.’ Jehn swipes the card to the left to pull up a different card with a portrait of himself with the tag ‘Jehn T. Lenington’ which he taps on resulting in the blue light catching him, covering his whole body from head to toe. As his whole body is covered in blue, above his left arm from the same light emerges an additional yet detached shape of the board with the ball at the end, and sure enough a few seconds later the light turns off to reveal Jehn back in the gear he just got out of: the uniform and the weapon hovering over his arm. He sighs miserably after just having been so relieved to take off the equipment, but with no time to waste, he turns around and sprints out of the bathroom and down the living room past the sofas and in through the exit.

Instantly upon entering the hallway, Jehn is submerged in the chaotic torrent of people all confused just as much as him, shouting to each other although their words are muted by the deafening siren screaming at them from every angle among the flashing red lights. Even running, Jehn gets knocked forward and to the sides from those around him, causing him to stagger and stumble, although he still manages to remain standing so as to not get entirely trampled. It’s still a struggle as he groans, any potential apologies drowned out in the sirens, leaving him to just get knocked everywhere in the tight corridor. He fights to keep himself upright, just barely able to see the opening in the distance drawing ever closer.

Alas Jehn reaches the end of the corridor and out into the much more open area, finally able to breathe as the people spread out and he’s not knocked into as frequently albeit some do run straight into him every few seconds. While he still has more space, he isn’t allowed to rest, as he follows the herd down to the end of the monolithic facility where the lobby neighboring the gray door is.

Even from afar Jehn can see that by the lobby barricades are being deployed as blue lights project from distant guards, summoning small generators that produce energy shields of half walls to let them kneel behind. Some soldiers even carry the crates that previously were being processed, placing them down and using them as physical cover while men shouted everywhere, their words incomprehensible.

Running straight forwards in tunnel vision, Jehn accidentally knocks into someone to which he instantly stops and apologizes, but is astonished to find that it’s indeed Armon standing still with a horrified face, murmuring to himself: “What is going on…?”

“ARMON, YOU WITH ME?” shouts Jehn, to which Armon glances at him and nods, opening his mouth to respond only to be interrupted by both Sahla and Connor who jump them from the side, Connor specifically exclaiming: “THOUGHT WE LOST YOU CRITTERS! COME ON GUYS, A SQUAD STAYS TOGETHER, REMEMBER?”

“THEY WANT MORE MEN FURTHER BACK, THEY’RE COVERING THE DOOR PRETTY WELL SO NOW I GUESS WE’RE SUPPOSED TO BE THE BACKUP! SORTA SUCKS THAT THEY’RE TAKING ALL THE CRATES AND THIS AREA IS KINDA OPEN, BUT I THINK I GOT SOME SHIELDS ON ME SO THAT SHOULD DO IT!” yells Sahla, trying to reach above the sirens.

“THE DOOR? THAT’S BASICALLY IMPENETRABLE, THERE’S NO WAY TO BRING IT DOWN, AT LEAST NOT WITHOUT BRINGING THE ENTIRE STATION DOWN WITH IT TOO!” hollers Jehn, clearly still not following the events unfolding all around him.

“WELL I THOUGHT SO ABOUT THE REST OF THE BASE, BUT WORD HAS IT THAT WHATEVER IS OUT THERE HAS ALREADY GOTTEN THROUGH THE SHIELDS AND IS COMPLETELY DEMOLISHING THE SECURITY OUTSIDE!” cries out Connor, everyone screaming on top of their lungs just to be barely heard.

That fact silences Jehn, his face falling into a mixture of puzzlement and dread, although he’s given little time to think before Connor yells, “COME ON WE GOTTA MOVE, STAY WITH US,” to which Jehn snaps out of his trance and runs with his roommates as he makes his way down the facility, still in the direction of the main door. However, he comes to a stop well before reaching the lobby, and instead to an area that has already become piled with crates from guards hastily moving them on the floor and stacking them for cover.

Connor instinctively runs over to a pair of guards who are struggling to hoist a crate up high enough to stack it, and he picks it up from the center to lift it higher up. Aiding the pair, he slowly guides them to one of the crates on the ground and carefully places the box on top of it as concurrently Sahla steps beside the cover and closes his free left hand, staring at the ground right beside the packages. Before he can take any action however, a familiar voice exclaims, “WAIT WAIT! CONSERVE YOUR SHIELDS! THAT’S THE WHOLE POINT OF THIS!” which catches Sahla’s attention, causing him to face the speaker only to find it to be Frezen, helping to move the crates around.

Sahla nods his head and understands, “MY BAD, GOT IT! THANKS!” before then kneeling down behind the crates as Connor finishes helping the pair and joins up with Sahla and Jehn who also kneels down. The three huddle up together where Jehn releases a heavy breath and turns to Sahla whom he notes to, “I don’t think this is a drill anymore…,” to which Sahla airly chuckles and shakes his head. However, not responding to the joke is Connor who instead appears disturbingly dreadful, his jaw hanging before he then asks quietly, “Wait…where is Armon?”

Instantly Jehn’s eyes widen and he thrusts himself upright, standing straight and spinning–desperately gazing for that hay in a haystack–, all of the guards appearing nearly the same with their identical uniforms and most backs turned to him.

It doesn’t take too long however for Jehn’s sights to fixate specifically towards the main door, and specifically to a guard who oddly creeps in a very slow amble, his arms low as if possessed. While most of the body is like any other, the blonde hair down to the shoulder is distinctly recognizable as that of the missing squadmate.

Eyes wide in terror, Jehn begins to sprint forth as he shouts, “WAIT, ARMONN!!” only for an arm to stretch out in front of his chest and suspend him back, preventing him from running. Frantic with heavy breaths, Jehn glances over to the one holding him back to find it being Frezen, who desperately and deliberately obstructs Jehn before mentioning, “THEY WANT YOU GUYS HERE!”

Frantically Jehn shakes his head before explaining, “MY SQUADMATE, ARMON, HE’S OVER THERE! HE’S SUPPOSED TO BE WITH US, I NEED TO GET HIM BACK HERE! I DON’T KNOW WHAT HE’S DOING BUT I NEED TO GET HIM!”

Shaking his head back, Frezen instead advises, “YOU GOTTA LEAVE HIM JEHN, WE NEED EVERYONE FOCUSED! HE’LL BE ALRIGHT!”

Quivering visibly and clenching his teeth, Jehn shakes his head before shouting, “SHIT!” before finally obliging, kneeling down behind the cover as Frezen continues to help the effort in moving the crates to position.

While he does remain in position as told to, Jehn’s gaze can’t help but linger specifically on the one stranded squadmate, as all the way down the floor stands him with his arms by his side amidst the chaos, yet completely untouched like a ghost. He just stares ahead at the door in silence while others run around him, although one of the uniformed men who seems to be in his sixties or higher visibly approaches him with an agitated stance, storming his way up to the unfazed squadmate. The man stops beside Armon and glares at him for a few seconds, and upon finding no reaction, he finally opens his mouth.

“WHAT ON THE HUNDRED EARTHS DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING??” vociferates the man, which finally extinguishes Armon’s trance, causing him to blink twice and glance at him with a puzzled face.

“Ah wait, where’s Jeh-” attempts to inquire Armon, clearly disoriented, only to be grabbed by the arm from the man who begins dragging him forwards while exclaiming, “GET SOME COVER, YOU THINK THE ENEMY IS GOING TO BE PATIENT FOR YOU??”

Helplessly Jehn watches Armon get dragged to the lobby of the facility, being relocated to be behind another stack of crates although now dangerously close to the entrance. He’s clearly disoriented by the tilts of his head, just staring at the bellowing man until he finally nods his head to which the man storms off, leaving Armon to sigh and turn to the crates where he finds a set of other uniformed guards whom he kneels beside, designated away from his squad with no other option.

Agitated and anxious, Jehn hyperventilates while staring at his stranded friend, knowing there’s nothing he can do now but hope they reunite soon.

Behind the crates amongst fellow guards yet not of his assigned squad, Armon sighs knowing how major his mistake was, one he could no longer amend. He shakes his head, to which behind him one of the other guards assures, “Hey, don’t worry, we got this. I don’t know who’s suicidal enough to try breaking in here, but we’re not letting them in any further. I overheard some officers even try to get us reinforcements from nearby stations, no man stands a chance against that hell!”

The assurance does slightly help as Armon gulps down and nods his head, reflecting albeit in a discernibly apprehensive tone still, “Yeah…hopefully….” He then glances past the crates he hides behind, gazing at the door as the sirens are finally suspended, and the flashing lights stop and return to white: allowing full focus of the situation.

Past the center of the floor where the elevator is and where the stationed pods among the few remaining crates are, past the many groupings of armed guards whom all face a singular direction, whom prime themselves for a singular target, whom remain protected behind the cover of crate heaps that veil their bodies, whom stand and kneel in tiers and layers backup behind backup behind backup, whom cover every angle from above the lobby, whom stand guard right at the lobby waiting in silence, stands the huge gray metal door emphasized against the white walls, untouched.

There is total, absolute, unbothered, sole silence that consumes the whole of the floor, for not a single guard speaks, for not a single step is made, not a single movement abrupt enough to make a sound is executed. No, it is pure silence, pure cold, lifeless, silence. Fog of sound. Blind of ears. Absence.

Without even the sight of a threat, Jehn instinctively raises his left arm which leads his weapon, and just ever so slightly raises his body up. He only rises just enough to position his arm by the peak of the cover to let the black ballpoint of the weapon get sight of the door, and for him to just barely peer at it too from behind.

Both Connor and Sahla silently take position too, Connor joining Jehn above the crates also making the minimal of himself visible, and Sahla remaining kneeling on the floor and tilting to just slightly angle himself around the crates to get an aim on the door and enough vision to eye where he fires.

In the lobby, Armon takes in a deep yet silent breath and holds it in as though dropping into a cold bottomless sea.

Cautiously with every movement precalculated before executing, Armon raises himself just enough for his eyes to sit above the top crates before him, peering straight at the door. He then next brings his weapon up too, which covers his right eye with the ballpoint.

He is not the only one to take preemptive aim either, for all around him guards start to move themselves into a position of opportunity rather than pure concealment, just letting slivers of themselves be seen, just enough to eye the door at the head, and just enough to get a shot at anything that could move from said door. From those closest to the door to those towards the back of the lobby such as Armon to those right past the border above the ramps to those only slightly further back, more and more guards prime their weapons and sights for defense, all to target that one door.

That single door that stands at the front, silently, without breeze, without motion, for without the distinctive color it would theoretically just blend into the wall. It was so still it was if it was not there at all. As if there was nothing there at all. Just another wall.

With no visible opponent. With no visible enemy. With no visible threat.

With nothing but that one metal gray door standing still, there was no change, no difference, nothing but the sudden flash of red.

A whoosh.

A squish.

A spill.

Still as a human can be, Armon stands his ground, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike, his eyes trained at the door as is his weapon. And yet, just the slightest intuition, the slightest breeze, the slightest cold, the slightest motion slowly deviates his sight from ahead of him to beside him. And as his irises move as far to the side as they can, that is when the scene presents itself, the scene of the guard who was accompanying him and who had assured him prior, who had also stood up alongside him, who just barely had his head raised above the cover, who now had that very head caved in by the dark blade of a vikings axe.

And finally, Armon slowly pulls his attention away from the door, and to the guard as he collapses to the floor with a thud.

And then another red flash. And then another whoosh. Another squish. Another spill. And another sight Armon glances to this time right in front of him through his expanding eyes.

Further up the lobby, another guard stands still with an axe in his skull before his legs give out and he collapses on the ground, causing the two guards beside him to notice and gaze down at him, still standing upright. Yet right before they could even fully interpret what they just saw, both of their heads are struck by another pair of axes, and down their bodies go.

Immediately instinctively Armon ducks down, and the precise instant his body gets to descend, his eyes capture the image of the sharp dark crimson blade hurtling straight for him like a bullet.

In the very first instant of the duck, Armon stares petrified as the blade of the axe that nearly took off his head just barely grazes his forehead, so much that he could nearly feel the cool metal on his skin.

His life nearly gone before his eyes, Armon successfully drops to the ground alive, just to find that exact axe that had come for him instead plunge itself into one of the crates of the pile right behind the lobby, which other guards by the back of the lobby take notice to.

Immediately Armon pivots and glances back at the door yet now from the side rather than above, and yet still again the door is closed, and yet still again there was nobody there.

He hides back behind the pile before then glancing to his other side, only to be face to face a few feet from the open head of his ally, with gray matter of his exposed brain dotted on the floor, submerged by the growing crimson pool flooding out of his body. He didn’t even know how to react, he couldn’t react, what was he reacting to? None of this made sense. He had just witnessed four murders, and there was no killer.

He then again pivots towards the edge of the pile to get another glance at the door, waiting as are all the other guards, silent as they don’t know how to react either. But it is then at that moment that he sees it.

That red flash. That red flame. The crimson flame. And from that crimson flame: the axe.

Instantly Armon returns back behind cover as the viking axe soars straight into another crate, and with another deep breath, Armon bellows: “THEY’RE ATTACKING FROM BEHIND THE WALL!”

Suddenly, three red flashes appear through the wall, and that becomes three axes which fly straight into the lobby, two of them striking the heads of other guards with one stray that hits the floor.

Immediately all of the other guards cower behind the cover, realizing that the enemy was one they couldn’t perceive, one they couldn’t retaliate against. There was nothing to aim at, and all they could do now was survive this horrible spot they were positioned in.

From the door emerges another red flame which births another projectile which fires down at the lobby and strikes the floor by one of the groups of guards, although it is shaped more as a spear than an axe.

Down behind the crates, one of the guards turns to his side upon finding the spear right beside him, not even a full foot away. He stares at it, petrified, and he watches as a small red light along the metal tip flashes, and he hears as the tip beeps once.

The very next instant, he and the other guards behind the cover are instantly engulfed in an orange flame of an explosion, their bodies consumed in a blaze, and in that explosion is a roar of war, one made by an invisible enemy.

After that one loud sound, the entire facility immediately went into an uproar of screams and shouts, the entire security force pushed to the point of forced reaction even if they couldn’t process exactly what was transpiring.

Again and again, red flames emerge out of the hard solid gray door before morphing and contorting into various shapes, a volley of arrows with flaring red tips, and every single one of those arrows upon impact with the ground or with a crate erupt and consume what it can, for no longer was cover of service.

At the back yet still able to hear the horrified screams now completely clear with no more sirens to drown them out, Jehn watches eyes widened in horror to the supernatural, his heart dropped.

Quickly, guards begin to abandon their cover in an attempt to sprint away from the lobby, but many of them are struck by arrows, and thus when they reach another few feet back past the next cover, the explosions consume even more victims.

Witnessing the sudden retreat, Armon takes the opportunity to get up and sprint away from the lobby, panting heavily as his life depended solely on his speed. He runs as behind him more guards are shot by the arrows, some through the skull, others in the back, and some simply caught in the fire.

Yet just luckily Armon gets to the top of the ramp where he then drops behind a pile of cover by the edge, breathing heavily and turning to find none other than the old officer that had reprimanded him prior.

Without even thinking, Armon exclaims desperately, “SIR, WE NEED TO OPEN THE DOORS!”

Entirely perplexed and rightfully so, the officer turns to Armon with a raised eyebrow, and he shouts back, “WHAT? ARE YOU INSANE??”

Knowing what he knew in that one moment, Armon shakes his head before explaining, “SIR, THE ENEMY’S ATTACKS ARE GOING THROUGH THE DOOR! THEY ARE RIGHT BEHIND THE DOOR, I KNOW IT! BUT THE DOOR, IT’S NOT PROTECTING US, SIR! THE DOOR IS PROTECTING THEM!!”

Right after Armon finishes speaking, another set of explosions ignite right behind them, more officers screaming in agony either caught by the explosions or witnessing its effects right in front of them. Through the gray door an entire barrage of red flashes appear before then propelling another volley of explosive arrows, devouring the lobby and those in it mercilessly, the attacker completely invisible and invulnerable behind the gate.

Tsking at the cruel irony of the situation, the aged officer lowers his head with clear agitation in knowing now the truth but the pain of acting on said truth. He shakes his head and argues, “No…it’s…it’s not an army…it’s not a group…it’s…it’s him….”

Now the one to be confused, Armon turns to the officer before tilting his head puzzled and asking, “Him?” before immediately silencing in the delayed revelation, and his face too falling into a deep, deep dread.

Shaking his head again before stabilizing, the officer just stares straight forward with dreary eyes as he realizes, “It’s the devil….”

Suddenly a guard drops straight beside the two of them, bringing their attention to find a young man in uniform crawling forward desperately with his arms, for his entire body below the torso is no longer, instead leaving a trail of blood and guts as he squeals, “I CAN’T SEE IT! I CAN’T SEE IT! I CAN’T SEE IT!!” before he finally stops, his last breath drawn and his head lowered to the floor.

The old officer turns his head away from the fresh corpse, mortified, and now ventilating he shakes his head and reasons, “No no…but the door…the door is all that’s holding him back…it might be our only way of keeping him out here…. Without the door…what are we supposed to do against…oh no…why is he here ....”

“SIR, WITH ALL DUE RESPECT, ARE YOU SURE THAT DOOR IS HOLDING HIM BACK?” queries Armon desperately over the booms of explosions right behind cover.

Turning his head back to Armon, the old officer scrunches his eyebrows and asks, “What, what do you mean?”

To that Armon states, “SIR, HE CAN BRING THAT DOOR DOWN WHENEVER HE PLEASES! IT IS IMPENETRABLE TO MOST WEAPONRY THAT CAN BE ACQUIRED BY ROGUE GROUPS OR EVEN MOST MILITARIES, BUT HE CAN CONJURE MORE THAN WE KNOW! THIS DOOR IS HIS SHIELD, AND HE’S JUST USING IT FOR AS LONG AS HE CAN UNTIL HE KNOCKS IT DOWN ANYWAYS! IF WE OPEN THE DOOR, WE AT LEAST GIVE OURSELVES A TARGET! IT’S OUR ONLY CHANCE OF FIGHTING!”

Another flurry of explosions erupt behind them among more screams, fires swarming the lobby in front of the door that flashes red like fireworks.

“Dammit…dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit…” rants the officer, placed in a terrible position with a terrible decision to make. He shuts his eyes tightly, pondering for a few moments, praying for a few moments, as his allies scream and wallow.

At last, the old officer stands up to his feet, exposing him without cover, and he bellows with all his might: “OPEN THE DOOR!!!!!!!”

Suddenly all of the guards turn to that singular officer, all of them with some variant of terror written on their faces, terror and utter confusion to such a bizarre order. They glance at each other, and they glance up at the officer.

Bewildered beyond reality, Jehn blinks twice, and then turns to his roommates before shouting, “IS HE INSANE???”

However, before either of them can respond, the first response is made by the voice of Frezen in a murmur: “I’m sorry….”

Instantly Jehn’s eyes expand, and ditching his own focus of the attack he turns around behind himself to Frezen, who kneels by them with his hand right in front of the green holographic screen of a button, his finger just barely hovering over the trigger.

Distressed and panicking, Jehn pleads “Frezen…wait a second think about this, think about this Freze-,” just as Frezen presses down on the button which follows a singular loud alarming blare coming from the direction of the entrance.

Before even finishing his sentence, Jehn silences and turns around towards the front door they were guarding, and what he finds widens his eyes in bone chilling horror.

Behind the fiery explosions of the lobby, the gray door emits a loud depressurizing hiss as the door gradually begins to rise off the ground, not vanish at once, but rather slowly and mechanically. From the inner walls of the doorframe secrete smoke that quickly floods the lobby as the sound of the heavy metal lifting echoes all the way down the floor.

Right at the border of the lobby and standing, the old officer shuts his eyes tightly, and in a whisper he prays, “May God have mercy on our souls.”

Beside the officer, Armon shifts himself to the very edge of the crate heap, just enough to peek at the entrance.

By the center, Jehn watches in silence as the heavy door continues to rise, opening an enlarging fissure shrouded in smoke.

Before the door, guards –some of whom have arms and legs blown off their bodies– scream and cry before then turning to find the huge door in front of them ascending just before the smoke consumes their bodies in the haze, and suddenly then they silence.

Past Jehn’s shoulder, the entire lobby space is consumed in smoke from the rising door as it alas fully opens up, the hissing concluding. The smoke continues to spread out into the facility, but the more it spreads, the more it thins and thus dissipates.

And through that smoke, a darker figure gradually begins to distinguish from the gray fog, a figure that begins as a dark blob, but gradually morphs into that of a humanoid, a silhouette standing on the other side of the door with a ragged cape that waves beside it. The silhouette stands still as the cape moves, and behind the silhouette are three hovering objects that almost from the distance appear as crates themselves, although such a fact is odd.

Silently the old officer raises his arm up, not speaking a word yet gaining the attention of all behind him, not moving his mouth yet providing a command that all receive, and all follow as they return focus to the door and aim their weapons, the ballpoints all aiming straight for the silhouette. They all wait in silence, some standing, some crouching, some kneeling.

“FIRE!!!!” the officer orders as he lowers his arm to aim at the silhouette, and before a single shot is fired from behind him, his entire face is instantly holed through by a spear.

Slowly Armon glances to his side where the officer stands, silent as through the old man’s face the huge spear is driven with such force that its tip has penetrated entirely through the head and reached the other side where it’s visible albeit soaked in blood and guts.

Despite it being covered, Armon is able to see the single red light flash off the tip.

Silently, Jehn just stares as his mouth starts to open as though prepared to scream, and yet he knew at that very moment that no string of words would be enough.

Standing above the lobby, Armon aims his weapon at the silhouette, and he unleashes a rapid barrage of orange gunfire straight out of the ballpoint, not projecting specifically at the very center but rather at an offset on the sphere’s surface, an offset calibrated and programmed to fire with perfect inhuman aim.

He continuously fires with no end at the enemy for a few seconds before the spear beside him beeps, and finally unleashes its explosion and consumes his body whole.

Immediately next the whole facility erupts into gunfire as every guard with a line of sight unleashes rapid barrages on the silhouette, the constant gunshots louder than the previous sirens and flaring the whole room orange just as much as it was red prior.

Standing by the center, Jehn has no choice but to open fire which he does, but at the same time his eyes well with tears in knowing now the squad would never be able to become whole again.

Orange fireworks flash over the smokey entrance, and that is finally when the silhouette’s body begins to move forward, one step after the other in not a sprint or a charge, but just a casual, relaxed stroll.

All of the remaining guards in the lobby with a weapon fire said weapon at the moving silhouette, some of them already bloodied and bruised, but giving all they had.

Past Jehn’s shoulder, at the center of the gunfire, amidst the smoke that still covers the entry, the black silhouette walks slowly until alas its crimson emerges from the smoke, its glowing streaks pouring down its body, its glaring crimson eyes on the black mask, a black void that consumes anything and everything in its path, an anomaly of the universe.

Beside the devil and just a bit ahead are two tall poles that hover and move, and between the poles is a barely translucent red net that captures all of the orange bolts being fired, leaving the target untouched as it strolls ahead, out of the smoke and leading three strange black boxes made of a metallic material with a distinct wooden texture that hover behind him shaped like coffins.

Below the devil’s marching feet are those unfortunate to have been placed at the front lines, now down on the ground whether cowering in fear or disabled to do so with injured or entirely absent lower halves. One of those guards lays on the floor with both of their knees shattered, yet with all the grit in their depleting strength they raise their weapon straight for the approaching devil, roaring a battle cry as they prime to unload fire just as a huge metallic snake-like device soars straight through their skull, penetrating out of the back of the head. The metallic snake floats, its body scaly with mechanical yet smooth movements, lacking any eyes or even any features yet with a sharp head, one at the forefront of the body that then soars onward as a large burst of flames emerges from the devil’s body, a cloudy inferno that then morphs into a black cloud of a swarm, similar to that of a wasp’s nest.

Onward the swarm races as the metal snake pierces the other nearby guards at the entrance, dancing and swerving to pick off all the front guards while the swarm moves forth from the lobby towards the closest huddles of guards behind crates.

As the screams of the already injured guards at the lobby permeate the facility, guards firing full automatic at the red wall are met by the huge surge which fly straight at them before then immediately swarming, pecking away at their bodies to which they cry in agony as their bodies are so quickly pierced and consumed, almost disintegrating from the rapid speeds such that their blood had no time to spill.

Despite all the oppositional firepower, the devil’s pace remains unchanged, unharmed by any of the frontline guards for they were being ravaged through by the snake, and after the swarm finishes the huddle of guards it then soars onto the next squad.

In a pace almost casual, the devil just continues to march on, leading the three caskets behind the red wall that absorbs all the gunfire.

By the center, Jehn along with Connor and Sahla press fire yet to no avail, desperately trying to break through the shield, but that is until not too far ahead by the left stands up one of the guards aged and wiser, specifically the one who had critiqued Jehn’s poster prior.

He takes a deep breath before then bellowing with all his might, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING? SWITCH TO YOUR A-P MODE! EAT THROUGH HIS DEFENSES!”

Two guards pop out of cover from behind the same crates the speaker stands behind before then firing their own bursts, although their bolts are purple rather than orange.

Still in shock from the chaos of the massacre, Jehn shakes his head as beside him Connor shouts, “Shit, what am I doing??”

Jehn recovers back to his senses, tightening his glare as he waves his hand over the board of his firearm to which a single hum resonates from the device. He then raises his arm higher to let himself get a cleaner line of sight before then resuming fire, but now with purple flashes.

Passing the lobby, the devil continues his march as the resistive fire recolors from orange to purple, and suddenly the bolts upon striking the shield have a strange ripple effect: a reaction. In fact, only a few seconds after the switch, all of the consistent bolts begin to create wider ripples with louder reverberations, as all the sudden now the firepower seems to be having an effect on the seemingly mortal intruder.

Moreso, the entire red wall starts to flicker as the devil continues its stroll, hardly able to maintain itself as the metal snake and the swarm abruptly disintegrates into red flames after completing its task.

“KEEP FIRE! DON’T LET UP!!” reaffirms the voice of the officer as Jehn maintains consistent fire alongside his remaining squad, a spark of hope emerging in their hearts as they can see the visible turn of the tide, weapons strong as cannons, supposedly rendering most other ground firepower obsolete and in such a portable form, finally able to deal some damage.

More rapidly the red wall flickers, the thin sheet protecting the devil from the neverending barrage thinning out every second.

Before Jehn’s eyes, alas the red wall falls, erupting in a wave of red flames that wash forth and evaporate, destroying the devil’s first defenses.

Yet instantly after the relinquishment of the energy wall, an omnidirectional blaze expands out of the devil’s entire body like a globe. The wave spreads to be several feet from the body before freezing in relative position in the shape of a cube although absent of the top and bottom face, manifesting into a transparent box made of a material with an appearance similar to tempered glass, hovering just slightly off of the ground and moving forward, encapsulating both the devil and the three caskets.

Swiftly the devil levitates off the ground to meet the same base altitude of the box, shielding its boots properly behind the walls, no longer marching with its feet but instead gliding smoothly in the air.

All the sudden all of the purple gunfire ceases present effects on the defenses, no longer resulting in ripples but rather they now simply ricochet off of the surface, being thwarted in different directions that causes them to fly chaotically towards: the ceiling, the floor, and even nearly at the guards sending the fire.

Some of the guards are swift enough to duck whilst others are struck, some of them in the body which causes them to suddenly collapse to the ground, one shouting “MY SUIT IS DOWN! MY SUIT IS DOWN!!”

One of the fired bolts bounces off of the glassy wall now once again shielding the intruder, and the purple bolt ricochettes and soars straight in the opposite direction, right into the ballpoint of one of the firearms.

Specifically the firearm of the guard who lowers his arm in puzzlement, Jehn, his eyebrow raises with concern before he inspects the board.

While Connor and Sahla press fire, Jehn ceases oddly and just stares at his weapon before he turns to his squadmates and yells, “MY WEAPON’S DEAD! I CAN’T SHOOT!!”

Promptly Connor turns to face Jehn, maintaining his fire but with a bewildered expression, shouting back: “WHAT???” over all the deafening gunfire around them as their bodies the same as the crates reflects the sudden bright red flash ahead of them.

From the devil’s crimson hide surfaces a red stream of flames straight up several feet over its head, and like an umbrella many smaller streams curl and branch outwards. A tree of maintained flames follow over the devil, the blaze flickering and roaring as each of the branches stop several feet short from the top, all of them uniform in size and the cylindrical shape albeit for the conal nose.

By the center that the crimson demon approaches, the commanding officer raises his head up at the umbrella, fear flooding over him as the branches refine shape before finally materializing into a fleet of explosive spears all tilted down and aiming omnidirectionally from the cube origin.

Ceasing fire, the commanding officer stares petrified before he unleashes his final order: “SWITCH TO PHYSICAL, AND RUN!!” just as a bellow of flames interrupts.

At the center, Jehn lowers his weapon, pausing his inspection only for his face to instantly fall to terror, his body locking the same as Connor who also stops firing as Sahla begins shouting, first forward and then turning towards his squadmates.

Sahla then abandons his post, lowering his weapon and stopping his gunfire to run straight between Jehn and Connor.

In between Jehn and Connor’s frozen bodies, Sahla faces the opposite direction away from the tree of what are now dark silver spears, all of their tips facing different directions, only suspended by the will of the one who approaches from right below, moving in towards the center still on pace.

Sahla grabs Jehn’s and Connor’s upper arms, and with all his strength and a roaring cry he thrusts both of them forward as all of the spears are detached and freed to run their course, that course including the commanding officer’s post and many others of the remaining guards, one of them being the center where Sahla and Frezen remain, both of them nearly being struck by one of the spears which like all others erupts into a blazing inferno that consumes their bodies whole.

From white to orangish red turns the facility, blazing viscously as many of the crates also explode in a chain reaction, adding more to the fire that surrounds the approaching devil, same with the screams of agony from the flaming bodies running mindlessly before collapsing.

Bodies torn apart lay on the ground, some of them still alive but only enough to feel the scorching flames crawl up their corpses, others trying desperately to aim their arms at the cube only for them to fall too quickly.

Instantly after the shove, Jehn turns around with wide eyes and whispers, “Sahla?” as Connor glances back with terror before then throwing himself on his feet and grabbing Jehn’s arm, shouting in desperation: “COME ON!!”

He hoists Jehn to his feet before bolting off, now on the run in the opposite direction of the battle. Jehn stumbles on his feet and staggers back before then turning around and following his last comrade speechless, knowing such abandonment was immensely disgraceful, but not having any words of resistance able to form in the burning forest of his mind.

Now the only action being to sprint as fast as they can, Connor and Jehn bolt down the facility as behind them the devil emerges from the flames of where they just had been, taking fire from the remaining yet depleting guards who attack once again with orange bolts.

Some of them glance at the two runaways, one of them even shouting: “WHERE ARE YOU GOING??” but with no response, although none of them choose to try stopping the two as they have a much more present threat right in front of them.

Huge streams of crimson flames arise from the devil, manifesting a barrage of spears, axes, and arrows all of which fire freely at the rest of the opposition, explosions bursting right behind them and limbs being ripped off or blown away with cries.

Yet to not one of those cries do either Jehn or Connor look back, for in shame they continue their run while the cube moves steadily yet swiftly towards them.

Many of the devices manifested from the devil are not so intricately unique, but rather they just become the same usable tools that are deployed for effective strikes, not as particularly fascinating but instead more focused on completing a task swiftly. Swiftly they do, explosions flooding away guards by the second, arrows in such tight bombardments that at least one of them strikes a target in the general vicinity. It was a cold slaughter that required little tactic, little craft, but instead just surplus firepower to take on a facility meant to be untouchable, guarded by the worlds’s finest.

Guards do manage to fire orange bolts at the cube, and while they still do ricochet, they do noticeably make dents in the surfaces, gradually pressing in on the protective bubble despite those who attack being slaughtered before they can make adequate damage.

Corners become dented and craters are visible from the distortion of the clear material, for even with the physical shielding the material doesn’t seem invincible, yet with the rapidly dwindling number of those to fire, the damage just isn’t sufficient.

Thus even with the gradual damages to the cube, slowly chipping away at the surface that while thick was finite in width, the devil maintains a pace that creeps up on the two runaways, its path unchanged still.

Ultimately Connor comes to a stop which promptly halts Jehn, who watches as Connor raises his hand up which summons a green flat holographic screen of a grid menu similar to an elevator’s call buttons right before his hand. His hand drifts around the screen as fellow guards roar and shriek behind them, being devoured in flames, plunged in the head and chests by arrows, or cut up and minced by axes.

Among the slaughter approaches the devil, whom Jehn takes notice of being not too far behind, to which he then turns to Connor and starts poking his shoulder while shouting, “HE’S RIGHT THERE!” as a huge flame crawls out of the devil, taking the form of a large hovering board with the shape of a disk at the head and rectangular in the back. Below the board is an additional device which is a large metallic disk over a foot in diameter with sharp, spiked edges.

The board hovers just above the battered box which then unexpectedly explodes into red flames before instantly being replaced right in the prior’s place by a new clear box in perfect condition thus nullifying any damages to it when Connor finally presses one of the buttons, that being the bottom right one: the final button.

Just then, both Jehn and Connor begin to ascend off the ground, hoisted up by a circular elevation pad that gradually rises up above the battlefield, away from their comrades, and away from the approaching devil. Jehn begins to ventilate heavily, drained and still in shock but beginning to rest whereas Connor glances over to the approaching intruder, noticing a flash of light coming from the strange levitating board.

“JEHN, DUCK!” abruptly cries out Connor before he then suddenly tackles Jehn to the ground just as the metal disk projects forward like a bullet straight for them, just barely missing Jehn as it spins rapidly in flight.

Flat on the ground on his back Jehn falls, held down by the arms of Connor, causing Jehn to breathe even louder in petrification from the sudden attack. In fact, the shock had almost blinded him, at least clouding his mind from his senses for a moment to provide him the slow time to process one event before proceeding to the next.

Finally able to start to crawl onwards, facing forward Jehn stares up at the body of the one who saved him, finding the body of Connor holding him down, yet the body missing its head as the entire head and neck had been razed, instead leaving a bleeding aperture that spurts blood over Jehn’s face.

Instinctively Jehn kicks the corpse off of himself, tossing Connor’s body off of the pad, more than Jehn had meant to which prompts him to quickly throw himself up on his feet and rush over to the other side of the pad where he then falls back on his knee and stares down with a crimson face covered in his last ally.

Down on the red floor below the rising pad lies the beheaded corpse of Connor, laying on its back with its arms laid flat.

Approaching the corpse is the crimson devil in the box, which while is again being dented, is in far better condition and can just as easily be replaced at any given moment as proven. At last it comes to a stop and descends to its feet, relinquishing the cannon and having the box lowered on the ground as scarce orange fire still meets it from behind.

Although not disturbed by the gunfire, the devil instead finds interest in what lies above, raising its head straight up, the crimson lenses on the black mask glaring bright as its jagged cape waves over the three caskets.

It glares up at the last of the squad that has gotten away, yet now its eyes have been set, and so has its target.

Instantly Jehn leaps backwards after the locking of eye contact, tossing himself on his back once more, hyperventilating as he just locked eyes with the beast.

Subsequently the elevator pad rises past the ceiling of the base floor, for whereas there was open space just prior there is now just a narrow tube that surrounds the pad, leaving just enough space for it to move up and down but none other for view.

A claustrophobic space yet the safest there was, Jehn takes one more deep breath before finally thrusting himself on his feet, his breath slowing down now that he was momentarily safe although at a cost too great.

He gazes at his weapon and taps it twice with his right hand, and upon confirming its termination he tightens his fist and watches as it suddenly drops to the ground, no longer supporting itself on him.

Relinquishing his weapon, Jehn shakes his head before he then places his left hand over his shoulder where the epaulet is which triggers a single beep from the epaulet which a few seconds is then followed by another, and after a few more seconds is followed by one more.

Instantly upon the third beep, Jehn begins desperately beseeching, “This is Officer Jehn T. Lenington, currently stationed at Fort Icarus, we are being invaded! I request immediate backup. The invader is known as an Exhuman terrorist logged as ‘Exitium,’ I don’t know why he’s here but we need backup, he’s overrun the base floor of the facility and I don’t know how many guards are remaining!”

More tightly Jehn grips the epaulet before continuing to implore with despair written in his tone, “Please come quickly, I don’t know how much longer I can hold him back, and we can’t let him overtake this facility. My squad was taken by him and my weapon is dysfunctional, all I ask for is immediate reinforcements. Please…do you copy? Hello? Is anyone there? Do you copy?”

Yet strangely, there is no immediate response despite the urgency of the request. Knowing there was little time left in the elevator ride, Jehn can only stand impatiently and anxiously, more tightly gripping the epaulet unsure of how to act, for this request was all the good he could do from now. He begins to breathe more heavily, his calm degrading with the lack of response trapping him in a hollow void of despair, every second being potentially his last. Sweat rushes down his head, his eyes expanding, his mouth unmoved yet rapidly breathing in and out at an irregular pacing.

“We commend you for your services,” simply and callously speaks the voice of an adult man from the epaulet, a response at last, and yet one that ominously disregards the request and one that even more hauntingly sounded like a preemptive eulogy.

Breathing even faster and heavier upon the revelation of the response’s intention, Jehn begins to start hopelessly exhorting, “WAIT, NO, YOU NEED TO SEND REINFORCEMENTS! HE CAN’T TAKE OVER THIS BASE, NOT WITH WHAT IT HOLDS! HE COULD COMPROMISE WORLDS JUST BY KNOCKING DOWN THIS BASE, WE NEED REINFORCEMENTS! HEY?? ARE YOU LISTENING?? YOU CAN’T LEAVE US HERE! YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE US HERE-,” just as the elevator pad comes to a slow halt and emerges out of the tight shaft into an open room, allowing exit from the elevator straight ahead although an exit obstructed by the crimson scaled body of the devil staring right at him with a rich cyan light just right behind.

Frantically Jehn panics with such tenacity over the epaulet that he could crush it while he wails, “WAIT NO NO, PLEASE DON’T HURT ME, I WON’T TRY TO HURT YOU-,” before a red flash of light emits from in front of the devil, it's dark cape waving from the force as the wails are abruptly ceased.

For a few moments the devil just stands in place, staring down at the scene in the elevator, almost analytically. Eventually however it does turn around and walk away from the crimson-covered pad, staining the floors. It keeps on walking, no longer requiring protection for itself nor the three caskets that levitate stationarily right by the elevator.

They do not follow the devil who walks away from the elevator, its entire body absorbing the bright cyan light that seems to come from just ahead and covers the rather wide room which has a lower level below the bridge that the devil walks across, revealing a circular room with segmented rings of tables and chairs similar to a command center, populated by bloodied corpses in once blue uniforms.

Passing down the bridge, the devil walks past a few tables and chairs also on its level albeit on a more thinly framed almost skeletal floor, also occupied by the deceased with bludgeoned heads and torn limbs. Some of the chairs even slowly swivel, decaying momentum from shaky movement.

Reaching the end of the bridge, the devil comes to a stop and stares forth through the window screen wall that encapsulates the entire spherical room and provides a clear view: a background entirely that of the monolithic cyan supersun so close that its bright flames and flares can be seen as it stretches over the entire side of the room. To the side sits a colossal white construct shaped like a telescope yet with the intensity of a cannon that could shoot through a planet, the size of a tower propped up at an angle with a white shell of rings of varying sizes connected by a darker gray underlayer. It faces the enormous supersun, specifically a set of strange huge metal rings in space that form a path to the sun’s surface, rings which seem to pass through a gentle blue field, with two sets visible.

Far in the distance are countless gray towers shaped similarly to nuclear power plants, although they sit far away from the surrounding white ring border around the view, the ring border that also surrounds huge spike-shaped white towers with a black spherical tip each.

There are five of those towers, with the fifth being in the center of the quadrants housing each of the other four, all five of them sitting among a huge field of innumerous other spike-shaped buildings of varying sizes yet far smaller than the mains.

Miniscule compared to the towers are herds of pods too, spaced around the campus in lots: all of them inside the white border that exudes a gentle blue scaly force field dome that protects the campus which neighbors the enormous telescope facing the giant rings that remain between the supersun and the gray rocky surface housing the campus and distant power plants, the surface that of the Moon.