The boiler room door opened once more, and the two women came out, closing it shut behind them. They repeated to Xanthion what he had already heard, then left him in the hallway, while they returned to the cafeteria. On their way back, they crossed path with Machine, he was looking for Xanthion, and they indicated to him where the deadly scrapper was. Xanthion looked at the boiler room door, and then decided to peek in. Inside, he saw a standing acolyte breathing fast and looking through the metal bars of the cage at the dead body of the Death mage. Next to him, curled up in a ball on the floor and face red from crying, the other surviving Circle of Thorns fighter. In a second, Xanthion felt sympathy for the injured acolyte, understanding full well what Cabaret and Sun Heat had just done.
“Xan, something you gotta see in the computer room.” Machine broke his train of thoughts, and he closed the door hastily, as he turned around to look into the mechanical eyes.
“Lead on.”
“Took us a while, but me and Sir Langley hacked our way into the hard drive, we found all sorts of goodies.” The mechanical scrapper mimicked human speech and stature so well, that unless you knew that it was a technological product, one forgot it wasn’t human. At first, Xanthion had thought that he was yet, another suit of armour produced by Winter Industries.
“What did you find?” Asked the feral fighter while turning into the side corridor leading to the computer’s room.
“You’ll have to see for yourself and decide.” He simply replied as they entered the room in question.
Leaning down to look over Sir Langley’s shoulder, Xanthion read the directory of files from the screen, opening certain files and searching certain links. At one point his face went from shock to surprise, to outrage. He kept on reading, Sir Langley had let him sit down on the chair so he could go get something to eat. Xanthion, of course, told him to keep his mouth shut about what he knew. Reading on, he shook his head many times, unbelieving the nature of the files.
“Can we make a copy of this?” He asked to Machine, unable to unglue his eyes from the screen.
“Already done.” Replied the scrapper.
“Some high and mighty heads are gonna fall when this comes out, Machine. I am ordering you, and your mainframe, out of the district right now. For safety reasons, you will report back to the F.R.O.N.T.’s headquarters and remain there until I summon you as witness. Is that understood?” Xanthion stood up, and looked directly into Machine’s eyes, awaiting a confirmation.
“I will have to let my brethren know of the danger I am carrying.” He then replied.
“Do that, and danger will come. Keep this to yourself unless it becomes absolutely necessary for you to reveal the information. Now, go.” Machine nodded and left the office, walking towards the boiler room, he vanished through it to head into the sewers. Xanthion was right about one thing, his existence was in danger from the moment he had copied that hard drive, and would be until the time when he would be called in to witness. The ramifications of what they had found was terrible, for the city and for the alliance.
Just before entering the cafeteria, Sun Heat looked around to make sure no one was about, then said to Cabaret:
“I told you to lie, but did you have to make me pass for Pussy Galore back then?”
“Well, telling a half truth is easier than telling a full lie. Besides, if these horny dogs knew that I screwed for a day and a night with two men, all by myself, I don’t think I’d ever hear the end of it.” Replied Cymbaline, looking seriously into Sun Heat’s eyes.
“But…” Muttered Sun Heat, who stopped talking when she saw Sir Langley coming for the cafeteria.
“But nothing, it’s done and said, and you asked for this. Now, shall we go get dressed into fighting gear, or do we stand here all day debating who’s the worst slut of us two?” Cymbaline pushed on the revolving door and entered the cafeteria, followed closely by Sir Langley, and a few seconds later by Sun Heat. Inside the dining hall, everyone was busy trying to separate O-Lan and Shadow-Step, still attempting to kill each other.
Xanthion walked the corridor back to cafeteria slowly, too much was going on, and some of it had to be reported back. But who could he trust now, which one of the high ranking Apocalypse members was trustworthy enough. Turning the corner, he saw the back shape of Sun Heat entering the eating area for the Hunters of Apocalypse, and it dawned on him, that surely of all the heroes he knew, he would be clean and able to help. Flipping open his cell phone, he dialled the number directly, not going through central dispatch. The phone rang four times, then a screaming voice answered, trying to drown the background noise of heavy machinery:
“Yeah?”
“Moon, it’s Xanthion, we found her, she’s well and safe.” He spoke into the phone, hoping that it would go through, even with the noise on the other end.
“Hang on, I can’t hear you, give me a second mom.” Replied the famous controller at the other hand of the line. Xanthion waited patiently, while Moon Psyche distanced himself from al the noise.
“All right mom, what is it?”
“This ain’t your mama, it’s Xanthion. Are you alone, is anyone else listening in on this.”
“I’m alone as can be Xanthion, three hundred meters in the sky, hovering above Kings Row, enjoying the sight of a battle won and the first rays of morning. Did you find her?” That last was filled with worries in the voice, Moon Psyche and Sun Heat had been together for a long time, they needed one another like a married couple.
“Yes, she’s safe and sound and with us.” Replied the scrapper to the controller, not going into the details of what Cabaret had told them about their behaviour in the last two days. Xanthion could believe that Cabaret would be so bold as to pick up a couple of guys and bring them home for tension relief and unadulterated sex, but somehow, Sun Heat didn’t fit into that mould at all. Sun Heat was the total opposite of that, more reserved and quiet, and also very much hooked up on Moon. And Moon was the type of man that had ladies turning heads everywhere he went, although he knew this and enjoyed the attention he received from the female gender, he only had eyes for Sun Heat. Cabaret’s story didn’t register when she told it, but it wasn’t his business to ask why she had lied, or why Sun Heat’s stress level had went up when he had asked them what they were doing in Kings Row.
“Good man, it’s safe enough to…” But Moon was interrupted by Xanthion.
“Moon, shut up, we have to talk and I don’t have a lot of time.”
Mastema Reign had just finished patching up Cavalier, the two of them were standing in the middle of Kings Garments Boulevard. She was tired and drained, after pulling a ten hour shift of fighting and healing, and needed rest or a stiff drink. He was looking into the distance, thoughts lost and wandering, he hadn’t spoken a word since the Ghost Army had run from the battlefield. In his hand was resting the Ghost sword, dark and red, a trophy left behind by the fleeing General responsible for the massacre that took place in Kings Row. The day break had seen the ghosts and spectral demons vanish, chased away by the sun. The acolytes and mages had discarded their robes as they ran, hoping that once they were far enough into the zone, they would be able to blend in and go unnoticed when rescue parties came.
Chromium Man had called in every available hand from all over city, and was now organizing rescue patrols to proceed into the district, in the hopes of finding survivors. Some fighting would occur in isolated places, pockets of resistance by leftover troops was to be expected, and so all the patrols that left were balanced for battle and defence. It was yet to be understood why the Ghost Army fled when they were about to win the day, why Ghost Starr had vanished at the moment of victory, but blessings come in many mysterious ways, and Chromium Man wasn’t one to turn them down. The nightmare that took place here was now over, and for this he was thankful, but he knew deep in his soul, that the scarring left from these events would be felt for years to come.
“Eight thousand fighters from all origins, from all walks of life, have answered the call and came here to oppose this madness. Eight thousand souls that, much like Cavalier, Chromium Man or Control, have stood on the barricade and said to the enemy: “This far and no further.” This morning, amidst the battle fog and the dark smoke of burning buildings, only twenty-five hundred remain alive. At least two thousand are crowding the various hospital corridors of the city, awaiting treatment and care, some in critical condition like Mase Lokrin and Hammerhand. The death toll was massive, frightening and immense. Out of sixty-two thousand civilians present in the district when the madness began, it is estimated that at least twelve thousand were killed, and twice that many were injured. The remaining survivors are, at least this is what the heroic leaders present here today hope, scattered in the district awaiting help.”
“This reporter has seen many a battlefield in his time, many a frightening sight. But never in my lifetime did I think I would see it strike where it hurts the most, at home. For ten hours we stood here and reported the action as it happened, ladies and gentlemen, and I for one, am ready to say that albeit all the horror that has been witnessed, one bright light of hope stood tall and proud. The city of Paragon owes much to the Fellows of Apocalypse and their ally, the F.R.O.N.T., for the sacrifices they made in meeting head on this grave menace to our security and way of life. There is no doubt for this reporter, that they are heroes and deserve our thanks.”
“This is Jack Emmert, reporting live from Kings Row.”
End of part 1