~ PRIIIIING PRIIIING ~ !
The noise digs into Reyn's consciousness, rousing him from his sleep. He instinctively silences the phone alarm under his pillow as his mind fades its way back into waking reality.
He throws his blanket from his body, stretching and twisting himself to release the night's tension. Rolling swiftly out of bed, onto the ground and on all fours, he promptly begins his warm up exercises that have become part of his mornings for the last 3 years.
50 pushups, 50 sit ups and 50 pull-ups. The minimum recommended for Brannon-Brook students. He'd usually try to fit in a short run too if he could.
He finishes his sets and drags his body to the bathroom, sliding into the shower. Toothbrush in one hand, mobile phone in the other. He browses his messages and notifications while multi-tasking his personal hygiene routine.
"Morning buddy! How'd the assessment go? Little update would be nice, ya know. But whatever happened, I know you made mom proud. - Love, Dad."
Reyn smiles.
Reynold Mitchells, his father, was no fan of GAARD nor Reyn's wishes to follow his mother as a Strike Team member. But he respected them. He loved his son dearly and would support him with a deep and sincere fatherly-love at every step. Even if he secretly wished Reyn's resonance level would exclude him from combat.
"Hey Dad, I think it went well. Don't think I can discuss the details yet. I'll keep you updated, promise. Tell Kacey I send lotsa love." Reyn replies.
He scrolls through more messages.
Two from Ghazal. One crudely congratulating him once again for his assessment, and another goading him into pursuing Jocelyn.
A message from Dean Rickardson of Brannon-Brook containing some generic thanks and well wishes to his graduates, and a few from GAARD regarding recruitment details.
Reyn slips out of the shower, drying himself awkwardly as he continues scrolling through news articles and interest boards. He wipes the steam from the main bathroom mirror to prune errant hairs from his face, taking a moment to soak in the reality of his situation.
His mind races. What could his resonance level be? Could it really be so high that it can't be calculated? The power, the possibilities. Will he be ripping apart the very fabric of reality? Could his very existence become a threat to humanity? To the universe?
He chuckles to himself, the thought felt more like a naive child's dream than any reality he would find himself in. And besides, he would need a decent ARCH-type first.
"Focus Reyn!" He assures his reflection. "You got this."
His tall body glistens under the fluorescent lights crowning the steamy bathroom, a soldier's physique sculpted by the instructors at Brannon-Brook for optimal performance on the field.
He moves from the bathroom, grabbing his neatly prepared clothes on the way out. He puts on the uniform that GAARD had assigned to the Brannon-Brook graduates, a sleek black chinese-collared two-piece suit lined with chrome-buttons and yellow embroidery. The G.A.A.R.D. logo proudly emblazoned across the wearers' heart.
"Not bad." He snickers to himself.
He finishes his preparations, loading his pockets with the day's accessories and popping one of his favourite energy bars into his mouth as he heads for the door. He checks the time on his phone before he leaves.
"Shit, 6:50!" He shrieks.
A news notification catches his attention.
- INVASION IMMINENT? G.A.A.R.D. warns world governments to immediately strengthen evacuation protocols and Aetheric defense measures in the latest meeting with delegates at the bi-annual I.G.S.I. Conference. -
The news sours his mood.
It's been almost 14 months since the last invasion, a gate opening above a major city could happen at any open moment. Strike Teams would once again be called to action to bring down the enemy defenses and collapse the gate. A city will be left in ruins and humanity will once again have to rebuild its hope in a survivable future.
Reyn brushes aside the thought and rushes out his room and through the dormitory lobby, dodging fellow graduates as he weaves his way out of the building. Outside Ghazal waits impatiently for his friend.
"C'mon man, I've been waiting!"
"Yeah, yeah, let's go." Reyn mumbles between chews of his energy bar.
The two men begin a brisk walk toward the G.A.A.R.D. HQ, the Mediterranean sun showering the morning in its soft, warm light. The green fields and paths that littered the facility all glistened with dew under the light of dawn. The place bustled with activity as the new day began.
"You ready to get fucked bro?"
Reyn stares back at his friend in bewilderment. The Ghazal's catch him off guard.
"You know this shit is gonna HURT, right!"
"Yeah, I know. They prepared us for this. You're not scared are you? The Great Ghazal?"
Ghazal rolled his eyes, but struggled to hide his trepidations.
Reyn too was nervous, but nothing compared to the fears that filled him the day before. The results of the assessment have somewhat filled him with an air of self-assurance.
The 2 men quickly make their way to the main administration building where Agent McCain and most of the other Brannon-Brook graduates would be waiting.
"Morning graduates. I trust you all had a good rest. We'll have a long day ahead of us, let's get started, shall we?"
Agent McCain welcomes the group and leads them into the building and towards the elevator at the back of the lobby.
"Today you'll be getting your ARCH-units installed at The Forge. I'm sure you all heard the rumours and the horror stories. I promise, it's not as bad as they say."
The group moves into the elevator.
"B11, GAIA."
The robot voice descends into the elevator interior and welcomes the agent, affirming her instructions and whisking the group down into the facility's depths.
"The procedure lasts for about 30 minutes." The Agent begins to explain, attempting to alleviate some of the graduates' fears.
"You'll be asked to undress. Alternative clothing will be provided. You'll be led into the augmentation chamber and strapped into a harness in its center. Here's where the not-so-fun part starts. They're gonna use very powerful, very precise lasers to etch an aetherite-infused biomechanical circuit into the subcutaneous layers of your skin."
Members of the group wince, while others try hard to hide their fears.
"It's gonna hurt. It's gonna hurt a lot. But it's the fastest, most accurate way to get it done. You don't wanna know what we had to put up with 10 years ago."
The agent tenses, remembering the slow, painful, manual, surgical processes she was subjected to almost a decade ago.
"The procedure leaves no scars or wounds. But the pain lingers. We have a healer on standby to fix you guys up once the integration is done."
Some sighs of relief emerge from the group, along with a question.
"When do we get to test our ARCH-units, Ms. McCain?"
McCain smiles, appreciating the enthusiasm despite what torment laid ahead for the group.
"It's Agent McCain, Ghazal." She responds with a playingful sneer.
"We scheduled and prepared the ARCH-type Synchronization chamber for tomorrow. Testing should commence shortly after we complete your type synchronizations. But, if I were you, I'd focus on getting through today's procedure first."
The group nods in timid approval.
"Finally!" Ghazal whispers to Reyn.
Reyn smiles back in response. He was ready for it all.
The elevator comes to a halt and the agent slides away again into the darkness, returning shortly after with a box full of eyewear.
"This way graduates."
The scene is different from the day before.
The stark, brightly lit laboratory halls of yesterday is replaced by dark metallic tunnels. No hallways, no dark rooms. Just dank tunnels lined with industrial-looking pipes and valves. Wiring weaving its way along the construction. Grates and grills hiding whirring machinery.
At the end of the tunnel, a large room, and in its center, a tall glass lined structure.
"I know, not very inviting, right." The agent says as she leads the group down the tunnel.
"The Forge is one of our most important and fragile pieces of equipment. Due to the astronomical amounts of electrical, cooling and data processing needed to run the procedures performed here, we've had to make some unplanned adjustments to our infrastructure as you can see. Some of it, not so charming."
They continue through the tunnel, entering the room at its end.
The area is buzzing with overwhelming electrical energy. All manner of wiring and pipes weave a chaotically ordered path across its floors and walls, all culminating at the glass cage at its center.
Above the cage stood a large ominous looking machine that stretched to the ceiling. A gigantic contraption featuring extensive electrical circuitry, machinery, pipeworks and what seemed to be strands and rods of aetherite, weaved into its bizarre structure.
"Welcome to the Forge!"
The voice comes from between the many computers and consoles that lined the area.
Dr. Ravinok pokes out his head from behind a screen before vanishing and materializing again in front of the graduate group.
"Ah, my beauties from Brannon-Brook. Welcome, come come. Sit, please."
The doctor gestures for the group to move deeper into the room, directing them to an audience's section, half-hidden in a dim-light corner.
"You wait here. We will call you. One by one, ok. You come, we dress you and you go into the Forge, ja" The doctor quickly explains, his hands weaving a tale of their own.
"We strap you in, we begin. It's gonna hurt,Brannon-Brook. I apologize to you now, so sorry. But necessary is the pain to forge mighty weapons."
The doctor continues to explain more of the procedure's technical details and the construction of the Forge. Suddenly, in the center of the room, machines and monitors spring to life.
"Ah, she is ready!"
The doctor whisks himself to a computer along the banks of machines and sensors that lined one of the walls, shouting instructions at the multitudes of assistants that ran about the room preparing various equipment for the upcoming procedures.
"Yes, this one. Paolo! Come! Come, Mr. Santos, you are our first victim for today, ja."
A quiet man with a soft temperament, the Brazilian 20 year old Paolo Peirera reluctantly left his seat.
"Yes, sir!" He proclaims as he moves, the apprehension in his voice was unhidden.
The lone graduate is made to follow a group of lab assistants who quickly whisk him away to a dark, cordoned off corner of the room. Paolo emerges shortly afterwards, naked except for a pair of short black underwear.
"Go Paolo! Viva Paolo!" A cheer of encouragement springs from the graduates.
Paolo looks up with a solemn smile as he is marched towards the Forge.
He is quietly led inside, his arms, legs and neck strapped into the crucifix-like contraption in the center, his eyes bound and mouth filled with a black biting-block. The assistants check over all his restraints a final time before exiting the chamber.
"Right, we begin. BRACE YOURSELF, MY BOY! GAIA, start the procedure!"
"Affirmative."
Almost immediately the sinister contraption above the room springs into action, clanking and clunking, sparks of electricity shattered into fluttering embers around the machine. Burst of steam and plasma sputtering out from hidden vents.
Inside the Forge, a grid of shimmering wires slowly descend from its ceiling, surrounding the entire chamber, its lone inhabitant barely visible behind the weaving mesh.
A deep, rumbling hum starts to emanate from the devices in the room, growing in strength and oppressiveness as it finally reaches a nearly thunderous crescendo.
~ VWOOOOOOM ~ !
The electrical pulse comes bursting down through every wire and apparatus connected to the Forge, enough energy to power a small city. The inside of the Forge seems to light up like a star on the verge of going nova, the shimmer of aether in the air is unmistakable.
"GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA."
The scream startles the group of graduates to the edge of their seats. Ghazal bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, while others grip tightly whatever their hands can reach.
~ VWOOOOOOM ~ !
The pulse comes again, just as potent as before.
"HNGGNHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHNN."
Paolo's screams repeat, more powerful and painful.
The procedure continues regardless.
Every few seconds, a massive pulse of electricity moves through the room, followed shortly by another scream that would echo through the chamber, reverberating through the minds of the graduates. Shaking loose all confidence and bravery they've prepared for the day.
30 minutes later, Paolo's procedure ends.
2 assistants enter the chamber and emerge helping Paolo as he tries in vain to walk under his own strength.
The fresh aetheric-circuits of his ARCH integration can be seen poking out from under his skin. The glimmer of the aetherite shone through faintly.
The intricate circuits wormed its way all across the back of his arms and legs, crawling up his spine. Its aetheric tendrils finally culminating in the hexagonal semimetal input unit attached to his nape. The port of his ARCH-unit stood empty, awaiting the specialized aetherite power-core that would soon power the skills and abilities he would wield.
The group watches optimistically as Paolo is quickly led to an adjacent room, and as he slips into the darkness of the Black-Light, he uses all his remaining strength to twist his head back towards the group, beam a wide smile and lift his fist in triumph.
"Reject the Impossible!"
Paolo's roar of triumph echoes through the hall.
"Victory or Death!" The graduates howl in unison as they burst out in rapturous applause.
"Ha! The product of Brannon-Brook." The doctor whispers as he smiles to himself.
"Excellent! Great job Mr. Pereira. You see, Brannon-Brook, nothing to worry about."
The lab assistants crowd around the central chamber, tweaking and twisting all manner of devices. Calibrating machines and checking diagnostic outputs.
10 minutes later, the chamber has been purged of all remnants of aether, and the entire process reset, ready for its next victim.
"Prakesh! Brianna Prakesh. Come, you are next." The doctor yells.
"Yes, sir!"
South African-born, 19 year-old, Brianna lifts from her seat and marches off, ready to start her procedure. Her jet black hair flowing elegantly with each confident step. As she moved across the room, a familiar face appeared from a Black-Light room.
"Paolo! Paolo's back!"
Paolo walks back to the group, re-dressed and sporting a new aura of confidence. His stride filled with certainty and accomplishment. He takes a seat at the front of the group, clearly meaning to show off his latest acquisitions.
Beneath his coat collar, his ARCH-unit seemed to shine brightly to the rest of the group. Even though it was completely unpowered, its presence seemed to glow with unlimited potential.
The group oohs and aahs, some struggling to resist the urge to reach out and touch the amazing piece of technology. Their excitement seems to grow to a fever.
The morning continues with each graduate being subjected to the painful procedure in turn.
Screams would fill the halls of floor B11, followed quickly by rhapsodies of applause and celebrations of success.
"Victory or Death!"
The phrase would be uttered proudly by all after each procedure. Even Doctor Ravinok could not help but be captured by the graduates' comradery and spirit.
A day the graduates feared would be marred in pain and torment, became a celebration of their resilience.
As morning gave way to afternoon, Reyn's turn finally came to pass.
"Next, we have Mitchells' boy." The doctor says, staring intently at Reyn as he rised from his seat.
"What you have in store for us today, ha? Please no funny business. The Forge, she is very fragile."
Reyn lets off a half-chuckle as he makes his way to get dressed for the procedure.
His mind, always flooded with thoughts and possibilities, fear and worries, was now calm and confident. He was ready for whatever lay ahead.
Or that's what he thought.
As he passes the doctor, they share a silent nod.
Reyn looks back at his graduation group one last time before stepping into the chamber.
Ghazal could clearly be seen wildly waving his arms at the back of the group. 2 thumbs held high.
Reyn moves into the test chamber and is quickly strapped in place by the waiting attendants. The bitter sterilization on the biting-block burns his tongue as he is forced to bite down.
The cold air in the chamber seemed to suck the goosebumps out of his skin. The situation grows claustrophobic and Reyn's anxieties start to come flooding back like an angry outpour.
"Breath. Four in. Four out."
He assures himself.
He relaxes his body. Bracing himself as best he could. Trying desperately to wipe the doubts from his mind.
"GAIA. Start the procedure!"
The command rings out and GAIA affirmed.
The machines in the room spring to life once more, building up their power until it would come crashing through the system. Billions of volts of power feeding into the laser array lining the chamber.
The brilliant cascade of lights immerse him as hundreds of powerful rays bombard his body with light and aether.
The pain is almost unbearable. His mind races to make sense of the sensations, trying to find a solution, an escape. He tries to scream, but it is too late.
He is no longer conscious. His body is already lost to him, vanishing in the waves of agony that overwhelm him with each nanosecond he is subjected to the barrage of light.
A thought captures his mind.
"Four in. Four out."
He breathes.
In an instant, the pain vanishes, his body feels weightless, and all the universe seems to have evaporated around him, replaced by a deafening silence.
"Is it over?" He wonders to himself, opening his eyes with hesitation.
His vision finds an empty void, a nothingness surrounding him in every direction.
"Am I in Black-Light room? Did I pass out?" he wonders aloud.
Before the thought could finish, an invisible splash of water seemed to hit him.
"What the hell!" He yells out.
Another splash hits him from the darkness.
"Hey, what the fuck is this!?"
Another splash.
Reyn grows frustrated, he tries to wipe the moisture from his face.
He lifts his hand to eyes only to quickly realise he had no hand. He had no eyes. Nor a body. Nothing.
He was just him, an untethered consciousness floating in an endless void.
The thought hit him again like a bucket of water.
"What the hell is this? Am I dead? Did that fucking machine kill me? What the hell's happening here?"
His thoughts start flowing freely, feeding off the possibilities swirling in his mind, each one bringing with it the same splashing sensation.
And before he knew it, he felt as if he was drowning.
The torrents pull him, his every thought growing heavier, becoming anchor to his psyche. Dragging him to the depths of a psychological vortex.
A maelstrom of possibilities holds him firm, stuck in an oblivion of his own subconscious.
The ocean of thoughts that hold all his deepest fears and desires sat above him, the pressure of infinite possibilities slowly crushing him against the walls of his subconscious.
Reyn falls into a mental limbo.
His mind is overwhelmed. He screams and cries and begs. Every emotion, every feeling, all washes over him in unison in a never-ending cascade of his cycling thoughts.
Until finally, one thought somehow hooks into his mind, finding root in the deepest parts of his memories.
"Reject the Impossible!"
His mother's words whisper to him and he hears them clearly.
"Victory or Death." He replies.
It was the only thing he could focus on.
He repeats the phrase in his mind over and over. Screaming it as loud as he could until the thought becomes a flaming fixation that lights his way. An obsession blocking out everything else.
Over time, the swirling maelstrom calms, its vortex easing to gentle eddies and a path to salvation opens to Reyn, beyond it, he sees a shimmering light.
Using every fibre of willpower that he can muster, he pushes towards the light. Unrelenting and his mind fully focused on survival, he keeps pushing.
Suddenly, he feels his body again. Heavy at first, but quickly becoming lighter as his mind lifts itself from the darkness, focused on the light before him, and for what seemed like an eternity he pushes and struggles, eventually bursting forth into a calm, undulating ocean.
An ocean of possibilities housed in his subconscious.
"Four in. Four out." He whispers to himself as he gently floats.
He was finally freed of the drowning sensation that had tormented him for what felt like days.
Above him, The sky shimmers in impossible colors. He squints, trying to focus his eyes on the view above him.
"Aether?" He thinks to himself.
The thought barely finishes before the sky seems to come crashing down upon him.
The shimmer engulfs him, pushing him back down into the ocean of possibilities on which he floats.
He sinks, dropping faster and faster.
As he sinks, the void-like depths of the ocean slowly begin being taken over by the brilliant shimmer of the aether that has begun infecting his subconscious.
Where the ocean seemed to have a bottom before, the aether destroyed all such limits, and blew open the walls of his subconscious.
His mind was now truly lost in the infinite probabilities of the universe, the infinite possibilities and idea that plague the human mind.
He was no longer tethered to the limits of the human psyche.
"VICTORY OR DEATH!"
He finds his focus, finds his direction and begins to move.
His fixation powering him as he struggles against the impossible currents of the aether surge.
"VICTORY OR DEATH!"
It was no longer whether he could, but that he must.
He pushes, his mind digging through the aether, his purpose forged as a sword, cutting through the possibilities.
As he moves, he feels the flow of aether shift around him.
First against him, but it starts changing direction, until eventually, it seems to follow him, pushing him along as he weaves through the aetheric ocean.
Finally, he bursts through its surface, screaming in victorious celebration.
"FUCK YEAH!"
"Whoa, Mr. Mitchells! Relax, you'll hurt yourself, boy."
Dr. Ravinok interjects, rousing Reyn back to his old reality.