UNTITLED: Book One

DAY 101.75

Before I die

I’ll leave a billion bodies in my wake

Just to lay another brick

Standing over the edge of the floating city watching the people of today’s crowd being ferried back across the ocean to the mainland. The Sun sets behind the island as transports dock and depart, ensuring they get home safe. They didn’t make this place, but they made it home.

Isi-Iyi (ē’see-ē’yee)—the name that was translated from the database found when they first settled into the floating city; it’s the famous island where they made their last stand against the Dark State’s invasion.

The Warden and No.1 watch on.

Even with his opaque sunglasses, always on and hiding his eyes, his face looked barely 40 years old for someone who’s lived for more than 80 years now. He’s also quite tall compared to the average person of the surface, but he’s still shorter than the towering No.1—about a full head shorter. Not nearly as broad as an Old Guard, but certainly broader than the standard physique of the New Wave—the Protectorate. His army…

Both he and No.1 dressed in all black, his long coat flutters behind him like a flag in high winds while her ankle-length, silk black hair does the same. The Warden breaks the silence first.

“Sitrep.”

“We took care of the General of Colony 3. Quick and quiet. Nobody saw us. They can suspect, but they will have no proof. However, it wasn’t the same for Colony 2. The one you sent us after didn’t have high ranking. Not even part of the guard?”

“And? Did you accomplish your task?”

“Yes, absolutely! Of course.” She replies nervously.

“But?”

No.1 starts shifts her stiff stance, fidgeting, in discomfort, with her fingers behind her back.

“But it was, mm, messy. She was a true warrior… Her rank and position did not match her skillset whatsoever so it was just surprising. She was better…” No.1 looks down with a hint of sorrow. “…and more honorable than I expected. She didn’t really seem like the type to spy-”

“-Is that sympathy? I assumed you could handle it, No.1. Was I wrong to have made such an assumption?”

“No. No. Not at all. I handled it. It’s done. I had just gotten back right before we showed up to the memorial today, actually.”

“Very well then. The colonies have been pointing fingers for too long now. Trying to back us into a corner. Stoking their fire is beneficial for us as they continue to make baseless claims. Now, we’ve given them something to stand on. Both sides. I’m sure they’ll create a story to explain it to their people. But their leaders know the truth, and that’s all that matters. Our people’s frustration grows, and judging by today’s reaction, they will be more than willing to cut ties now. The inevitable has been accelerated.”

“And with the speeches we gave at the end-“

“Did you handle that other matter I spoke of? The one of great importance?”

“Not yet, no… I’m sorry. It’s just rather difficult to find something when I don’t know what I’m actually looking for. Perhaps if you were to tell me it would help- ?”

The Warden turns his head to face her. A warning. She silences immediately.

“No.1… During times of war, it is not the job of the Protectorate to ask questions, but instead to be the answer. You must find what you were tasked to find, or I will find someone more capable.”

She knows he purposely called her No.1 to silence her with humility. Remind her of her place. He knows how she loves her real name and how much it hurts that she doesn’t hold on to it, unlike those two…

Their name is the only thing a New Wave typically receives from their birth parents, whoever and wherever they are now. It's the only proof of what could have been. But ever since moving to legitimize this Protectorate, she finds her name being used less and less, by even her peers, replaced by this title that isn’t even hers—yet. But, until it is hers, legitimately, it feels like a slap in in the face.

Mood dropped, she simply responds, “I understand.”

“… It is crucial to us winning, just know that.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll see to it that I get it done, and continue to prove my worth as one of your children—a Child Under the Protector.”

He corrects, “Under the Sun, No.1.”

“Yes, of course. Under the Sun.”

She waits a moment, fidgets with fingers behind her back. Nervous to bring up her burning question. She can take on militia without a weapon or battle skin, trained to do the most dangerous tasks without blinking so much as an eye, and yet she can’t shake her anxiety in this moment. Never around him.

She clears her throat in hopes of breaking the spell, “Ehem. Uhm. I heard what happened at thee.. -uh, -the development center.”

No response. Even if he didn’t wear those glasses all the time, she imagines he’d still be impossible to read. She’s determined though, so she tries again.

“Six attacks since they’ve escaped. In the first five, she killed at least one Old Guard at each facility while leaving everyone else in critical condition. This time they’ve killed everyone. It was only a matter of time before she lost control. She’s bloodthirsty. She’s always been, and she’s always only ever cared about power.”

No response. She pushes further.

“Everyone is furious! The Old Guard all want justice. I know what those two are capable of, but the others can’t believe one of ours could do that to our respected brothers and sisters.”

“This matter doesn’t concern you,” the Warden simply replies.

“But all those bodies! They killed EVERYONE—so many heroes, and dumped their bodies in front a burning development center just to add to the insult! Like they were nothing. They trashed the place using stolen items from their previous raids. Pulse staffs- ! *stop* *sigh of calm* Pulse staffs too. We can’t even properly survey the damage of the facility because they basically cratered the entire area. I feel like this concerns us all. They were all Old Guard, and if they’re hunting Old Guard, or all of us, it’s only a matter of time.”

“What is it you want?”

“The peace between us and them—if you can even call it that now—crumbles just like the alliance. They probably hate us right now! I feel like the only reason they even tolerate us is because they are really just your brothers and sisters that fought by your side. Their undying loyalty is to you. Not us, or even Solaris... Everyone is hurting over this. I’m sure you’re hurting over this too. I’m asking for justice.”

It’s not audible, but she can tell by his body movements that he just scoffed. He follows it with, “Justice. And what does justice look like to you?”

She ignores his condescension like she always does and continues, feeling closer to her own goal now, “Well, I know it was definitely her idea. I couldn’t imagine that… rat coming up with that, but he’ll certainly follow. I’m asking to settle the score and mend this rift. I don’t want us to end up like these colonies. We’re meant to be the strongest, the best! That means our relationships too. I can do this! I can stop them. ‘Too far’, was a long time ago, this goes beyond even that. I’m the only one capable of bringing them in.”

The Warden ponders for a moment, never bothering to look her way, “Based on your history you share with them, I can’t trust that you won’t make this too… personal. Furthermore, you are truly presumptuous. No.1 asks for the task of defeating the two strongest when you’re yet to even complete the important task you’ve already been given. If there is a rat that can beat the so-called No.1, then I have my concerns about trusting you.”

She winces at his insistence on calling her No.1, feeling helpless for a moment. But you made me take that title… I don’t want it. Her new name quickly becoming a euphemism amongst those who know it’s false. It wasn’t long ago that she was called by her real name, for nearly 18 years. Gone so easily.

But who is she kidding? This didnt start just because they eacaped the city on her watch, it started long ago. She was meant to be Solara’s partner, not that rat. My disappointments began back then, and I’ve been working most of her life to make up for it. I won’t waste this chance-

The Warden fully turns awayfrom her now, done with this conversation. He’s about to walk away. She’s about to miss out on her opportunity to prove herself once and for all. Erase all doubt.

Seeing her moment slip, she remembers something she heard on her recent mission, a word. She blurts it out in a desperate last attempt.

“Sollar (Sōl-yar)!”

This suddenly stops him in his tracks. He spins around to her.

She’s taken aback for a second by how fast this stopped him in his tracks. But she recovers and continues, “What is Sollar?”

“Where did you hear this?” He asks well taking a few steps toward her.

It was only for a brief moment, but she’s trained to catch all sorts of emotion in split seconds, and she’s never seen him seem so flustered. Truly bothered. This must be the breakthrough intel she’s been searching for. That, and her big opportunity.

“I discovered it today at Colony 2. The one you sent me to take care of, she mentioned this word. Is it a name? A person?”

“…Did she mention anything else of importance to you?”

“No, nothing.”

The Warden aims his focus entirely on her now. Despite it being impossible to see his eyes through his shades, surely right now he’s looking into her eyes to gauge the truth. Or something. Maybe her worthiness.

“I swear.” She continues, straightening up and sticking her chest out a bit more to inspire confidence. “She just rambled on about a bunch of things. I only mention this name because as she died she repeated that word and also some nonsense, ‘he knows who death is’ and ‘she’s coming’. What is ‘Sollar’? And is this ‘she’? Who’s coming?”

The Warden stares down at the ground, calculating in silence. After some time has passed, he takes a moment to observe his surroundings.

“I thought I had more time,” he quickly mumbles under his breath, barely audible even for her enhanced hearing.

“More time for what? What’s coming?” She asks. This time a different type of anxiety taking the place of the stage fright she gets in his presence.

“Not what, but who. Sollar was an Old Guard. An old legend. The first Old Guard, and certainly the strongest…an old friend one might say.”

“An old friend? Someone so honorable surely would have been mentioned in history?”

“He was a traitor.”

“How so?”

“By withholding important information, for starters. You seem very inquisitive for someone who just lied to me but a moment ago?”

This accusation catches her off guard and sends her into a desperate defense, “I’ve reported so many failed leads, I- I didn’t think it was important enough to disturb you! Just the typical ramblings of someone dying from blood loss. But now I know!”

He studies her for a moment, “So you say..”

She recovers and finally seizes the opportunity. “I can do this. I can. I will bring justice to our fallen, AND with this new lead, complete my other task. I will earn this new name.”

The Warden contemplates for a moment.

“Alive.”

“Pardon?”

“I’m sure you heard me. I want them alive.”

“I don’t understand? Why would we allow such a menace to our people to live?”

“I allow it because we need Solara. She is instrumental, for now, and while I would normally permit you to exterminate that rat imposter that she keeps with her, her obsession with him is disturbing to say the least. I’m sure she would not rest until we all die, or until she does, if we did something to him just yet. Which makes my plans difficult. Thus, alive, for now… Or is that too much for you?”

No.1 clenches her fist and looks away in frustration. That traitor is always favored in this life. Oh, how she wishes she could give Solara what she is owed. But to humiliate those two will have to be enough, for now. Sigh. Release.

“…No. Not at all.”

“Then assemble the rest of The Five and get them. You’re dismissed.”

With that, Warden walks back to the city center.

—

The city in the sky. Someone could spend a lifetime studying this place, only to leave in the end with even more questions than they began with. It is often jokingly referred to by the children as the bowl of wonder due to its shape and those secrets it contains.

On the top of the city, a mall lawn takes up most of the surface’s total area. It’s flat grass striped through its middle like a thick, solid green brush stroke stricken across a perfect circle.

Two roads, line the edges each side of the lengthy lawn and lead into the base via sloped entrances. One road on each side. They were enough for large utility vehicles and transports—on wheels or airborne. And on the side of each of those roads were the two dead zones. Called this because, well, you could die if you stood in those two areas if you were special somehow. A New Wave/Old Guard that could withstand the conditions temporarily, or something else. This is where No.1 and The Warden held their conversation.

But, the top of the city wasn’t exactly safe for anyone that wasn’t New Wave or Old Guard anyway.

Between the high altitude and the functionality of the city, conditions on top of the city, from the temperature to the oxygen levels, were simply unbearable for anyone without the special anatomy of the Old Guard or New Wave. However, the conditions were still a lot for even the Old Guard to handle. Such as, for reasons unknown, how it was only on top where gravity was twice that of everywhere else, including the rest of the city. It’s actually why they had constructed the roadways lining both sides of the mall lawn.

—

The Warden was coming from one of the dead zones, outside of the lawn strip. He was neither Old Guard, nor New Wave, but no one knew the secret behind his resilience to aging or the elements—or anything else for that matter. He was a man of many secrets.

His stroll is undisturbed. Peaceful under the Sun. There was nothing on the lawn; no other inert structures, walking paths—nothing, but a massive Narra tree located in the dead-center of the lawn and top. The second greatest wonder of the city. It’s as tall as a mid-rise building, its trunk was a third as wide as the lawn, and its leaves shaded the entire middle-portion of the mall lawn—even stretching a little into the roads on both sides.

Nobody, not even their best scientists could figure it out. Even after decades of running countless scans and tests on the Narra, no one knew its purpose. Even the Warden, who had the best understanding of everything here, knew little about it. It was unlike any tree they had ever seen before. But perhaps the greatest marvel of them all, or mystery, was what was floating directly above the Narra.

The Eye. The saucer-shaped facility—room(?)—floating twice as high as the tree is tall. It’s also the same diameter as the Narra. It was called the Eye because it could see most of what was happening around the world and all that was happening in the city. It was a watchtower without the tower. A control center managed by one.

There was no known entrance to it. No elevator or physical connection to it, but it was where the Warden was most of the time. And other than him, no one knew how to get in there or even what was in there. A true marvel and mystery this bowl of wonders, Warden admires as he continues down across the lawn. But, all of this was just on the top, only scratching the surface. It was home to the two greatest marvels of the city, but its base contained the only marvel that would matter one day.

The base, the rest of the bowl, was where most of the action took place. It’s where the New Wave lived—some of them. The living quarters, the workspaces, their control center, and much more. The base had three levels and one looking up at the city could see this due to the three levels of reflective, panoramic windows lining around the base of the city likes rings. This was the city in the sky. The worst Factory, for the best-of-the-best.

—

As much as he knew it was important for the people to feel power over their own destiny, he disliked the journey that came with it. Suffering fools. Having to convince the people to fight for their freedom despite them already being aware that the enemy wants them extinct, was one of those journeys he wished he could skip… And now this other news.

Sollar… Hmph. Time truly is running out. She’s coming. Death, is it? Because if Sollar has returned to the picture, it can only mean death will come looking soon, for him. But that is to be expected. Didn’t he expect this? Isn’t that what all this was in preparation for? The Old Guard. The New Wave. The gateway… The sacrifices and tough choices. Yeah… All of it. All of it was, and is worth it. Right?

A rhetorical question. Something he often asks himself to trigger the memories of his journey. The regular reminder of his past, and everything and everyone sacrificed. It kept him focused on the future. It didn’t matter how much he extended his life or youth beyond its natural span. Death was always coming. But, she won’t find him yet, not until everything is ready.

Light reflects, off his glasses, from the multitude of surveillance holos projected throughout the room. He sits on the floor of the small island of black sand in the middle of the room, surrounded by ankle-high water. In the middle of a room that’s too big and too small. A room that gives off the illusion of being without walls—vast and endless black with nothing but the shallow waters, the island, and the holos that are suspended in the air.

The waters have a glow so faint that it is just enough to be seen in the pitch black of the room. The glow also seems to follow your movement throughout the waters. The black sand island, in the middle of those waters, is just wide enough for a few people to stand on. Sometimes only large enough for just the person was using the room.

The holos show the land under the sun: the development centers, Protectorate now roaming the mall strip, and surface people doing their everyday tasks in their cities. But he’s focused on only one screen.

The screen directly in his line of sight shows Solara and Aiye in a bedroom talking to one another. Because they’re inside of a building, they can’t be seen in detail, just the glow of their heat signature.

If only sound was a part of the Eye’s surveillance capabilities. Perhaps the architects of this place felt they had to exercise some boundaries with all this power. But this was good enough.

Solara Solara Solara. A gift from the universe for all his sacrifices. An answer. One of the few that didn’t receive a name from the registrar. When she was finally born, everything changed.

She was the key to improving the genetic enhancements of the other New Wave. The strongest. The fastest. For her fellow beneficiaries, a symbol of great fear if they moved against her, or a symbol of hope for those who moved with her. Either way, strength. They were going to need that strength in wars to come. The entire program is all for her as far as he’s concerned. The sword that could finally cut through their shackles, forged in this very city. Fitting. Forged greatness.

Her life carefully calculated since her eventual birth. Everything accounted for… except that fly always buzzing around her. But, he calculated, allowing that one variable to remain is what kept her rebellion from becoming… focused.

So, she believes this to be ‘revenge’? He smiles to himself as he stands up and waves all of the holos away with one motion of his hand. That’s fine. They all had their purpose. He knows his. He knows hers. She will come. She can have her revenge. I will have her. She will look to fight me only to find herself fighting for us some day.

He travels through a mix of the black sand and the faintly luminescent water, barefoot, as he disappears into the darkness.

Death. She comes. I know. Her anger will grow. She will come and I will wait. Until then, the villain, I will play. I went from being immortal, to being The Warden. We all die someday.

The thunderous drum strikes once…