(OOC; I'm sorry for the wait, but here it is; The full first post of this new RP set up by me, RMA, Tunduli, Tangrow, Toru, and Dinova! I hope it will be an enjoyable and informative read for you all, and I can't wait to see your additions!
On a side note, be sure to refresh before posting, seeing as I have no one set for being the first to post- If your character is male, first come is first serve. It'd be annoying to have plot confusion this early on, although if I remember correctly, there might be an error message displayed for that?
BIC
Gwen closed her eyes and tried to relax.
The warm water covered her entire body, with only her head still out, placed on a small rock outcropping fitted to the back of her head. It was silent around her, although in the distance she could hear the splashing, excited shouting and murmur of the public part of the pool- If you could call it that.
The water of this lake, at the bottom of the Atlantis citadel, was heated by the Earth’s own core and constantly purified by the multi-coloured crystals on the bottom, making it not only completely sterile, but infused with rejuvenating and healing energy.
This part of the lake was walled off, and belonged to the infirmary that treated those with physical wounds from combat, accidents or whatever could cause harm to the human body. The medical properties of the water were astounding, according to Owen. For her, it was mostly just nice to have a warm bath after everything that had happened the last few days.
She hadn’t stopped thinking about it since she had woken up several mornings ago, in an infirmary bed, with barely enough life in her to even speak. From right before she’d passed out earlier- From bloodloss and fatigue- She only remembered being scrunched up against Owen, somewhere in an abandoned, cold apartment on the outskirts of Detroit, his hand firmly pressed against the wound on her abdomen, where a bullet had penetrated, only narrowly missing her vital organs.
The two of them had been lucky. Three others of their team had been killed during the chase through the centre of Detroit, after They had discovered their position amongst the many streetroamers in that city. Owen had somehow managed to carry her all the way to the nearest leyline cave entrance, through said cave, and all the way back to the border of the Atlantis citadel, where he had collapsed. Others in the immediate area had brought them safely over to the infirmary.
According to the nurse, all Owen had required to get back on his feet were a long rest and a good meal. Aside from a couple of bruises and cuts, the chase had left him relatively unharmed. Gwen’s wound, on the other hand, had been a lot more severe. She wouldn’t have survived without the medical attention Owen had given her, back in Detroit.
Only one time before had she lost a teammate. Now she had lost another three, and it hurt every bit as much as the first time. Although she hadn’t exactly been close to the three, she’d spent a considerable amount of time with them and they had gotten along well. Gwen didn’t think she’ d ever get used to it. How could she?
Gwen realized she was slipping into depression again; She’d cried enough these last few days, with Owen at her side to comfort her. It was time to start focusing on the positive things. She was alive, she would heal up completely without even a scar left on her abdomen. She still had the boy who meant more to her than anyone else in this community.
As if on cue, she heard someone wading into the water at the shore behind her- If you could call the smooth rock that made up the edges of the lake a shore- towards her. She would’ve reacted, but she knew that she wasn’t in any danger. Besides, she was pretty sure she knew who it was.
A soft and grainy voice sounded. ‘How are you holding up?’
Gwen opened her eyes and found herself looking into a pair of blue ones, under a short-cropped black head of hair. Owen towered over her even more than he already did anyway; He was half a foot taller than her, not because he was tall per se- More because Gwen was quite short. Owen’s gaze flashed to the wound on her abdomen, in plain sight since she was wearing naught but a bikini, and back to her face. ‘The water’s nice.’ She replied, attempting a smile. ‘Why don’t you join me? You’ve got plenty of scars and bruises yourself.’ Owen smiled back, relieved she was in a good enough mood to joke around. ‘You know I don’t like having my scars dissolved.’ Owen said, sitting down on a larger rock to Gwen’s right.
Gwen sighed. ‘I know, and I think it’s dumb. Why would you choose to keep your scars, when you can get rid of them and make your skin look a lot nicer? Are you keeping them just to impress the ladies?’ She joked. Owen snorted. ‘The wounds still heal up, so it really is just the skin. I just...’ He paused to think. ‘What is the point of being a soldier when, out of combat, you have nothing to prove it with because your skin is smooth as a baby’s again? When I have grandkids, I want to have something I can point at and go ’Hey, kids, see this? I got this while kicking a guy in a trenchcoat in the face.’’ Gwen couldn’t help but laugh.
A short silence lasted between the two. ‘So, how’s the wound?’ Owen inquired, in a more serious tone, his inner nurse shining through. ‘Depends on which one you mean.’ Gwen answered, placing a hand on her belly. ‘This wound is healing up nicely, although it’s still painful. Nowhere near as painful as the one in my mind, though.’ She added. ‘And that one’s healing a lot slower.’
Owen looked down and nodded. ‘I know what you mean. It’s never going to get easier.’ He said. Gwen shrugged. ‘You’re handling it a lot better than I am, it seems.’ She remarked. Owen looked sullen. ‘I don’t know if I am, honestly.’ Before Gwen could ask what he meant, he sat up straight again. ‘Anyway, that’s not really what I came here for. A messenger has asked me to tell you that we’re up for filing our mission report in two days’ time.’
Gwen frowned. ‘It’s barely been a week. How desperate for news are they?’
Owens shrugged. ‘Quite desperate, apparently. Not many missions have been issued the last few months, and those who are are usually reconnaissance, supply gathering, babysaving and stuff like that.’ He said. ‘In a way, it’s a good thing, because it means we’re still keeping them in the dark. Less people are getting killed, more people are getting saved.’
Gwen looked at him. ‘But?’ She asked.
Owen ran his tongue over his teeth. ‘It’s not a war anymore. It’s a Half-War. We don’t know what They are doing in their labs while we hide away here, and if they develop something that could end us, we’re just sitting ducks here.’ He said.
‘Is that what you’re afraid of? That they’ll catch up to us?’ Gwen asked softly. It was a thought she hadn’t considered, or perhaps not dared consider. Owen nodded. ‘I can’t stand the thought of us losing all we’ve built around the globe. And no one even finding out, because all of this remains hidden from the eyes of normal people.’
‘We’re far more powerful than they’ll ever be, Owen. Remember that.’ Gwen said, in an effort to comfort her friend. Owen smiled half-heartedly. ‘I’ll try.’ He took a first step away from Gwen, then turned around again. ‘By the way, have you got any idea what you’re going to be doing once you’re back in your feet?’ He asked.
Gwen nodded as she looked up at him, which was rather uncomfortable because of his position relative to her. ‘I’ve been talking to a friend, who teaches younger children at the school here in Atlantis. She can use my help.’
~~~
Chapter 3; 1. The limitations of transformation.
The boy was hidden under the sheets of his bed, in the large room he shared with fifteen others. Large pods had been crafted into the side of the rocky walls, offering more then enough space for the ten-to-twelve-year-olds who slept here every night. The crystal lamps that provided light during the day- Standard Subterranean Time, which was the standard timezone for all underground locations, and based on GMT- Were now turned off, and it was pitch-black.
A soft glow from the boy’s palm, however, still enabled him to read, although only barely. He couldn’t sleep, and besides, this library book was too interesting to put away. Some of the boys made fun of him for being with his nose in the books all day instead of running around with a ball, and because he was always the first one to answer a question the teacher asked. But he didn’t care; The teachers were proud of him, after all.
Like all other variations of magic utilized by the Vanished, transformation has certain limitations. These are, in minimal description;
1. The Physical Limitation (A human body is able to generate only a certain amount of energy before exhaustion.)
2. The Focus (A more focused individual can call on larger amounts of energy from given sources and control these more efficiently.)
3. Available Energy (A Vanished might have an external power source in the vicinity, such as an electrical outlet or crystal to draw energy from.)
Some of these limitations tend to intertwine, seeing as all three are essential parts of all situations in which a Vanished might decide to use magic. For example, an individual whom has been hurt in battle will not be able to focus as much as he/she would have been able to when physically healthy. Further along the same line, someone who is not focused enough might not be able to properly call on energy from external sources.
One of his roommates muttered something in his sleep. He stopped reading for a split second to see if anything would follow, then continued reading.
There are other (smaller) factors, one of which is creativity. This limitation is not as widely recognized in the field of magical studies, as ‘creativity’ is seen as a subjective construct and ‘uncreative’ magical actions can be just as effective as the ones that have been thought through more. More creativity does, however, allow for more efficient and/or effective solutions when applied to certain situations, such as combat.
~~~
Even though her eyes had been closed and her body unmoving, Gwen had been far from asleep when she heard footsteps at her bedside. She hadn't been able to sleep properly ever since Owen had dragged her all the way to Atlantis. Every night in this hospital bed, just when she thought she had finally found some internal calm, the sounds- Explosions, shots fired, the screaming of pedestrians- and sights- A flaming car toppling through the sky above her, barely missing her head, a teammate toppling to the ground after a bullet shot straight through her chest- flashed through her consciousness. No one could sleep when such things roamed their mind, no matter how tired they were. And she was most definitely tired.
Gwen opened her eyes, because it was useless to pretend to be asleep- Her vital functions would betray her on the crystal-tech screen beside her. Plus, she felt like she could do with a little bit of company, even if it was just a nurse doing a check-up. This made for an even more pleasant surprise to see that the nurse at her side was, in fact, her friend Owen. He smiled like he had been smiling all along, even though she could sense he was not the slightest bit less worried.
'Still can't sleep?' Owen asked. Gwen nodded as he sat down on the side of her bed. She didn't have to look up to him this time, because the upper part of the mattress had been elevated to more or less forty degrees to allow for more comfort. 'Well, you're not the only one.' He remarked with a sigh. Gwen was genuinely surprised to hear this. 'What, even you've been having trouble sleeping? You're kidding, right?'
Owenn raised an eyebrow and grinned. 'What are you talking about? You know me. You could drop me out of an airplane when I'm tired and I'd fall asleep halfway down.' Despite everything, Gwen laughed. Once Owen was asleep, it took, at the very least, some violent shaking to wake him from his dreams. 'The people in this hospital, on the other hand, have been drinking too much coffee. Or they are troubled like you... like us.' Owen continued. 'Even though we're supposed to be stronger of mind, more disciplined and tougher than the surface dwellers, post-traumatic stress is a big issue. I've seen people, grown men, cry their eyeballs out for hours on end. It's...' He pursed his lips. 'Well, you're doing relatively well.' He said, with half a smile.
Owen stood up. 'I shouldn't be keeping you up. You need all the rest you can...' He paused when he felt Gwen's hand clench his wrist. Gwen looked at him drowsily. 'Can you... Can you just stay with me?' She couldn't recall the last time she had felt like this; Like the little girl she had been not too many years ago, alone in the dark and afraid of it. Her father had always stayed with her at night, at her side, gently caressing her cheek or just sitting there, his kind presence like a ward against the shapes she could sometimes make out in the dark.
Gwen sniffled.
Owen's gaze went even softer as he took her palm in both hands and bent down over her. ''Hey. Hey, look at me. Of course I'll stay with you- I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere.' He spoke to her in a hushed, comforting voice. She wanted to recollect herself, thank him, but her crying only got worse. She would never have allowed herself to break down like this if she'd been more stable, but she wasn't stable, just tired- So tired.
He climbed onto the bed and pressed his palms against her cheek and the back of her head. She wrapped her arms around his back in the childish reflex of a comforting parental hug, and he let her, laying down on his side as she had, her covers thrown off. She buried her face in the soft fabric of Owen's t-shirt, and he moved one hand from her cheek to her back so that he could hold her closer. She stayed like that, pressed against him, her tears staining his shirt while he whispered words of comfort.
Gradually, her breathing returned to a somewhat more normal rate, and the tears stopped flowing as uncontrollably. She still kept her head pressed against his torso, her mind zoning on his steady, strong heartbeat and long, deep breaths. There was something oddly calming about the natural rythm, combined with the kind words and his presence in general. Her firm, almost desperate grip on his waist turned into something more like a snuggle as her fatigue took over again, and she dwindled dangerously close to sleep.
She spoke up, her voice muffled and somewhat faltering due to the rawness of her throat. 'I guess I'm not handling it as well as you thought I were.' She said. 'You're doing fine.' Owen assured her. 'Venting is good for you, and this is the best way to do it.' He said. 'I won't leave until I know for sure you're asleep, but there's still some work around here for me to do...' He yawned, and laughed mid-yawn. 'That is, if I don't fall asleep myself.' Gwen smiled, closing her eyes because she couldn't bother keeping them open anymore. There was only one more thing she wanted to say.
'Owen?'
'Hmm?'
'I want to do something fun tomorrow.' Gwen mumbled. 'Get a wheelchair somewhere, and take me to the city. I can't stand this anymore.'
This time it was Owen's turn to smile. 'That's a very healthy attitude.'
Gwen hadn't heard him. The last sniffle made place for the soft breathing of a deep sleep.
~~~
Another nurse found them like that the next morning; Both vast asleep, wrapped in a mutual hug with peaceful looks on their faces. This, and the fact that Gwen was only wearing light underwear under her hospital nightgown, earned them curious looks from patients and nurses alike throughout the hospital, and in Owen's case, a couple of jokes and pats on the back from male colleagues. They let it slide. Gwen felt lighter, happier after having let it it all out, improving her mood and health alike. They went out to the cafetaria for coffee and breakfast together- A short enough distance for Gwen to be able to walk it- And discussed what they would do the rest of the day.
In the end, they decided on a walk along the Outer Circle (The road that followed the longest curve at the widest point of the roughly egg-shaped citadel), with stops at the Shinto shrine in the crystal park and whatever shop or boutique either of them wanted to visit. Later in the evening, they would pick a restaurant for dinner and, if Gwen wasn't too tired at that point, catch a movie after that. It was rather like a date in a lot of ways, although at the same time, it wasn't one. The relationship between her and Owen was hard to explain. It had all the qualities of love, apart from the chemical and the sensual. It was more than friendship, but nonetheless platonic.
Preparing for the trip turned out to be a piece of cake. A foldable wheelchair was easily retrieved from the storage, and after an impartial nurse did a quick reading of her vitals and the wound and judged her plenty capable to withstand the physical stress of a day out, the head nurse waved them off with a smile. Before they knew it, they were outside the large basalt gate of Poseidon Hospital & Clinic. They intiated their day trip along the Outer Circle, checking out boutiques and stands and occasionaly having some light chatter.
'What do the surface news reports say about the Detroit incident?' Gwen informed. Owen was relunctant to address the event again, in fear of another emotional breakdown, but after Gwen assured him she could handle it, he gave in. 'Large scale car crash, involving multiple vehicles. A police chase resulted in the driver of a stolen vehicle losing control of the wheel, damaging several cars in the narrow street and eventually crashing into an abandoned truck that had already been reported to be leaking gasoline and was scheduled to be towed not thirty minutes after the accident happened.' Owen said bitterly. 'It resulted in an explosion and the stolen vehicle flipping over. The driver didn't make it and the explosion killed three high school students whom happened to be passing by. There was security camera footage, witness interviews and everything. I would've believed it if I hadn't been there.'
Gwen sighed. 'Was it Dean who demolished that truck with a firebolt?' She asked, as she ran her finger across a row of necklaces hanging from a sidewalk stand. Masses of people, most of them their age or older, buzzed in the street around them. 'Yeah. And Leeroy was the one who threw that car at our pursuers. I wonder how many he killed with that.' Owen answered. 'Not enough.' Gwen remarked grimly. She shook her head. 'Poor Dean, poor Leeroy. Those two were so tight. Leeroy has always been a fool- I'm surprised he hadn’t gotten himself killed earlier.' She picked a necklace and tried to reach for it, but it was too high up for her to reach from her wheelchair. Instead of bothering Owen to help her, she flicked her hand and a tiny spark appeared in the vibrant golden crystal in the pendant around her neck. The necklace drifted off the rack into her outstretched hand. She draped it over her shoulders, removing her hair from under it at the back of her neck, and checked herself out in the mirror that was fortunately low enough for her to see herself in from the wheelchair.
Gwen had looked better in the past. Even though last night's rest had been much better than that of all the nights before, her face looked worn, and the slight cuts and bruises did little to help either. Her She'd lost some weight from distress and physical exertion, making her look a lot skinnier than a girl her age was supposed to. She tried not to focus on it, reverting her gaze to the necklace. The wood it was made up of had different shades, which, unfortunately, clashed with her pendant. Although the African totem symbol between the patterns of wood was quite pretty, it would've been a waste of money to purchase it.
Fortunately, other stands and shops proved to have better merchandise of all sorts. Even though the appropriate credits for the Detroit mission had not been deposited yet because the mission report had yet to be filed, Gwen had a fair amount of it still in her possession and she decided she wouldn't be spend the day worrying about cash. Her aim was to have an enjoyable day with her friend, and she would do whatever it took to fulfill that.
Owen shared in her excitement over the products offered. There were stands with books of all genres, fancy accessories, Thai and Japanese delicacies. It was more like a busy Chinese marketplace than the shopping avenue it was originally meant to be, because at the time of creation of the Citadels, the Council had not foreseen the Half-War principle. Because of the Half-War, the number of soldiers dwindled down to the lowest number it had ever been in the history of the Vanished as an organized community, while under the act of preservation and pre-emptive or acute rescue, the numbers of the Vanished in total increased and the life expectancy improved drastically.
This heavy burden degraded the ecomony over the years, and in certain periods, there were shortages of food and items. It took large amounts of reorganization, modernisation, reinventarisation and whatever -ion the Council liked to spout in an official message to those they governed to create a more stable economy, one that had held strong for years and was still efficient nowadays, although a lot of it depended on working on the tertiary sector; Those who could not lend themselves as soldiers for missions on the surface- A job that was well-rewarded because of the high mortality rate- had to take on jobs in education, production, supplying, scavenging, trading and selling.
It was hard work, but rewarding. There was a certain sense of unity, of working together for the greater good. In stark contrast with the surface dwellers, there were no viable threats from any terrorist factions and very limited cultural tensions, with the exception of when a person had grown up believing another part of society was despicable or malicious before reclusion into the Underground.
Those who where more open-minded, however, joined the melting pot of cultures the Atlantis citadel in special was known for. Some Citadels, usually those based under a certain region, contained a larger ratio of people from that area whom simply didn't want to get too far away from their old lives. Gwen couldn't blame them. She herself had only vague memories of the place she had ran from when she was ten, together with Owen; Manchester, in the US state of New Hampshire. Some memories had been lost over time, some she had pushed back to where she wouldn't have live through them anymore. She had yet to return to the place. Owen had, a year a ago. According to him, nothing much had changed, and both their families seemed to be happy and faring well. It had been an emotional time for both of them.
Perhaps some day she would return there, just for old time's sake.
By now, they were nearing the entrance of the crystal park, a place Gwen would never grow tired of. It was an enormous hall outside the main space of the Citadel, where crystals of all colours had been altered into the shape of large trees, bushes and even flowers. The park had been sorted into different seasons and climates, with flowers and grass in the spring and summer, winter tundras with tall, snow-covered pines, luminous autumn leaves decorating the forest floor in autumn. Even the dense rainforest hadn't been left out. Because everything consisted of crystal, it remained unmoving, making a trip through the forests like a neon dream where everything but you was frozen in time.
Amidst all this were several monuments, shrines and other builds, including the Shinto shrine Gwen wanted to visit. She didn’t consider herself a religious person, despite being raised Protestant, but there was something about the culture and that place in particular that made her feel more calm. It was an escape from everything, the daily fuzz, dreadful missions. A tranquil place.
The entered the hall, the large silver fountain in front of them catching their gaze as always. The fountain was a beautifully crafted monument, a homage to all the Vanished whom had fallen in missions throughout recorded history. Those who had fallen after the Council had been founded, at which moment registration and identification first became an official issue, had their names inscribed on the plating of the outer rim.
The actual fountain was shaped like a crystal, a pillar with six long protrusions at the bottom, raised up at an angle of forty degrees, like a grotesque but simple lotus. Unlike almost all energy crystals, it was perfectly symmetrical, and if this statue had been a to-scale depiction, it would’ve been a large crystal by many standards; The middle pillar was nearly nine feet tall.
Of course, it wasn’t to scale, as indicated by the small silver figurine on top of the pillar, depicting the patron saint of the Vanished, the Lost Traveler, at the correct relative height. The crystal was the size of a twenty story tall building. It was part of the Lost Traveler’s legend; His personal crystal was the largest and purest one on Earth, inhabited by the essence of Mother Earth herself. His unimaginable power came from that very structure.
Unfortunately, although his existence had been proven, this part of the Lost Wanderer’s story was the least realistically funded. A crystal of this size and power, not matter where it was, would have been sensed and found by now, unless the energy residing in it had been minimized, which would render it useless. It was a dead end, and a disappointment for historians and treasure hunters alike.
Gwen eyed the fountain not without disdain. ‘Do you think their names have been added yet?’ She asked. ‘No, that usually happens after the mission report has been filed.’ Owen’s voice sounded from behind her, as he was the one pushing the wheelchair around. He automatically went for the eastmost path, which led directly to the Shinto shrine. Because of Gwen’s wheelchair, they couldn’t stray from the paved paths, which Gwen found a shame. The small, quiet paths was where you could truly enjoy the neon beauty.
They went past the fountain. ‘Have you decided where you want to go for dinner?’ Gwen asked in an attempt to lighten the mood a bit. ‘I was thinking we could go for the Italian restaurant.’ Owen asnwered, sounding a little bit relieved he wasn’t going to have to be the one breaking the tension. ‘It’s quite a while away- Past the cinema- but I really feel like having a calzone.’
Gwen flicked her hair aside. ‘I don’t mind if it’s a longer distance. You’re the one pushing me around, after all.’ She joked. Owen huffed. ‘Yeah, and it’s making me hungry. So let’s go to the Italian right after we’re done at the shrine.’
~~~
‘I shouldn’t have finished it.’
Gwen leant back in her wheelchair, staring at her empty plate with a mix of disgust and bliss. Out of sheer hunger, she had devoured an entire pizza calzone and she was absolutely bursting. But nonetheless, the food had been great and the company possibly even nicer.
The interior of the Italian restaurant had been ‘authentically decorated’, meaning props like wine bottles, Italian signs, and murals of Mediterranean sights adorned the walls and ceilings. It was a fun place just to be at, and even though the environment was fake, the quality of the meals was very much authentic. Normally, this place was packed, but they’d arrived quite early despite spending a good two hours at the shrine.
‘You’re full already? I’ve still got place for dessert.’ Owen said, grinning and patting his stomach. ‘Not very much, though.’ He added. The noise of people chatting and laughing combined with the candlelight made the atmosphere very enjoyable, Gwen thought. She was quite tired already, especially with her stomach spending so much energy on digesting her food, and a certain gloom was beginning to settle over her mind.
‘Are you still up for that movie?’ Owen inquired after he ordered some tiramisu from the waiter. Gwen shook her head. ‘I’d probably fall asleep halfway through. But we’ll remember it for another time, okay?’ Owen nodded as if he had expected this. ‘Well, since you bought us lunch, I’ll take care of the check.’ He offered kindly.
Gwen wanted to refuse, but it was probably for the better if she let him. Owen was very stubborn in his helpfulness, and besides, today hadn’t been kind on her wallet; The amount of bank notes that the Vanished used for cash had diminished more than she’d foreseen. She could always withdraw more from her bank account if she wanted to, but she was notorious for spending too much if she didn’t keep an eye on her finances.
But had it been worth it? Absolutely. Gwen felt happier and more content then she had in a long time. Tomorrow was a big day, the day where she could continue her everyday life again. With extensive healing, she would be able to walk properly again in a week or two, according to the hospital staff. After that, the Council could technically deploy her whenever they wished, but she knew it’d be a while. The waiting time for a new mission could last for a month these days, if not more.
Owen payed the check and got behind the handles of Gwen’s wheel again. ‘Well, let’s get you safely to your bed. You owe me that movie, though.’ He said in an overly serious tone. Gwen laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t forget.’ She answered.
~~~
There was always something eerie about the interior of Council locations. Where basically all of the building in Atlantis were made of dark grey basalt adorned with a variety of crystals for light, ambience, and because they were difficult to remove from rock. The inside of the Council Hall, however, was almost entirely plated with white minerals such as marble, and lit up brightly using pure white crystals. It gave the place a more sterile look than any hospital Gwen had ever been in.
She knew it was supposed to represent the neutrality of the Vanished as a people when it came to nationality, as well as strengthen the vision of unity and simplicity, and that kind of stuff, but Gwen didn’t know if having government buildings be devoid of culture or decoration of any kind was a good idea. Even the furniture was made with simple black leather, chrome and glass in the monochrome ‘modern’ style you’d find at certain luxurious surface banks, trade centers or restaurants.
Still, the building served its purpose. And one of these purposes were interviews like the ones Owen and Gwen were about to go through. Interviews for mission reports were nothing new, because they were held after each mission once it ended, but this time it would be a lot more intense, for this mission had failed.
Even though she had successfully walked small distances the last few days, Gwen still depended on her wheelchair to get around, preferably with someone to push it. Luckily, the healing sessions and bathing were doing miracles for the wound and the damage done.
In the entrance hall, a Council worker who looked she was barely older than the two of them, had been waiting for them and was now escorting them to one of the interviews them. Earlier this morning she and Owen had conversed for a long time to get their stories straight and matching up, so that there’d be no confusion; The interviews were taken separately to ensure privacy.
For the second time in her life, Gwen was nervous and maybe even a little scared to file her official statements. There was nothing to be scared about- It was the military equivalent of paperwork. But they’d caused chaos, they’d cost lives, and she would have to retell everything down to the last detail. It was... Tough.
They arrived at a small waiting room with a single door on the far end, and eight leather chairs without arms, four on each wall between two glass tables with magazines. The girl who had introduced herself to them as Roxie Kleinn asked Owen if he wanted to go first, to which he nodded in agreement. He was looking more tense and a bit paler than usual, although the latter could have been because of the lighting. Gwen gave his palm a comforting squeeze as he went by her wheelchair, and he turned and smiled. 'I'll see you in a bit, Gwen.' He departed through the grey, windowless door.
Roxie gave a reassuring smile. The contrast between her vanilla blonde hair in a ponytail and her businesslike grey wear was somewhat disconcerting, but Gwen managed a somewhat less heartily smile back. 'Can I get you anything, Gwen?' She offered. 'Some coffee or tea, maybe?' Gwen shook her head; She didn't think she could stomach anything right now. 'No, thanks.' Roxie nodded. 'Alright, then. Once the interviews have been completed, do swing by the service counter so we can work out your finances.' She left with another polite smile. The clicks of her shoes sounded through the hall.
Gwen sighed to herself and grabbed a copy of The Typhon from the glass table. It was a half-newsoriented, half-tabloid magazine that summarized the happenings in Citadels and other underground locations every week, as well as supplying reports on latest trends in the worlds of fashion, culinary and entertainment facilities. It looked like this was the most recent print, so if there was any mention of the failed mission the two had survived, it would've been in this.
Minutes went by. Five, ten. Interviews could last for a while, but Owen was not exactly a man of many words. Gwen had made her way through a good portion of the magazine by now, skimming most of the content- Although she couldn't help but marvel over some of the new clothing styles brought down from the surface- but she had found no mention of the Detroit incident as of yet. There was a possibility, of course, that it had simply escaped their attention, although they were usually quite vigilant when it came to military scoops.
Fifteen. Twenty. Surely they were rounding up by now.
As if on cue, the door opened and Owen stepped out. He didn't look much better than he had before, but maybe a little more relieved. Gwen hastily put the magazine back on the table. 'How'd it go?' She asked, pushing down on the front of her wheels to roll up to him. He scratched the back of his head. 'Pretty much like I'd expected, so it was alright.' He motioned to the open doorway. 'Anyway, you're up. Want me to push you in?' Gwen smiled. 'I think I can manage this much myself, but thanks.' Owen nodded and sat down on one of the chairs.
Gwen rolled herself in over the bump, and headed for the table to her right where two people were seated; One at the opposite side of the table, and one on the side. Notes and files were spread across the table, along with a couple of empty coffee cups. The man at the side of the table had black hair and a scruffy beard, and looked to be in his late twenties. The woman on the other side of the table was probably a couple of years younger, with ginger curls and freckles on her pale skin.
The woman smiled and reached over the table to shake Gwen’s hand. The black-haired man nodded kindly. ‘How are you? My name is Samantha Morelock, and this is Lance Ros.’ Samantha said, motioning at her colleague. Gwen introduced herself with her full name, code and rank- Gwen Phillips, G8E-4A7, First Lieutenant- which Lance penned down on his clipboard, even though it was already in the files. He was today’s notary, it seemed.
'It's good to see you here, Gwen.' Samantha started, in a peaceful and professional tone of voice that she had been trained in to adress a soldier with. 'Let's start with you personally. How has your recovery been going?' As she asked this, she put a battery-powered audio recorder on the table and pressed record. Batteries were high-price goods, because they were a source of electricity; Something the Vanished were not yet able to gather from crystals. Some electricity was farmed from simple thermal power stations, but it was reserved for official institutions so they could keep digital records.
So Gwen started talking. About the origin of the wound, the healing applied immediately by the exhausted Owen, analysation of the wound, further healing and her ongoing but steady recovery. Everything was jotted down rapidly by Lance. From there, they moved onto the mission.
Gwen reminiscended about the preparations for the mission, meeting her teammates, departing to the surface outside of Detroit's center and anonymously joining the mass of streetwalkers, or as the surface dwellers called them, 'homeless'. The Vanished felt more connected to the streetwalkers than any other kind of surface dweller, because every Vanished essentialy started out as a homeless person before they found their way underground, or rather these days, were found. Along with that, pretending to be a homeless teenager rumaging through town granted an excellent opportunity to gain insight and allow surveillance in larger cities.
The purpose of the mission had been to build and maintain connections with the streetwalkers and other surface dwellers who could help the Vanished, be it by observing police and government behaviour, granting supplies, or helping them inbed their influences in the different levels of civiliation (Although mostly the lowest).
But it seemed word had traveled into the wrong ears. The government had their own spies amongst the streetwalkers, and after a period of two weeks of relative safety, several agents had tried to pick them off the moment they crossed over into the center of town. Their initial strategy had, as usual, been to try and take them alive. Nets had been shot down from the top of the roofs when the five soldiers stepped into a back alley, only to be saved by Dean shooting a wave of fire upwards a second before they had gotten pinned down.
From thereon, the chase had started, because they had no chance of winning against the agents with a height disadvantage like that. The agents had followed them onto the streets- In broad daylight- And tried to catch up with them on foot, by motorcycle and by cars. Gwen, as the highest ranking officer and leader, had indicated for her teammates to fight back. Their cover had been blown and the nearest exit to the leycaves was behind their attackers, so their only option was to fight back and get there. But when powerful attacks were thrown at Them, They often crossed the lethality line and brought out the real weaponry. All they could do was take cover and send lightning, firebolts and cars their way whenever the oppurtunity arose.
The first one to die had been Leeroy, who had rushed in and used telekinesis to lift a car and throw it at the agents, leaving himself exposed. That was all They had needed, and a shot clean through his chest had ended his life. Gwen felt herself choking up at this stage, and Samantha paused the interview to give her some time to recover. The blank white interview room, bare of any features apart from the furniture and mirrored glass- There wasn't supposed to be anyone behind there, seeing as military interviews were private, but Gwen couldn't help but occasionally throw nervous glances at it- wasn't a very comforting enviroment, but she spoke up again to continue the story of the battle and the escape.
~~~
Lance finished the last word in his long transcript with a decisive mark of a dot, putting his palm down on the table afterward to rest it. The stacks of files had been rearranged, opened, and closed again and the desk was possibly even more cluttered than it had already been. Even though the interview had officially ended, Samantha told Gwen there were two more questions she would like her to answer. She kept the recorder running. 'First of all, during the previous interview with your colleague Owen, his story seemed to be... Centered around you.' Samantha started, tactfully. ‘Could I get you to describe the exact relationship between the two of you?’
Gwen frowned. ‘I... How is this relevant?’ She asked. Samantha had opened a file on Owen, although Gwen couldn’t make out what the lines read. ‘We’ve had trouble with military agents getting romantically involved in the past, and while this is, as of yet, not covered by law, it has proved to be inefficient and dangerous.’ She explained, looking at Gwen with an unusually intense gaze.
Gwen shook her head. ‘Well, it’s... It’s not like that. To me, Owen is like...’ She tried to think of the right words. Gwen’d never had to explain what went on between her and Owen in a proffesional manner. ‘A best friend, a brother, a father, all at the same time. He doesn’t want to leave my side, because he fears that the moment he can’t protect me from harm, I will die. And if I died, he’d lose the one thing that he values more than his own life, because I was there for him when we both ran, as much as he was there for me.’ She finally stated.
For a short moment, Samantha smiled as if Gwen’s explanation had truly touched her. She caught herself though, and returned to her more businesslike persona. ‘I see. I think that’s a good kind of dependence for two soldiers to have. I’ll make sure the officials know and will continue to put you in missions together.’ She offered, and Gwen nodded in agreement. ‘This, however, brings me to my second question.’ She continued.
The file she took from the bottom of another stack was coloured differently compared to the rest, a strange light orange. ‘Normally this process would take a long time, but the Council has expressed specific interest in it and has ordered for us to make haste. We’re just tying up the loose ends here.’ She handed some papers to Gwen, who found herself shocked to recognize them as papers relating to a mission- A new mission.
‘Although we understand that you have not yet fully recovered from your previous experiences, we would like to hear if you’d be interested in partaking in this freshly issued military undertaking.’ Samantha said. ‘It will be one of the largest missions issued this year, with a comprehensive group of about thirty of our finer soldiers, spread across three main groups. As you can see, the pay grade is much higher than most missions.’ She explained- and advertised. Gwen scanned the text for clues on the subject. ‘The pay sounds nice, but... The paper doesn’t explain what the actual mission is.’ Gwen remarked.
Samantha nodded. ‘Like I said, we are not yet completely finished with the issue. You don’t have to give us your word right now, but we would like to invite you to the conference that takes place a week from now right here in the Atlantis hall. Your partner has already consented to attending.’ Gwen folded the papers and handed the papers back. ‘In that case, I think it will be worth attending. We’ll be there.’ She said. Her interviewer seemed pleased with this answer.
~~~
As promised, one week later, Owen and Gwen walked into the main conference halls of the citadel’s main Council establishment in a somewhat more formal attire, for as far as either of them owned such an outfit. Gwen was allowed to walk now, although she resorted to using a crutch in her right hand and having Owen at her left in case she took a misstep.
Probably because of her decreased walking speed, they were one of the last people to enter; Gwen estimated a good twenty-something were already seated in the three rows of plastic chairs placed opposite the podium. Some she thought she recognized, maybe from seeing them in public from to time, maybe from news articles. These people were supposedly amongst the more skilled, and the Council apparently counted her one of those- Something she was still surprised about. Her record had not been too much out of the ordinary.
They sat down on the furthest row, as the first two were already filled up. The sound of Gwen’s crutch and her general appearance had turned a good couple of faces their way, but they returned their attention to in front of them. There was a soft murmur of excited conversation, and a lot of people seemed both tense and curious about what they were going to be hearing. But first off, following protocol, was the individual stating of name. This was used both for checking attendance and garnering recognition in the crowd.
Soon enough, once the last seats had been filled, a man walked up to the microphone. Everyone quieted down and stared attentively and seemed somewhat taken aback, for the man they were facing looked downright old for a Vanished. He was in his late forties, maybe even early fifties, but the scars- Most prominently a slash across his ebony skin around his right eye socket,- proved that he had done a long term as a soldier.
He spoke up. ‘Welcome to all attendees. It pleases me to see that everyone who was invited, has decided to join us for the day.’ He started, running his gaze across the rows of teenagers and young adults he was looking down upon from the marble podium. About eighty percent of serving soldiers were under the age of twenty-four, according to statistics. The life expectancy was not high. The risk of getting captured or killed was.
‘My name is Jacques Noir, General of the Atlantis-based military commandment- Which I believe you all fall under, even if you have been granted secondary housing in different citadels. My goal here today is to give you all an impression of what the mission you have all been informed of is about, and to prove how vital it is, landing at why you all in particular have been screened.’ He straightened his tie.
‘But I’m afraid that will have to wait until the role call has been completed.’ He said, seeming not overly happy with the prospect himself even though he had to be used to it. ‘We will start at the left- My left- of the row each time and move to the right; If you can all stand up and state your name in order, we can stripe you off and we’ll be done soon.’ He pointed at the first soldier on the left of the first row. ‘Now, son, we’ll start with you.’
On a side note, be sure to refresh before posting, seeing as I have no one set for being the first to post- If your character is male, first come is first serve. It'd be annoying to have plot confusion this early on, although if I remember correctly, there might be an error message displayed for that?
BIC
Gwen closed her eyes and tried to relax.
The warm water covered her entire body, with only her head still out, placed on a small rock outcropping fitted to the back of her head. It was silent around her, although in the distance she could hear the splashing, excited shouting and murmur of the public part of the pool- If you could call it that.
The water of this lake, at the bottom of the Atlantis citadel, was heated by the Earth’s own core and constantly purified by the multi-coloured crystals on the bottom, making it not only completely sterile, but infused with rejuvenating and healing energy.
This part of the lake was walled off, and belonged to the infirmary that treated those with physical wounds from combat, accidents or whatever could cause harm to the human body. The medical properties of the water were astounding, according to Owen. For her, it was mostly just nice to have a warm bath after everything that had happened the last few days.
She hadn’t stopped thinking about it since she had woken up several mornings ago, in an infirmary bed, with barely enough life in her to even speak. From right before she’d passed out earlier- From bloodloss and fatigue- She only remembered being scrunched up against Owen, somewhere in an abandoned, cold apartment on the outskirts of Detroit, his hand firmly pressed against the wound on her abdomen, where a bullet had penetrated, only narrowly missing her vital organs.
The two of them had been lucky. Three others of their team had been killed during the chase through the centre of Detroit, after They had discovered their position amongst the many streetroamers in that city. Owen had somehow managed to carry her all the way to the nearest leyline cave entrance, through said cave, and all the way back to the border of the Atlantis citadel, where he had collapsed. Others in the immediate area had brought them safely over to the infirmary.
According to the nurse, all Owen had required to get back on his feet were a long rest and a good meal. Aside from a couple of bruises and cuts, the chase had left him relatively unharmed. Gwen’s wound, on the other hand, had been a lot more severe. She wouldn’t have survived without the medical attention Owen had given her, back in Detroit.
Only one time before had she lost a teammate. Now she had lost another three, and it hurt every bit as much as the first time. Although she hadn’t exactly been close to the three, she’d spent a considerable amount of time with them and they had gotten along well. Gwen didn’t think she’ d ever get used to it. How could she?
Gwen realized she was slipping into depression again; She’d cried enough these last few days, with Owen at her side to comfort her. It was time to start focusing on the positive things. She was alive, she would heal up completely without even a scar left on her abdomen. She still had the boy who meant more to her than anyone else in this community.
As if on cue, she heard someone wading into the water at the shore behind her- If you could call the smooth rock that made up the edges of the lake a shore- towards her. She would’ve reacted, but she knew that she wasn’t in any danger. Besides, she was pretty sure she knew who it was.
A soft and grainy voice sounded. ‘How are you holding up?’
Gwen opened her eyes and found herself looking into a pair of blue ones, under a short-cropped black head of hair. Owen towered over her even more than he already did anyway; He was half a foot taller than her, not because he was tall per se- More because Gwen was quite short. Owen’s gaze flashed to the wound on her abdomen, in plain sight since she was wearing naught but a bikini, and back to her face. ‘The water’s nice.’ She replied, attempting a smile. ‘Why don’t you join me? You’ve got plenty of scars and bruises yourself.’ Owen smiled back, relieved she was in a good enough mood to joke around. ‘You know I don’t like having my scars dissolved.’ Owen said, sitting down on a larger rock to Gwen’s right.
Gwen sighed. ‘I know, and I think it’s dumb. Why would you choose to keep your scars, when you can get rid of them and make your skin look a lot nicer? Are you keeping them just to impress the ladies?’ She joked. Owen snorted. ‘The wounds still heal up, so it really is just the skin. I just...’ He paused to think. ‘What is the point of being a soldier when, out of combat, you have nothing to prove it with because your skin is smooth as a baby’s again? When I have grandkids, I want to have something I can point at and go ’Hey, kids, see this? I got this while kicking a guy in a trenchcoat in the face.’’ Gwen couldn’t help but laugh.
A short silence lasted between the two. ‘So, how’s the wound?’ Owen inquired, in a more serious tone, his inner nurse shining through. ‘Depends on which one you mean.’ Gwen answered, placing a hand on her belly. ‘This wound is healing up nicely, although it’s still painful. Nowhere near as painful as the one in my mind, though.’ She added. ‘And that one’s healing a lot slower.’
Owen looked down and nodded. ‘I know what you mean. It’s never going to get easier.’ He said. Gwen shrugged. ‘You’re handling it a lot better than I am, it seems.’ She remarked. Owen looked sullen. ‘I don’t know if I am, honestly.’ Before Gwen could ask what he meant, he sat up straight again. ‘Anyway, that’s not really what I came here for. A messenger has asked me to tell you that we’re up for filing our mission report in two days’ time.’
Gwen frowned. ‘It’s barely been a week. How desperate for news are they?’
Owens shrugged. ‘Quite desperate, apparently. Not many missions have been issued the last few months, and those who are are usually reconnaissance, supply gathering, babysaving and stuff like that.’ He said. ‘In a way, it’s a good thing, because it means we’re still keeping them in the dark. Less people are getting killed, more people are getting saved.’
Gwen looked at him. ‘But?’ She asked.
Owen ran his tongue over his teeth. ‘It’s not a war anymore. It’s a Half-War. We don’t know what They are doing in their labs while we hide away here, and if they develop something that could end us, we’re just sitting ducks here.’ He said.
‘Is that what you’re afraid of? That they’ll catch up to us?’ Gwen asked softly. It was a thought she hadn’t considered, or perhaps not dared consider. Owen nodded. ‘I can’t stand the thought of us losing all we’ve built around the globe. And no one even finding out, because all of this remains hidden from the eyes of normal people.’
‘We’re far more powerful than they’ll ever be, Owen. Remember that.’ Gwen said, in an effort to comfort her friend. Owen smiled half-heartedly. ‘I’ll try.’ He took a first step away from Gwen, then turned around again. ‘By the way, have you got any idea what you’re going to be doing once you’re back in your feet?’ He asked.
Gwen nodded as she looked up at him, which was rather uncomfortable because of his position relative to her. ‘I’ve been talking to a friend, who teaches younger children at the school here in Atlantis. She can use my help.’
~~~
Chapter 3; 1. The limitations of transformation.
The boy was hidden under the sheets of his bed, in the large room he shared with fifteen others. Large pods had been crafted into the side of the rocky walls, offering more then enough space for the ten-to-twelve-year-olds who slept here every night. The crystal lamps that provided light during the day- Standard Subterranean Time, which was the standard timezone for all underground locations, and based on GMT- Were now turned off, and it was pitch-black.
A soft glow from the boy’s palm, however, still enabled him to read, although only barely. He couldn’t sleep, and besides, this library book was too interesting to put away. Some of the boys made fun of him for being with his nose in the books all day instead of running around with a ball, and because he was always the first one to answer a question the teacher asked. But he didn’t care; The teachers were proud of him, after all.
Like all other variations of magic utilized by the Vanished, transformation has certain limitations. These are, in minimal description;
1. The Physical Limitation (A human body is able to generate only a certain amount of energy before exhaustion.)
2. The Focus (A more focused individual can call on larger amounts of energy from given sources and control these more efficiently.)
3. Available Energy (A Vanished might have an external power source in the vicinity, such as an electrical outlet or crystal to draw energy from.)
Some of these limitations tend to intertwine, seeing as all three are essential parts of all situations in which a Vanished might decide to use magic. For example, an individual whom has been hurt in battle will not be able to focus as much as he/she would have been able to when physically healthy. Further along the same line, someone who is not focused enough might not be able to properly call on energy from external sources.
One of his roommates muttered something in his sleep. He stopped reading for a split second to see if anything would follow, then continued reading.
There are other (smaller) factors, one of which is creativity. This limitation is not as widely recognized in the field of magical studies, as ‘creativity’ is seen as a subjective construct and ‘uncreative’ magical actions can be just as effective as the ones that have been thought through more. More creativity does, however, allow for more efficient and/or effective solutions when applied to certain situations, such as combat.
~~~
Even though her eyes had been closed and her body unmoving, Gwen had been far from asleep when she heard footsteps at her bedside. She hadn't been able to sleep properly ever since Owen had dragged her all the way to Atlantis. Every night in this hospital bed, just when she thought she had finally found some internal calm, the sounds- Explosions, shots fired, the screaming of pedestrians- and sights- A flaming car toppling through the sky above her, barely missing her head, a teammate toppling to the ground after a bullet shot straight through her chest- flashed through her consciousness. No one could sleep when such things roamed their mind, no matter how tired they were. And she was most definitely tired.
Gwen opened her eyes, because it was useless to pretend to be asleep- Her vital functions would betray her on the crystal-tech screen beside her. Plus, she felt like she could do with a little bit of company, even if it was just a nurse doing a check-up. This made for an even more pleasant surprise to see that the nurse at her side was, in fact, her friend Owen. He smiled like he had been smiling all along, even though she could sense he was not the slightest bit less worried.
'Still can't sleep?' Owen asked. Gwen nodded as he sat down on the side of her bed. She didn't have to look up to him this time, because the upper part of the mattress had been elevated to more or less forty degrees to allow for more comfort. 'Well, you're not the only one.' He remarked with a sigh. Gwen was genuinely surprised to hear this. 'What, even you've been having trouble sleeping? You're kidding, right?'
Owenn raised an eyebrow and grinned. 'What are you talking about? You know me. You could drop me out of an airplane when I'm tired and I'd fall asleep halfway down.' Despite everything, Gwen laughed. Once Owen was asleep, it took, at the very least, some violent shaking to wake him from his dreams. 'The people in this hospital, on the other hand, have been drinking too much coffee. Or they are troubled like you... like us.' Owen continued. 'Even though we're supposed to be stronger of mind, more disciplined and tougher than the surface dwellers, post-traumatic stress is a big issue. I've seen people, grown men, cry their eyeballs out for hours on end. It's...' He pursed his lips. 'Well, you're doing relatively well.' He said, with half a smile.
Owen stood up. 'I shouldn't be keeping you up. You need all the rest you can...' He paused when he felt Gwen's hand clench his wrist. Gwen looked at him drowsily. 'Can you... Can you just stay with me?' She couldn't recall the last time she had felt like this; Like the little girl she had been not too many years ago, alone in the dark and afraid of it. Her father had always stayed with her at night, at her side, gently caressing her cheek or just sitting there, his kind presence like a ward against the shapes she could sometimes make out in the dark.
Gwen sniffled.
Owen's gaze went even softer as he took her palm in both hands and bent down over her. ''Hey. Hey, look at me. Of course I'll stay with you- I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere.' He spoke to her in a hushed, comforting voice. She wanted to recollect herself, thank him, but her crying only got worse. She would never have allowed herself to break down like this if she'd been more stable, but she wasn't stable, just tired- So tired.
He climbed onto the bed and pressed his palms against her cheek and the back of her head. She wrapped her arms around his back in the childish reflex of a comforting parental hug, and he let her, laying down on his side as she had, her covers thrown off. She buried her face in the soft fabric of Owen's t-shirt, and he moved one hand from her cheek to her back so that he could hold her closer. She stayed like that, pressed against him, her tears staining his shirt while he whispered words of comfort.
Gradually, her breathing returned to a somewhat more normal rate, and the tears stopped flowing as uncontrollably. She still kept her head pressed against his torso, her mind zoning on his steady, strong heartbeat and long, deep breaths. There was something oddly calming about the natural rythm, combined with the kind words and his presence in general. Her firm, almost desperate grip on his waist turned into something more like a snuggle as her fatigue took over again, and she dwindled dangerously close to sleep.
She spoke up, her voice muffled and somewhat faltering due to the rawness of her throat. 'I guess I'm not handling it as well as you thought I were.' She said. 'You're doing fine.' Owen assured her. 'Venting is good for you, and this is the best way to do it.' He said. 'I won't leave until I know for sure you're asleep, but there's still some work around here for me to do...' He yawned, and laughed mid-yawn. 'That is, if I don't fall asleep myself.' Gwen smiled, closing her eyes because she couldn't bother keeping them open anymore. There was only one more thing she wanted to say.
'Owen?'
'Hmm?'
'I want to do something fun tomorrow.' Gwen mumbled. 'Get a wheelchair somewhere, and take me to the city. I can't stand this anymore.'
This time it was Owen's turn to smile. 'That's a very healthy attitude.'
Gwen hadn't heard him. The last sniffle made place for the soft breathing of a deep sleep.
~~~
Another nurse found them like that the next morning; Both vast asleep, wrapped in a mutual hug with peaceful looks on their faces. This, and the fact that Gwen was only wearing light underwear under her hospital nightgown, earned them curious looks from patients and nurses alike throughout the hospital, and in Owen's case, a couple of jokes and pats on the back from male colleagues. They let it slide. Gwen felt lighter, happier after having let it it all out, improving her mood and health alike. They went out to the cafetaria for coffee and breakfast together- A short enough distance for Gwen to be able to walk it- And discussed what they would do the rest of the day.
In the end, they decided on a walk along the Outer Circle (The road that followed the longest curve at the widest point of the roughly egg-shaped citadel), with stops at the Shinto shrine in the crystal park and whatever shop or boutique either of them wanted to visit. Later in the evening, they would pick a restaurant for dinner and, if Gwen wasn't too tired at that point, catch a movie after that. It was rather like a date in a lot of ways, although at the same time, it wasn't one. The relationship between her and Owen was hard to explain. It had all the qualities of love, apart from the chemical and the sensual. It was more than friendship, but nonetheless platonic.
Preparing for the trip turned out to be a piece of cake. A foldable wheelchair was easily retrieved from the storage, and after an impartial nurse did a quick reading of her vitals and the wound and judged her plenty capable to withstand the physical stress of a day out, the head nurse waved them off with a smile. Before they knew it, they were outside the large basalt gate of Poseidon Hospital & Clinic. They intiated their day trip along the Outer Circle, checking out boutiques and stands and occasionaly having some light chatter.
'What do the surface news reports say about the Detroit incident?' Gwen informed. Owen was relunctant to address the event again, in fear of another emotional breakdown, but after Gwen assured him she could handle it, he gave in. 'Large scale car crash, involving multiple vehicles. A police chase resulted in the driver of a stolen vehicle losing control of the wheel, damaging several cars in the narrow street and eventually crashing into an abandoned truck that had already been reported to be leaking gasoline and was scheduled to be towed not thirty minutes after the accident happened.' Owen said bitterly. 'It resulted in an explosion and the stolen vehicle flipping over. The driver didn't make it and the explosion killed three high school students whom happened to be passing by. There was security camera footage, witness interviews and everything. I would've believed it if I hadn't been there.'
Gwen sighed. 'Was it Dean who demolished that truck with a firebolt?' She asked, as she ran her finger across a row of necklaces hanging from a sidewalk stand. Masses of people, most of them their age or older, buzzed in the street around them. 'Yeah. And Leeroy was the one who threw that car at our pursuers. I wonder how many he killed with that.' Owen answered. 'Not enough.' Gwen remarked grimly. She shook her head. 'Poor Dean, poor Leeroy. Those two were so tight. Leeroy has always been a fool- I'm surprised he hadn’t gotten himself killed earlier.' She picked a necklace and tried to reach for it, but it was too high up for her to reach from her wheelchair. Instead of bothering Owen to help her, she flicked her hand and a tiny spark appeared in the vibrant golden crystal in the pendant around her neck. The necklace drifted off the rack into her outstretched hand. She draped it over her shoulders, removing her hair from under it at the back of her neck, and checked herself out in the mirror that was fortunately low enough for her to see herself in from the wheelchair.
Gwen had looked better in the past. Even though last night's rest had been much better than that of all the nights before, her face looked worn, and the slight cuts and bruises did little to help either. Her She'd lost some weight from distress and physical exertion, making her look a lot skinnier than a girl her age was supposed to. She tried not to focus on it, reverting her gaze to the necklace. The wood it was made up of had different shades, which, unfortunately, clashed with her pendant. Although the African totem symbol between the patterns of wood was quite pretty, it would've been a waste of money to purchase it.
Fortunately, other stands and shops proved to have better merchandise of all sorts. Even though the appropriate credits for the Detroit mission had not been deposited yet because the mission report had yet to be filed, Gwen had a fair amount of it still in her possession and she decided she wouldn't be spend the day worrying about cash. Her aim was to have an enjoyable day with her friend, and she would do whatever it took to fulfill that.
Owen shared in her excitement over the products offered. There were stands with books of all genres, fancy accessories, Thai and Japanese delicacies. It was more like a busy Chinese marketplace than the shopping avenue it was originally meant to be, because at the time of creation of the Citadels, the Council had not foreseen the Half-War principle. Because of the Half-War, the number of soldiers dwindled down to the lowest number it had ever been in the history of the Vanished as an organized community, while under the act of preservation and pre-emptive or acute rescue, the numbers of the Vanished in total increased and the life expectancy improved drastically.
This heavy burden degraded the ecomony over the years, and in certain periods, there were shortages of food and items. It took large amounts of reorganization, modernisation, reinventarisation and whatever -ion the Council liked to spout in an official message to those they governed to create a more stable economy, one that had held strong for years and was still efficient nowadays, although a lot of it depended on working on the tertiary sector; Those who could not lend themselves as soldiers for missions on the surface- A job that was well-rewarded because of the high mortality rate- had to take on jobs in education, production, supplying, scavenging, trading and selling.
It was hard work, but rewarding. There was a certain sense of unity, of working together for the greater good. In stark contrast with the surface dwellers, there were no viable threats from any terrorist factions and very limited cultural tensions, with the exception of when a person had grown up believing another part of society was despicable or malicious before reclusion into the Underground.
Those who where more open-minded, however, joined the melting pot of cultures the Atlantis citadel in special was known for. Some Citadels, usually those based under a certain region, contained a larger ratio of people from that area whom simply didn't want to get too far away from their old lives. Gwen couldn't blame them. She herself had only vague memories of the place she had ran from when she was ten, together with Owen; Manchester, in the US state of New Hampshire. Some memories had been lost over time, some she had pushed back to where she wouldn't have live through them anymore. She had yet to return to the place. Owen had, a year a ago. According to him, nothing much had changed, and both their families seemed to be happy and faring well. It had been an emotional time for both of them.
Perhaps some day she would return there, just for old time's sake.
By now, they were nearing the entrance of the crystal park, a place Gwen would never grow tired of. It was an enormous hall outside the main space of the Citadel, where crystals of all colours had been altered into the shape of large trees, bushes and even flowers. The park had been sorted into different seasons and climates, with flowers and grass in the spring and summer, winter tundras with tall, snow-covered pines, luminous autumn leaves decorating the forest floor in autumn. Even the dense rainforest hadn't been left out. Because everything consisted of crystal, it remained unmoving, making a trip through the forests like a neon dream where everything but you was frozen in time.
Amidst all this were several monuments, shrines and other builds, including the Shinto shrine Gwen wanted to visit. She didn’t consider herself a religious person, despite being raised Protestant, but there was something about the culture and that place in particular that made her feel more calm. It was an escape from everything, the daily fuzz, dreadful missions. A tranquil place.
The entered the hall, the large silver fountain in front of them catching their gaze as always. The fountain was a beautifully crafted monument, a homage to all the Vanished whom had fallen in missions throughout recorded history. Those who had fallen after the Council had been founded, at which moment registration and identification first became an official issue, had their names inscribed on the plating of the outer rim.
The actual fountain was shaped like a crystal, a pillar with six long protrusions at the bottom, raised up at an angle of forty degrees, like a grotesque but simple lotus. Unlike almost all energy crystals, it was perfectly symmetrical, and if this statue had been a to-scale depiction, it would’ve been a large crystal by many standards; The middle pillar was nearly nine feet tall.
Of course, it wasn’t to scale, as indicated by the small silver figurine on top of the pillar, depicting the patron saint of the Vanished, the Lost Traveler, at the correct relative height. The crystal was the size of a twenty story tall building. It was part of the Lost Traveler’s legend; His personal crystal was the largest and purest one on Earth, inhabited by the essence of Mother Earth herself. His unimaginable power came from that very structure.
Unfortunately, although his existence had been proven, this part of the Lost Wanderer’s story was the least realistically funded. A crystal of this size and power, not matter where it was, would have been sensed and found by now, unless the energy residing in it had been minimized, which would render it useless. It was a dead end, and a disappointment for historians and treasure hunters alike.
Gwen eyed the fountain not without disdain. ‘Do you think their names have been added yet?’ She asked. ‘No, that usually happens after the mission report has been filed.’ Owen’s voice sounded from behind her, as he was the one pushing the wheelchair around. He automatically went for the eastmost path, which led directly to the Shinto shrine. Because of Gwen’s wheelchair, they couldn’t stray from the paved paths, which Gwen found a shame. The small, quiet paths was where you could truly enjoy the neon beauty.
They went past the fountain. ‘Have you decided where you want to go for dinner?’ Gwen asked in an attempt to lighten the mood a bit. ‘I was thinking we could go for the Italian restaurant.’ Owen asnwered, sounding a little bit relieved he wasn’t going to have to be the one breaking the tension. ‘It’s quite a while away- Past the cinema- but I really feel like having a calzone.’
Gwen flicked her hair aside. ‘I don’t mind if it’s a longer distance. You’re the one pushing me around, after all.’ She joked. Owen huffed. ‘Yeah, and it’s making me hungry. So let’s go to the Italian right after we’re done at the shrine.’
~~~
‘I shouldn’t have finished it.’
Gwen leant back in her wheelchair, staring at her empty plate with a mix of disgust and bliss. Out of sheer hunger, she had devoured an entire pizza calzone and she was absolutely bursting. But nonetheless, the food had been great and the company possibly even nicer.
The interior of the Italian restaurant had been ‘authentically decorated’, meaning props like wine bottles, Italian signs, and murals of Mediterranean sights adorned the walls and ceilings. It was a fun place just to be at, and even though the environment was fake, the quality of the meals was very much authentic. Normally, this place was packed, but they’d arrived quite early despite spending a good two hours at the shrine.
‘You’re full already? I’ve still got place for dessert.’ Owen said, grinning and patting his stomach. ‘Not very much, though.’ He added. The noise of people chatting and laughing combined with the candlelight made the atmosphere very enjoyable, Gwen thought. She was quite tired already, especially with her stomach spending so much energy on digesting her food, and a certain gloom was beginning to settle over her mind.
‘Are you still up for that movie?’ Owen inquired after he ordered some tiramisu from the waiter. Gwen shook her head. ‘I’d probably fall asleep halfway through. But we’ll remember it for another time, okay?’ Owen nodded as if he had expected this. ‘Well, since you bought us lunch, I’ll take care of the check.’ He offered kindly.
Gwen wanted to refuse, but it was probably for the better if she let him. Owen was very stubborn in his helpfulness, and besides, today hadn’t been kind on her wallet; The amount of bank notes that the Vanished used for cash had diminished more than she’d foreseen. She could always withdraw more from her bank account if she wanted to, but she was notorious for spending too much if she didn’t keep an eye on her finances.
But had it been worth it? Absolutely. Gwen felt happier and more content then she had in a long time. Tomorrow was a big day, the day where she could continue her everyday life again. With extensive healing, she would be able to walk properly again in a week or two, according to the hospital staff. After that, the Council could technically deploy her whenever they wished, but she knew it’d be a while. The waiting time for a new mission could last for a month these days, if not more.
Owen payed the check and got behind the handles of Gwen’s wheel again. ‘Well, let’s get you safely to your bed. You owe me that movie, though.’ He said in an overly serious tone. Gwen laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t forget.’ She answered.
~~~
There was always something eerie about the interior of Council locations. Where basically all of the building in Atlantis were made of dark grey basalt adorned with a variety of crystals for light, ambience, and because they were difficult to remove from rock. The inside of the Council Hall, however, was almost entirely plated with white minerals such as marble, and lit up brightly using pure white crystals. It gave the place a more sterile look than any hospital Gwen had ever been in.
She knew it was supposed to represent the neutrality of the Vanished as a people when it came to nationality, as well as strengthen the vision of unity and simplicity, and that kind of stuff, but Gwen didn’t know if having government buildings be devoid of culture or decoration of any kind was a good idea. Even the furniture was made with simple black leather, chrome and glass in the monochrome ‘modern’ style you’d find at certain luxurious surface banks, trade centers or restaurants.
Still, the building served its purpose. And one of these purposes were interviews like the ones Owen and Gwen were about to go through. Interviews for mission reports were nothing new, because they were held after each mission once it ended, but this time it would be a lot more intense, for this mission had failed.
Even though she had successfully walked small distances the last few days, Gwen still depended on her wheelchair to get around, preferably with someone to push it. Luckily, the healing sessions and bathing were doing miracles for the wound and the damage done.
In the entrance hall, a Council worker who looked she was barely older than the two of them, had been waiting for them and was now escorting them to one of the interviews them. Earlier this morning she and Owen had conversed for a long time to get their stories straight and matching up, so that there’d be no confusion; The interviews were taken separately to ensure privacy.
For the second time in her life, Gwen was nervous and maybe even a little scared to file her official statements. There was nothing to be scared about- It was the military equivalent of paperwork. But they’d caused chaos, they’d cost lives, and she would have to retell everything down to the last detail. It was... Tough.
They arrived at a small waiting room with a single door on the far end, and eight leather chairs without arms, four on each wall between two glass tables with magazines. The girl who had introduced herself to them as Roxie Kleinn asked Owen if he wanted to go first, to which he nodded in agreement. He was looking more tense and a bit paler than usual, although the latter could have been because of the lighting. Gwen gave his palm a comforting squeeze as he went by her wheelchair, and he turned and smiled. 'I'll see you in a bit, Gwen.' He departed through the grey, windowless door.
Roxie gave a reassuring smile. The contrast between her vanilla blonde hair in a ponytail and her businesslike grey wear was somewhat disconcerting, but Gwen managed a somewhat less heartily smile back. 'Can I get you anything, Gwen?' She offered. 'Some coffee or tea, maybe?' Gwen shook her head; She didn't think she could stomach anything right now. 'No, thanks.' Roxie nodded. 'Alright, then. Once the interviews have been completed, do swing by the service counter so we can work out your finances.' She left with another polite smile. The clicks of her shoes sounded through the hall.
Gwen sighed to herself and grabbed a copy of The Typhon from the glass table. It was a half-newsoriented, half-tabloid magazine that summarized the happenings in Citadels and other underground locations every week, as well as supplying reports on latest trends in the worlds of fashion, culinary and entertainment facilities. It looked like this was the most recent print, so if there was any mention of the failed mission the two had survived, it would've been in this.
Minutes went by. Five, ten. Interviews could last for a while, but Owen was not exactly a man of many words. Gwen had made her way through a good portion of the magazine by now, skimming most of the content- Although she couldn't help but marvel over some of the new clothing styles brought down from the surface- but she had found no mention of the Detroit incident as of yet. There was a possibility, of course, that it had simply escaped their attention, although they were usually quite vigilant when it came to military scoops.
Fifteen. Twenty. Surely they were rounding up by now.
As if on cue, the door opened and Owen stepped out. He didn't look much better than he had before, but maybe a little more relieved. Gwen hastily put the magazine back on the table. 'How'd it go?' She asked, pushing down on the front of her wheels to roll up to him. He scratched the back of his head. 'Pretty much like I'd expected, so it was alright.' He motioned to the open doorway. 'Anyway, you're up. Want me to push you in?' Gwen smiled. 'I think I can manage this much myself, but thanks.' Owen nodded and sat down on one of the chairs.
Gwen rolled herself in over the bump, and headed for the table to her right where two people were seated; One at the opposite side of the table, and one on the side. Notes and files were spread across the table, along with a couple of empty coffee cups. The man at the side of the table had black hair and a scruffy beard, and looked to be in his late twenties. The woman on the other side of the table was probably a couple of years younger, with ginger curls and freckles on her pale skin.
The woman smiled and reached over the table to shake Gwen’s hand. The black-haired man nodded kindly. ‘How are you? My name is Samantha Morelock, and this is Lance Ros.’ Samantha said, motioning at her colleague. Gwen introduced herself with her full name, code and rank- Gwen Phillips, G8E-4A7, First Lieutenant- which Lance penned down on his clipboard, even though it was already in the files. He was today’s notary, it seemed.
'It's good to see you here, Gwen.' Samantha started, in a peaceful and professional tone of voice that she had been trained in to adress a soldier with. 'Let's start with you personally. How has your recovery been going?' As she asked this, she put a battery-powered audio recorder on the table and pressed record. Batteries were high-price goods, because they were a source of electricity; Something the Vanished were not yet able to gather from crystals. Some electricity was farmed from simple thermal power stations, but it was reserved for official institutions so they could keep digital records.
So Gwen started talking. About the origin of the wound, the healing applied immediately by the exhausted Owen, analysation of the wound, further healing and her ongoing but steady recovery. Everything was jotted down rapidly by Lance. From there, they moved onto the mission.
Gwen reminiscended about the preparations for the mission, meeting her teammates, departing to the surface outside of Detroit's center and anonymously joining the mass of streetwalkers, or as the surface dwellers called them, 'homeless'. The Vanished felt more connected to the streetwalkers than any other kind of surface dweller, because every Vanished essentialy started out as a homeless person before they found their way underground, or rather these days, were found. Along with that, pretending to be a homeless teenager rumaging through town granted an excellent opportunity to gain insight and allow surveillance in larger cities.
The purpose of the mission had been to build and maintain connections with the streetwalkers and other surface dwellers who could help the Vanished, be it by observing police and government behaviour, granting supplies, or helping them inbed their influences in the different levels of civiliation (Although mostly the lowest).
But it seemed word had traveled into the wrong ears. The government had their own spies amongst the streetwalkers, and after a period of two weeks of relative safety, several agents had tried to pick them off the moment they crossed over into the center of town. Their initial strategy had, as usual, been to try and take them alive. Nets had been shot down from the top of the roofs when the five soldiers stepped into a back alley, only to be saved by Dean shooting a wave of fire upwards a second before they had gotten pinned down.
From thereon, the chase had started, because they had no chance of winning against the agents with a height disadvantage like that. The agents had followed them onto the streets- In broad daylight- And tried to catch up with them on foot, by motorcycle and by cars. Gwen, as the highest ranking officer and leader, had indicated for her teammates to fight back. Their cover had been blown and the nearest exit to the leycaves was behind their attackers, so their only option was to fight back and get there. But when powerful attacks were thrown at Them, They often crossed the lethality line and brought out the real weaponry. All they could do was take cover and send lightning, firebolts and cars their way whenever the oppurtunity arose.
The first one to die had been Leeroy, who had rushed in and used telekinesis to lift a car and throw it at the agents, leaving himself exposed. That was all They had needed, and a shot clean through his chest had ended his life. Gwen felt herself choking up at this stage, and Samantha paused the interview to give her some time to recover. The blank white interview room, bare of any features apart from the furniture and mirrored glass- There wasn't supposed to be anyone behind there, seeing as military interviews were private, but Gwen couldn't help but occasionally throw nervous glances at it- wasn't a very comforting enviroment, but she spoke up again to continue the story of the battle and the escape.
~~~
Lance finished the last word in his long transcript with a decisive mark of a dot, putting his palm down on the table afterward to rest it. The stacks of files had been rearranged, opened, and closed again and the desk was possibly even more cluttered than it had already been. Even though the interview had officially ended, Samantha told Gwen there were two more questions she would like her to answer. She kept the recorder running. 'First of all, during the previous interview with your colleague Owen, his story seemed to be... Centered around you.' Samantha started, tactfully. ‘Could I get you to describe the exact relationship between the two of you?’
Gwen frowned. ‘I... How is this relevant?’ She asked. Samantha had opened a file on Owen, although Gwen couldn’t make out what the lines read. ‘We’ve had trouble with military agents getting romantically involved in the past, and while this is, as of yet, not covered by law, it has proved to be inefficient and dangerous.’ She explained, looking at Gwen with an unusually intense gaze.
Gwen shook her head. ‘Well, it’s... It’s not like that. To me, Owen is like...’ She tried to think of the right words. Gwen’d never had to explain what went on between her and Owen in a proffesional manner. ‘A best friend, a brother, a father, all at the same time. He doesn’t want to leave my side, because he fears that the moment he can’t protect me from harm, I will die. And if I died, he’d lose the one thing that he values more than his own life, because I was there for him when we both ran, as much as he was there for me.’ She finally stated.
For a short moment, Samantha smiled as if Gwen’s explanation had truly touched her. She caught herself though, and returned to her more businesslike persona. ‘I see. I think that’s a good kind of dependence for two soldiers to have. I’ll make sure the officials know and will continue to put you in missions together.’ She offered, and Gwen nodded in agreement. ‘This, however, brings me to my second question.’ She continued.
The file she took from the bottom of another stack was coloured differently compared to the rest, a strange light orange. ‘Normally this process would take a long time, but the Council has expressed specific interest in it and has ordered for us to make haste. We’re just tying up the loose ends here.’ She handed some papers to Gwen, who found herself shocked to recognize them as papers relating to a mission- A new mission.
‘Although we understand that you have not yet fully recovered from your previous experiences, we would like to hear if you’d be interested in partaking in this freshly issued military undertaking.’ Samantha said. ‘It will be one of the largest missions issued this year, with a comprehensive group of about thirty of our finer soldiers, spread across three main groups. As you can see, the pay grade is much higher than most missions.’ She explained- and advertised. Gwen scanned the text for clues on the subject. ‘The pay sounds nice, but... The paper doesn’t explain what the actual mission is.’ Gwen remarked.
Samantha nodded. ‘Like I said, we are not yet completely finished with the issue. You don’t have to give us your word right now, but we would like to invite you to the conference that takes place a week from now right here in the Atlantis hall. Your partner has already consented to attending.’ Gwen folded the papers and handed the papers back. ‘In that case, I think it will be worth attending. We’ll be there.’ She said. Her interviewer seemed pleased with this answer.
~~~
As promised, one week later, Owen and Gwen walked into the main conference halls of the citadel’s main Council establishment in a somewhat more formal attire, for as far as either of them owned such an outfit. Gwen was allowed to walk now, although she resorted to using a crutch in her right hand and having Owen at her left in case she took a misstep.
Probably because of her decreased walking speed, they were one of the last people to enter; Gwen estimated a good twenty-something were already seated in the three rows of plastic chairs placed opposite the podium. Some she thought she recognized, maybe from seeing them in public from to time, maybe from news articles. These people were supposedly amongst the more skilled, and the Council apparently counted her one of those- Something she was still surprised about. Her record had not been too much out of the ordinary.
They sat down on the furthest row, as the first two were already filled up. The sound of Gwen’s crutch and her general appearance had turned a good couple of faces their way, but they returned their attention to in front of them. There was a soft murmur of excited conversation, and a lot of people seemed both tense and curious about what they were going to be hearing. But first off, following protocol, was the individual stating of name. This was used both for checking attendance and garnering recognition in the crowd.
Soon enough, once the last seats had been filled, a man walked up to the microphone. Everyone quieted down and stared attentively and seemed somewhat taken aback, for the man they were facing looked downright old for a Vanished. He was in his late forties, maybe even early fifties, but the scars- Most prominently a slash across his ebony skin around his right eye socket,- proved that he had done a long term as a soldier.
He spoke up. ‘Welcome to all attendees. It pleases me to see that everyone who was invited, has decided to join us for the day.’ He started, running his gaze across the rows of teenagers and young adults he was looking down upon from the marble podium. About eighty percent of serving soldiers were under the age of twenty-four, according to statistics. The life expectancy was not high. The risk of getting captured or killed was.
‘My name is Jacques Noir, General of the Atlantis-based military commandment- Which I believe you all fall under, even if you have been granted secondary housing in different citadels. My goal here today is to give you all an impression of what the mission you have all been informed of is about, and to prove how vital it is, landing at why you all in particular have been screened.’ He straightened his tie.
‘But I’m afraid that will have to wait until the role call has been completed.’ He said, seeming not overly happy with the prospect himself even though he had to be used to it. ‘We will start at the left- My left- of the row each time and move to the right; If you can all stand up and state your name in order, we can stripe you off and we’ll be done soon.’ He pointed at the first soldier on the left of the first row. ‘Now, son, we’ll start with you.’
