CHAPTER 14 OMNISSIAH ...

BFMC-2 Intelligence Division 4

“Panopticon to Foreigner-1, have you finished mapping up the entire north east of the city?”

“Roger, we’ve just finished the scan. Foreigner 2 and 3 should also be nearing completion, we'll have this city's entire layout in no-time. Over.” “Copy that, Send all of the data after you're done. Out.”

“Foreigner-4 to Panopticon, we are circling around the Smaller Moving Platform, and we are seeing movement of some sort of VTOL like vehicle atop its roof, Over.”

“Panopticon to Foreigner-4, We see it as well, keep a clear distance away from the aircraft and do not let it see you. Continue monitoring the aircraft in such an event that it flies and leaves its place. Over.”

“Foreigner-4, Copy that. Out.”

…

BFMC-1 Intelligence Division

“Intervention to Skyfather-1. What's your status, Over.”

“This is Skyfather-1, we've fully refueled from the last operation, we're on observation duty on BFMC-1, and we have sights on an interesting development, Over.”

“Intervention to Skyfather-1, What are you seeing exactly?”

“Skyfather to Intervention, we're observing multiple armed combatants ranging from 30,000 to 40000 marching in the central streets of BFMC-1, they are not aware of our location at this moment. Over.”

“Intervention to Skyfather-1. Copy that, continue observing the situation, immediately report any new developments, Out.”

…

Area 555 Security Department.

“This is Diamond Actual to all Diamond units in special duty, ‘Orange’ and ‘Colosseum’ are now scheduled to visit outside the ‘Can’ in about 20 minutes. Immediately secure and watch over Sector 9. Remember, stick with the plan.”

“This is Diamond-1, Copy that.” “Diamond-2, We copy.” “Diamond-3, We hear you loud and clear, Copy.” “Diamond-4, Copy.”

…

Expedition Drone Squadron 6

“D-Do you see that Spyglass-2”

“Yup, massive snowy mountains to our north. Hey, this kinda reminds me of the Siberian Mountains, does it look similar to you? Uhh- Spyglass 3?”

“What? Outside of one tour somewhere in Africa, I've never been outside the states!”

“So you didn't have any snowy mountains there in Africa?”

“I don't think so? And what the fuck does that have to do with Siberia?”

…

Area 555. Security, Administration and Human Resources Department.

Pen on paper, the documents of one of the most advanced government controlled areas of the damned glorious USA, was now using pen and paper, pen and fucking paper.

“Here! Look at this! It seems we've severely underestimated our fucking drone wing’s gluttony!”

A white collared worker yelled, flinging his otherworld stick from an otherworldly tree that he somehow got from trading from the very few people licensed to go outside the facility, he was using the stick to point out the day by day report presented on the wide screened tv, showing a 5th grader level looking graph. It was evident that it was probably made just 30 minutes ago.

“We wouldn't last a month here if it keeps increasing like this!”

He ranted. But in a way, he was telling the truth, they have severely underestimated their consumption of resources, by a lot.

“But Sir, what happened to scraping down and converting our prototypes and the dusty cobweb tech we have in our storage?”

“Haven't you heard?!” The ranting analyst said. “Fucking High Brass halted over 60% of our recycling operations!”

“W-Wait, why?”

“The moment they discovered BFMC-2, they all got scared of their modern civilization or something and now they decided to keep their fucking stockpiles of prototypes! I mean, I get it, but what the fuck is a stealth bomber gonna do when you can't even have more than 3 minutes of showering!”

He said, his voice reverberating to each and every corner of the meeting room which hosted over 60 individuals as his audience.

Then a knocking sound that came from the door followed.

“It seems that there is a problem here.”

The cold voice from behind the door said.

“May I enter?”

The voice announced.

“O-Of course Sir! You can!”

The analyst said, now regretting that he spoke a tad bit too loud and attracting unwanted attention. The door opened silently, as if it was afraid to produce the usual creaks that it usually screeched.

“Sir!”

The room stood in a polite gesture to their Department’s Director. Alex Giuseppe, went straight to the podium, the analyst from earlier stepping aside to give him space. But before speaking to the crowd, he turned his attention to the analyst.

“I hear you have concerns with the management of the department. May you please share them with me?”

His voice was of a gentle gentleman, smooth, crystal clear and precise and he spoke in perfect corporate speech, yet still maintaining politeness and civility. The common man, who knows nothing but the surface would assume the person to be one of the honest and respectful kind, the kind that would honor their parents and help the elders to cross the street, and if they really do think that, then it would be the reason why they would forever stay as a common man.

But here comes the officers of the agency, who are of the more than common kind, that knows well of what this man is capable of, that thinks his kindness and politeness are no jest but merely a layer that he maintains for appearance and show. For in their minds, for someone to get into a position as high as that in the organization, you'd have to have some bodies under your belt and blood on your hands, or if you're a really clever one, then make someone else have blood in their hands while keeping a clean hand with a velvet glove. It was the way of the agency, and everyone knows it, but the feeling climbed higher and stronger when facing Alex Giuseppe. Except for his exemplary work at the agency, no one knows what he had done in his past or under curtains and no one knows for sure why he's so kind and polite, but all the assumptions made them afraid of him nonetheless.

“Sir! It's because I think we are consuming too many of our own resources, and-and uhh, that's not favorable. Sir.’

The analyst said, stumbling midway through his sentence while face to face with an emotionless stare.

“I understand your concern, I too believe that our resources are way too low for the agency to use in so many large scale operations.”

The analyst smiled cheekily, thinking that his rant earlier would be justified by his superior.

“However, with the cost, comes guaranteed results.” The analyst’s face fell. “S-Sir, can you explain?”

“If in an alternate universe, we chose to somehow preserve our resources and never even flew a single bird to the air, we would have not discovered the first Moving City, and the events that followed after.”

Alex then stared outside the window of the room, observing the multiple security forces of 555, codenamed as “Diamond” preparing for Orange’s first trip outside her can. Then he turned back to face the person he was talking to.

“If we have never sent those drones, and used all those gallons of expensive jet fuel, we would also probably never meet her, and I must say, in my eyes personally, she is worth the investment and the risk.”

“B-But, we could have just met any local, without using that much resources, maybe by foot or-”

The analyst stopped talking, noticing some flaws in his own reasoning, however Alex still decided to answer him.

“We know that Orange is not just any local, but one with special connections and knowledge. I also imagine contacting locals on foot or in land vehicles would be nearly impossible. We know nothing of this world and its geography, even if the moving cities are big, we would not know the correct direction to even have a chance to notice them. Keep in mind that walking our way to civilization would need multiple hundreds of groups to walk countless miles just so that they could find something, in this almost barren world of wastelands, and in return would also need innumerable resources to explore.”

“I-I understand, Sir.”

He said, defeated.

“But still, how are we supposed to keep up with the continuing demand for more supply, more materials and most importantly fuel?”

“We already have found a potential solution with the help of the Drones. The cities, and especially the second one could resolve our crises.”

“But how? What do we offer them?”

“I am afraid I cannot answer you at this time, for that is compartmentalized information.”

“M-My apologies for asking too much, Sir.”

“Do not apologize for seeking knowledge. Just make sure to not be too curious.”

Alex said, looking away from him and outside the windows of the tall building, but then he went back to staring at the analyst.

“Where did you get that stick?”

…

“What the- this place is bigger than I thought it would be…”

Said Crownslayer, admiring all the ungodly gray temples of the facility, to her left was a massive building towering at least over seven floors high with extending glass windows in all its floors. She doesn't know why, but she feels like someone is staring right at her from that one ominous building.

Shivers aside, she took her time observing her surroundings, apart from the set of apartment looking blocks of buildings she came from, which looks a little inviting in their architecture, the other buildings within view were instead just massive flat-walled concrete, steel and glass constructions barring any resemblance to any type or artistic architecture but instead similar of that to factories and industrial centers that somehow reminded her of descriptions and tales of the industrious Rim Billiton of the south but unlike the ubiquitous corporate signage and logos that were plastered in almost everything in Rim Billiton, these buildings almost had no marks, signs, logos or any identifying pieces to themselves that one may use to dictate its purpose or name, making the place almost blank.

But only almost, in the quite spacious garden park she arrived in when she stepped out of the doors of the building she was kept in, laid many varying ornamental plants ranging from many decorative bushes, ferns, extending vines flowing from small trees and even some light flowers here and there coupled in with a few benches that ran along the cobbled pathway, a pathway that lead to a monument.

In the middle of the quite well kept homely and pretty garden that Crownslayer thought was inviting, in stark contrast to the rest of the area, laid an obelisk. She could mark out some victorian markings laid on the tall monolith, but before she could move her feet further to comprehend the meaning, Alberto who was busy doing something with a phone looking thing behind her finally caught up.

“Miss, how are you feeling right now?” “Old man, I told you that you can just call me Crownslayer.” She said, sighing in the process. “Anyways, I feel fine, you don't have to ask me every time y'know?” “Just making sure you're alright.”

Crownslayer rolled her eyes and went back to sightseeing the alien environment.

“Your buildings here all look so dry and plain. Does architecture not exist in your world?” Alberto smiled dryly. “Hmm, I do agree that this place doesn't exactly look beautiful, or even welcoming. But it's built not with aesthetics in mind but with function in heart. And if God looks down upon you, maybe your wishes will be fulfilled and I can show you the architecture of mine homeland.”

“God?” Was the only thing Crownslayer said with a slight chuckle at the end.

Alberto didn't feel like inquiring further to know what that meant, he could guess it on his own, but it did give more insights to what she might have gone through and what kind of person she may be. The duo continued their frolic in the garden, eventually making it to a place close enough to decipher the words inscribed in the standing pillar monument.

“The Central Intelligence Agency, 555.” Crownslayer muttered, then she looked down to the set of random letters in rows and columns below the name. In the most upper right corner of the box of random letters lay the only comprehensible word or readable structure and arrangement of the randomized alphabets.

“Veritas? Interesting to see Laterano words here.” She muttered to herself, then she looked in Alberto's direction.

“I can read the name of the organization at the top and this Veritas here, but what does all these other jumbled up alphabets mean?”

Alberto walked closer, touching the stone cold surface of the monolith.

“I also don't know what all this means.” He said quite calmly.

Crownslayer, being a bit jumbled up, his response furrowed her eyebrows.

“Huh? But don't you live here or something?”

Alberto pulled his hand back to himself and stroked his light beard inquisitively.

“These random messes of letters in rows and columns laid deep in this monument of stone is what you would call an encrypted message, purposefully hidden from those who wish to know. From the day of its first inception to now, no one, not even our brightest cryptographers, has been able to decipher its meaning.”

Crownslayer was a bit pulled back, now looking at what first seemed like nothing but nonsense with new understanding and perspective.

“Well? Why won't you just ask the one who made it?” Said the ever simple-solution minded Crownslayer.

“The artist who made it is quite a selfish one. Proclaiming that he'll always keep the answer secret to himself and all the way to his grave.”

“But, what happens if it's all- let's say, bullshit?”

“Then, if it is all gobbledygook, then I suppose that mad fellow got us good!’ Alberto said, chuckling. Crownslayer simply rolled her eyes again.

“Say, didn't you say we had a schedule to follow today? Like visiting some other bigshots of your organization?”

Alberto checked his watch, then he looked at her and said, “Actually, since you really didn't want to stay inside the building and wanted to go out as fast as possible, we are extremely early on our schedule. How about I give you a tour of the place?”

“A tour? I think that'll be interesting.” She said, with a bit of excitement leaking from her voice.

“Follow me, I'll show you around.” Said Alberto, but before she could even take a single step to start the tour, a roaring sound straight from the clouds of heaven took her attention.

She turned her head and looked up at the high blues of the skies of Terra, searching for the perpetrator of the terrifying air-tearing growl that still was scattering its roar throughout the air. And then she saw it, a massive air-bound beast of metal and sharp steel with extending wingspans the length of a massive truck soaring through the air at speeds she had never observed before as it passed her while producing one of the most ear-splitting sounds in the world causing her to momentarily cover her animal ears and turn away and cover herself in instinctual fear.

“Huh, that one was flying pretty fast and low, what in tarnation are these pilots up to?” Alberto said nonchalantly, being used to the frequent flybys of the massive UAVs.

“W-What the fuck was that thing!?” Cried Crownslayer in total terror that she had not felt in years.

Alberto looked at her with a quizzical gaze. “I thought you said that the Reunion had a lot of drones? That thing that just flew by is a drone.”

Crownslayer looked at him wide-eyed. “I-I think we have two extremely different things on our heads concerning drones!”

... Chernobog Somewhere

W wasn't a real mechanic, engineer or any form of occupation that would declare her as a master of tinkering with any intricate Originium technology or gadget, but considering her history and love of explosives and any other gadgets capable of death and destruction, it was safe to say that she had a respectable amount of knowledge on various types of technology and equipment over the years. Skills that would prove their worth through her years of being a mercenary and now a reunion commander, and now they are proving their worth again.

Picking up and tinkering with the little pieces of the device she coincidentally found on the back of Pavel, she grinned.

“Obviously some sort of tracker, but for what?’

She thought of Pavel, her most probable lead to all of the mysteries currently haunting the Reunion Movement. A person that somehow was spared by the ghosts of Chernobog, the group responsible for the multiple murders that fateful day.

“That stubborn bastard...”

She muttered out quite lowly, still being annoyed that she didn't manage to dig up the obvious secret that Pavel is hiding. But nobody is unbreakable, she just has to wait for him to break, then maybe she could have her resolution.

She turned back to the tracking device, and like the gun she found, it had no signs of using any type of Originium energy to power itself. She would be stupid not to connect these Originium-less equipment together, for they were obviously related in some way.

“Maybe they came from the same source?”

To her, that theory probably had the highest chance of being correct, but what was the source? The easy guess was it came from the fabled Ghosts of Chernobog, but then again, she still had no idea and not even a clue to who they are, well except for one. She pulled out the ID card that she had been keeping safely and away from anyone's knowledge like it was a winning lottery ticket.

“And here you are again, The CIA.”

She muttered to herself in amusement, shortening the name of the agency to just three letters since it was quite long. Assumptions are usually the birthplace of misunderstandings and mistakes, but this time, even without real hard concrete evidence, W really had a good feeling that the CIA was the ghosts of Chernobog. She thought back to Pavel, still being conflicted as to what his role in all of this was.

“Clearly, he was deemed important enough to let live or something? But why?”

Pavel was just the common man, the type of man that if he just went up and disappeared one day, no one would care, or even notice. That's just how plain he was. So why was he the lucky one? W didn't know no matter how she tried to work her head’s brain cells, but at least she now knows that he's important, somehow.

“He's my largest lead right now, he's still silent. Meaning he has some respectable dedication to whoever he's trying to hide, or he believes that someone would save him.”

W sighed, so far there were still no signs of someone trying to get to Pavel. Maybe they somehow found out that she was using him as bait?

“No, that'd be ridiculous.”

She said, shaking her head as she turned her head outside the windows, observing the thousands of Reunion Soldiers marching in file.

…

“Foreigner-4 to Panopticon, the unidentified aircraft had landed in a small but secluded area in BFMC-2. I see visuals on what I presume to be multiple armed soldiers, Over.”

“Panopticon to Foreigner-4, We see it as well as you do, keep up your watch. Out.’

...



(A/N) Which do you prefer? Every 7-8 days upload in 3k words or every 14-15 days but in 6k or more words?