CHAPTER 16 SUNSET BEFORE THE DARK ...

For the Director’s eyes only.

Observation Report

Terra is the name of this world.

A world where life has struggled to reach its potential, where life is enslaved by the very world that they inhabit. Catastrophes, disasters of mass scale and destruction hold the life of this world by their necks and chokes them. It is the cause of all, if not most of the reasons for the disparity between the evolution of technology and culture of this world compared to our great green earth.

The moving cities, which are called the Nomadic Cities by its inhabitants, are simply a work-around to their increasingly harsh environment, a simple necessity for survival in bigger communities.

Originium, the oh-so rare resource that we received as a shooting star in our world, is not so rare here. Massive amounts of Originium are left in the corpses of any place a Catastrophe decides to leave its destroying footsteps.

Originium. How interesting that they have the same name as ours.

Because of the ease and energy yield of Originium, all technology in this world is heavily built and dependent on it. There is no known major use of any other alternative energies.

But with such a magic material comes its drawbacks. Oripathy is a disease which comes from direct contact with Originium. Mr. Haber has already sent his report on the disease, so I don't need to explain it again here. We are unsure if we are affected by this disease yet, but our past experiments on earth have confirmed it affects animals.

The infected, a general term that encompasses all that is inflicted by Oripathy, seems to face a kind of division and oppression from those free from infliction. This divide in the inhabitants had grown to an extreme. The all too common tragedy of where hurt people hurt more people is repeated over and over. The power and strength of the Reunion Movement being our largest example, they took over an entire city of a country, the Chernobog of Ursus.

And now we arrive at Originium Arts. A special and undoubtedly magical way of reality manipulation using the powers of Originium. It is just like our portal. By the girl's words herself, it is a way to manipulate and transform matter and energy to its users' will. Uninfected people need a catalyst to use it, while the Infected do not. In our eyes, Arts is the physical manipulation of reality. A magic system that this world was built with, we are unsure of its nature, but we now know a glimpse of its potential, and I'm sure you do too.

Terra is the name of this world, a world that by all our predictions and analysis, is a doomed dystopia in which they rely on the hand that is slowly stabbing them. They made peace with their deal with the devil by thinking that its benefits in energy and arts would take away from the fact that it is slowly but surely poisoning their soil and earth to total inhospitality.

But they carried on, they should've died off a long, long time ago, yet somehow they constructed these massive cities comparable to the ones at home with large tracks underneath that are able to move them from location to location. Somehow. There is no way a civilization that started off as hunting and gathering cavemen could ever survive in this world designed for nothing but the continuation of misery.

Yes, all of us here, but mostly the folks from the scientific department feel that way.

There is something off about this world named Terra.

It is not just some world with people with animal ears and tails, not just some random planet on the Milky Way Galaxy where life found opportunity to grow, there is something much more to it.

The tailed girl said that the supernatural does exist here, but that's already obvious by the existence of Originium and the unexplainable Catastrophes themselves. We told her what we thought, and surprisingly, she said she never thought of the crystal and disaster as supernatural, but something natural.

There are many more mysteries to uncover in this world, and we shall shine our light through its deepest crevices. I just hope we ourselves don't get buried in the darkness of it all.

Signed. ####

…

“Foreigner-4 to Panopticon, the aircraft is now identified as belonging to a Pharmaceutical Company named : “Rhodes Island.” It is currently stationed at the small landship west of BFMC-2. Be advised, they seem to be, uhh- Refueling? They are- refueling? the aircraft at the top of the landship, multiple people are observed in the location. Over.”

“Panopticon to Foreigner-4, We copy, keep up the watch. Out.”

…

Lyudmila POV

I need to go back now.

Was the first thought that had crawled onto the top of my head as the warm water coming from the stainless steel square shower head descended onto the top of it.

My ears shrieked a little in reaction. I sighed as I clutched my still-injured arm, a pity.

The doctors said that I should take a shower. The bathrooms here, uhh- what did they call it again? 555? What a weird name. Oh well, it isn't in my position to judge their naming conventions. The bathrooms here were extraordinarily clean, the pristine gray marble that lined the lower half of the quite-spacious bathroom looked so perfectly installed that I got satisfied just by staring at it. The sink contained multiple faucets with varying uses and pressure and even though they weren't decorated with engravings of flowers or designs like the ones you would see at a royal bathhouse, one could feel the quality steel just by the pure shine of it.

The toilet however, was something completely alien, and had become my very first enemy of this facility. Something that Terra should never adapt to their own lavatories if they are ever introduced.

First of all, it had buttons, multiple buttons. Why would a toilet need buttons? Even more so, multiple ones? If there should be a button, then it's only purpose would be to flush!

When I first gathered around my surroundings and saw the accursed complicacy of the toilet, I tried testing its uses. There was no guide to the toilet, just buttons with the most unhelpful symbols known to man, the first one I tried was 3 wavy orange lines. Curious, I pressed it with intentions to discover and fulfill the increasing curiosity, and so when the act was done, the toilet seat started warming up.

It was honestly a pleasant surprise, so my eyes caught another button right next to it, the symbols this time being 2 blue lines curving to the sides and a middle one going straight up. Now what I expected was a cool, icy toilet seat, so when I pressed it, I myself waited patiently for the change, but all I heard was a couple of beep-boops then suddenly-

I tried to bury my face with both my hands in the shower to shield myself from such an unsightly memory, but unfortunately, it would seem that the water’s direct contact with my injured arm still hurt. I flinched slightly, grunting a pathetic roar, or a whimper, onto the empty air.

I wonder if they think I'm dead already?

Are they looking for me?

Or did they think I abandoned them?

No.

Surely, my brothers and sisters have faith in me.

I shake off those same terrible thoughts that had been crawling in my back ever since I discovered myself, here.

Here with them.

They called themselves Americans, they proclaim to be from another world, separate from ours, they lack the usual features you would find from a Terran race.

No wings, no ears. No tails, no horns.

They have consistently shown that they have technology and understanding of the elements that none in Terra had ever achieved before. But the most unbelievable part of all this, was that they were,

Nice? Generous? Understanding?

I don't know why yet. But everything has a reason, so they probably need something, but no matter what request they would ask of me, I'd repay my debt. So is the rule that Siracusa imprinted in my head when I was still young and in the arms of their laws and ways.

Besides, they seemed sympathetic to us, the infected. The usual, expected fear or vile hate people have when they discover these gray-dull crystals grow and appear on our systems, skin or more had been replaced by some sort of unusual, scientific curiosity and once in a lifetime sympathy.

I lived my life doing nothing but believing. Believing everything I do and will do will have its point. I believed in Talulah and her ideals, and that the knife marks I leave would be seen years later as the first signs of change for the good or the blood I spill in the soil would be justifiable and that same soil would soon grow fertile to host life. So, may it be pathetic or not, I will- No I have to, have to believe yet again, that maybe, these people, may have the heart, soul and mind to help the infected, my kind.

I shook my head in the shower, what's with me today? All these embarrassing thoughts...

When I was at the Reunion, all I ever had to think about was the orders given to me and my future revenge against them.

Is it the change in environment or is it the fact that I had time to think about what I am even doing?

Water still continues to pour like a gentle waterfall and continues to drip down all the way to the drain as the hot vapor moistens the glass and mirrors.

Was I getting too hopeful? Were my thoughts getting too naive and childish? I know some people in the Reunion would probably laugh at me if they ever get to see my thoughts, well it's a good thing they can't. I'm not as smart as Talulah, nor old and wise as Patriot, but hope should be a good thing, right?

I touched and held the little stainless steel switch of the shower and turned it to the right. I took my towel and started to wipe myself, my tail was completely drenched and they seemed to take that into account by the presence of another towel accompanied with a little note that said “Supplementary towel for specialized needs.” behind the first one, slight laughter parted from my lips.

Departing from the shower room with clothes already on and taking some moments to wrap my other arm in bandages, I took some time preparing myself for what's about to come. Recently, another arrangement had come about. An arrangement where the old man said was a talk about the future, or future cooperation.

Now let's see, what do you really want from me?

Open the door then through the light-lit gray hallways of smooth concrete and steel bars then down through some flight of stairs neatly labeled with signs on which side you should use then through another smaller hallway filled with glass windows leading to a door with an exit sign decorated above it. They seem to trust me well enough to let me wander around without some guide, or are there cameras littered everywhere inside the building? I don't see any…

Oh well. It doesn't matter, the not-a-Lupo, Lupo should be waiting just outside. I opened the door out, the orange warm sunset sun greeting my skin with its relaxing flare.

One foot out, then another, then it quickly transformed to some walking and I find myself in the same garden with the standing stone monolith. I look around for the old man, yet his figure declines to meet my eyes. I walked around for a bit more around the garden paths with grass growing from the stone cobble, then I saw him on one of the wooden plank benches. His head was down and- Wait, is he sleeping?

A sighed smile, then I walked over to him.

“Looking sleepy already huh?”

He awoke from his peaceful looking slumber, then looked at me with his eyes.

“Good Afternoon. Say, the carpenter who constructed this wooden bench has a knack for comfort and peace.”

I rolled my eyes at him.

“So, you said that your brass had some plans for me, so just tell me now while we walk. No need to beat around the bush.”

He stood up with legs straight, then moved to walk. I followed the motion.

“So?”

“You are a leader, a commander of a powerful organization too.”

“What are you getting at?”

He looked at me while we were walking and said

“You are smart, Crownslayer. You must have recognized that we need allies in this world, yes?”

“I recognize that. For people like you, who can't even imagine the capabilities of arts… I think your existence would be short-lived without help.”

He stared at me like he had something to say about that, but quickly changed his mind to something else.

“That is why we need help, and as of right now, there’s no one but you who can help us.”

I contemplated. I know what he's getting at, and I completely understand why.

Could this be an opportunity for the reunion? We never really had allies but ourselves, but can that change? But there was still a lingering question stuck in my mind.

“Old man, I'd gladly do you a favor or two in exchange for saving me, but I'm not the big boss of The Reunion. Aside from some special privileges and my own forces, I don't have that much authority in the Reunion. If you're asking for an alliance, then what does your CIA have to offer?”

He looked at me with his always straight gaze, his facial muscles almost curved and contracted into a smile very different from his usual warm and friendly one but then was quickly reversed in a millisecond.

“An alliance? I think that's going a bit too far. For now, it's a mutual partnership between two parties that can help each other. Well, as for what we can offer, you shall see.”

I stayed silent after that, I just need to wait again before finally knowing what they are trying to achieve. And if that goal and ours be the same or atleast can mutually benefit from each other, because this cou-

“Oh, by the way, did something happen earlier?”

Interrupting my thoughts, the old man chose to ask me an odd question.

“What do you mean?”

“I think I heard a girl scream earlier, was that you?”

“H-Huh? N-No, I haven't heard any screaming earlier.”

“Really? I was sleepy then, maybe I was just imagining it.”

“Yes, yes you were.”

...

OSWALD POV

Expedited. Everything had been expedited. The plans for the next week had become today's schedule. The eggs laid to hatch for next week have become today's dinner.

I continue to work away at endless paperwork on my desk.

The situations that we have been observing for the past few days are reaching their tipping point, and we need to take advantage of all of it now.

BFMC-2 Is riddled in revolts and anarchy reigns like fiery revolution in its slums, something or someone is clearly influencing the masses like rats to a flute following a tempting melody. The CIA should give their praise to whoever orchestrated this way of destabilizing the lower masses, maybe whoever this person is, would be interested in an internship?

But that doesn't matter right now, public security is a mess and chaos has been steadily building up, like a balloon ready to burst. But what would be the needle?

The Reunion Forces stationed on the first BFMC had finally built up and supplied their forces again. We know this because of our continuous drone operations. Always observing. Always watching. The Reunion is prepared for another takeover, and we are not meant to sit idly by. We predict their second invasion would start in 2-3 days' time, based on the travel time using land vehicles from BFMC-1 to BFMC-2. Unless they power up the stationary BFMC-1 to move to BFMC-2 of course.

The plan was, to use Orange as a means to negotiate with the higher ups of the Reunion, We don't expect to gain resources from them, but other favors that could help us. The PAG had come up with a front group that would represent the interests of the organization, without actually exposing our actual identity.

Very creatively, they called it “Liberty Logistics.” A logistics company named after the core tenant of the United States of America, they had the idea of naming it after places in the US, but after considering the fact that an alternate US might exist in this world, they decided on a noun Instead, to possibly avoid future confusion.

Liberty Logistics, a transportation, intelligence, logistics and speciality company born out of the many skeletons and lessons learned from the many front companies the CIA used in their own worlds for decades.

“Anything, Anytime, Anywhere-Professionally.”

I muttered, It was the old tagline of Air America, finally seeing use again in another world by the newly formed Liberty Logistics.

Then suddenly, my phone produced a ring. A message from my assistant himself that read:

“A message suspected to be from Snafu himself had been received by our drones. Come down to C&S room 2.”

A quick read and a quick analysis using my brain then I quickly clear my table, adjust my tie after and straighten the crumbled fabrics of my suit, to hide the fact that I had been sleeping with them on, then after a little comb of the hair, I had waltzed outside the office.

…

Unlike the massive convention center-like room of the last time Crownslayer got questioned, this time the room was a bit more personal.

A smaller room, with a warm yellow lamp light illuminating the enclosed space and within it stayed a display shelf of what Crownslayer guessed to be numerous memorabilia of the organization’s past roots and beside the decorated shelf was a wooden cocobolo desk separating the only two chairs in the room facing each other, one of which, Crownslayer was using to sit upon, and the other sat air.

Bored waiting, she looked around her surroundings. Her eyes turned and observed and eventually caught interest on the multiple items displayed on the shelf.

One of them was an old, dusty photo picture of what seemed to be a tunnel underground, with wooden posts and framework holding the little mine from collapsing and protecting an odd looking metal box of which many wires came from and connected to the other indescribable, indiscernible metallic construction next to it, the word “Berlin” was written on the bottom right of the photo, but apart from that the most interesting fact of the whole capture was that it was devoid of color, incorporating nothing but black and white.

She looked to the left of the picture frame to her next target of interest. A seemingly random piece of weirdly shaped metal, with nothing too special on it except for the little masking tape stuck on it with characters written on it, but unlike the readable, comprehensible-type of word written on the photo, this one was just a bunch of letters and numbers written in a strange way.

“YAK-23 1953?”

She muttered to herself, a suspicious gaze was cast upon the odd piece of metal on the shelf standing with its own personal stand and all.

She gave up trying to dictate the true nature of the offbeat piece of manufactured mineral, and instead looked at and went closer to the blue-green with pink, orange and yellow sphere held by some sort of wooden stand that allowed the sphere to spin in a way. Upon closer look on the sphere thing, she could make out letters, a lot of letters laid out in a specific manner all over the sphere.

“Indian Ocean?”

She said, reading out one of the lines of text located on the blue parts of the sphere. Confused, she looked more into the words on the sphere. Most of the blue parts consisted of words like oceans, seas, rivers and lakes but it wasn't until she moved her eyes away from the blue parts and to the defined shapes of different colors apart from the blue and read out the words of mountains and hills and what she guessed as names and titles that she realized what she was even looking at.

“W-Wait what? Is this thing some sort of map?”

A new viewpoint of the sphere changed her perspective of the whole thing.

“Why is their map like a sphere? No wait, this thing doesn't end but wraps around itself? Don't tell me that they- No, that's ridiculous!”

Too distracted by the random bookstore bought common 25 dollar globe displayed just to fill the shelf with something with color, she failed to recognize and detect the knocking and creaking of the opening door and Alberto entering the room staring at her amazed yet confused state.

…

“Foreigner-4 to Panopticon, The aircraft is seemingly being prepared for another flight, permission to follow if it does. Over.”

“Panopticon to Foreigner-4, Permission granted, never leave its tail. Out.”

___

A/N

Preparing for some more action in the coming chapters, thanks for all the support! Planning to get another official 1/7 arknights figure, but I dont know who...