Chapter 2

Gala / Realign

 

“For as long as I can remember, we have been living in tumultuous times. Whether it's been threats from outside the walls or threats from within, it's hard to live in Bastion on any given day and not worry about what might be coming next. Even before my time, since the time of the Thrall Campaign, even the most peaceful times have been tinged with a hint of concern. A Thrall can arrive at any time, in any place, for no reason at all. It was for this reason that the Registry was implemented to meet the threat of the Thralls. The Registry faltered during the Campaign, it made mistakes, so we had a change in leadership. The one thing that remained true throughout is that the purpose of the Registry, the purpose of Collars, is to protect the people of Bastion, and the people beyond our walls, from Thralls.

In recent years, I fear the Registry has become distracted. We've become distracted by Vassals, creating chaos in the city to protest the Registry and what we stand for. To protest what the Registry used to stand for. Somewhere along the line, I feel as if the Registry lost its focus. Mistakes are being made again.

Tonight, things change. Thank you all for coming. Many of you are old friends or colleagues and I know you're watching closely to see how I do. You want to know if I'm capable of this, if I can take on such an important role as Director of the Bastion Registry. Many more of you, however, have never met me. You don't know who I am. I'm sure you're wondering the same thing. Can he do this? If you were unhappy with my predecessor, you wonder if I will be more of the same or something new. If you liked how things were, you may be worried that you won't like the changes."

The crowd watched, breath hanging, no one made a sound as Archer began his speech. A stage was set up at the far end of the ballroom, on which the new Director stood alone in front of a podium under lights that left the rest of the room cast in a contrasting darkness. Everyone that had come wanted to hear what Archer was going to say. The members of the Registry wished to know how their jobs and lives would be changing. Directors didn't change frequently, things around them often changed drastically when the situation arose. The representatives of the city wanted to know what archer was planning to do to prevent another Freeman from happening.

Freeman, who had galvanized malcontents into terrorists and turned Collar against Collar.

“I can't promise I will do any better than the man who held this position before me. However, what I can promise is that I will remain myself. But who am I? Those of you who know me are familiar with what that means, but those of you that don't probably need more reassurance. Since I was a boy, I have wanted to make the world a better place. To be honest, I've had my sights set on this position for a long time. Now that I'm here, I've got a lot I want to get done. In pursuit of that goal, I have spent the past months preparing a radical redesign in the methods of the Registry and the Collars that serve under our banner. If anyone has not seen much of me over the past year, take that as proof that I've been a busy man. It took time to prepare the changes that I want to make. I'm here to tell you tonight that I am ready. Tonight, things change. Every member of the Registry, Collar, security staff, even food service, has already been distributed a handbook of our new guidelines and procedures. Anyone who feels uncomfortable with these changes is free to resign at any time. As a gesture of improved transparency, the same handbook delivered to my staff will be distributed to everyone attending this event, and will be freely accessible online at any time. The Registry is no longer an organization of secrets, nor does it believe that the people of the city are to be protected like livestock."

The crowd chattered. Archer had struck a nerve. It was known that he was critical of Canaan's methods, it was known that Canaan had been one of the least transparent Directors in history. Even still, Canaan had never once come out and directly called the people of Bastion livestock. As Archer waited for the crowd to grow silent, he located a figure at the back of the crowd that he was certain was Canaan staring silently back up at him.

Archer looked regal on the stage. He was wearing his finest uniform, a modern take on the formal military dress from times long gone with a heavy emphasis on the gold, which he had graduated from mere accent to the main color. The uniform was impractical for combat, but Archer knew that combat wasn't the only way to fight, and he was finally within reach of his own designs. He had a plan, and becoming Director was a massive step in the right direction, but only a step. Giving up live combat was the cost of his dream, heavy although it may have been.

The ballroom they were in was a carefully designed projection of the ARTS, the augmented reality holography room that Archer had once used to hone his combat skills. The room still proved useful to him, even as Director. He was simply honing a different skill now. False gold curtains hung over nonexistent windows, chandeliers hung from the ceiling glimmering black and gold. None of the outside attendees realized the room was a Hologlass projection, most would have been entirely unaware Hologlass technology had advanced so far. Lies of omission weren't the worst kind of lies, after all. Archer spoke of transparency, and yet here they were, standing in a room that itself was a secret.

Once the crowd was quiet, Archer continued.

“I was out for a walk several weeks age when a young child caught sight of my brand. He approached me and asked me if I was a Collar. I said 'yes', and then he asked me another question. He asked me why. Why do I do what I do? He did not see me and automatically regard me as a hero. Gone are the days when the world is in such bad shape that bad men doing good things can be regarded as heroes. Instead, we must be good men. Unfortunately, the question the boy asked doesn't have a simple answer. Before I became director, of course, it was simple. Now things are more complicated. It isn't just that I wish to protect the people of this city, that is the same as what Canaan wished to do. It isn't about ambition or power. This city has been good to me, this world has shown me beauty and joy alongside strife and sorrow, and I have a dream of returning that favor. Aiming to protect the city and nothing more makes Collars arrogant at best, watchdogs at worst. Gone are the days when our only aim can be to keep you safe, Bastion."

A spotlight illuminated Archer, he stood stout and he spoke with confidence. The crowd remained silent, waiting to see what he was going to say next.

“I believe that the purpose of the Registry should be to support the city, to elevate it to something greater. It is time to realign the interests of the Registry with the interests of the city, and to move forward together. The Registry can no longer exist as a separate entity from the city, making choices in a vacuum and supposing them to be what is best for Bastion. Through our increased transparency, I hope that the Registry can become an organization devoted not only to protecting but to building the city up, improving the lives of every citizen in it. There are those with the fear that the Indicia have an agenda, that we are their servants, that they seek to place themselves above humanity as rulers. All I can say to that is that Indicia make us better. Not just Collars individually, but the entire human race. Back to the question the child asked me. Why do I do this? I do this because that is who I am. I'm human, and we're all in this together."

Director Archer took a step back from the podium, and the room exploded in applause. The clamor lasted for what seemed an eternity, and Archer stood under the heat of the spotlights the entire time. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he looked down at the people he had sworn to lift up, the citizens and Collars alike. They watched him, applauding, but with apprehension in their eyes. The lights on Archer began to feel like flames, apprehension began to look like judgment, which threatened to break his composure, to cause him to show his own apprehension, to reveal the deeper secrets that he had stashed away in his heart. The flames would burn him to the ground, punishing him for compromising his principles, and naught would be left but a swirling cloud of blackened ash.

 

/////

 

“Some of these new regulations are, and pardon my language, bullshit." Claire scrolled through the document on her LINK. She was standing near a gold clothed table, flanked by Oliver and Abel. Empty glasses of champagne reflected the gold tablecloth, threatening to blind everyone in the room as the lights in the house came up.

“What do you care? It isn't like most of them apply to you anyway. You're an engineer, not a Collar. You're support." Abel adjusted the cuffs on his formal uniform. The stiff edges were digging into his skin, and though it had been custom tailored, it seemed not to fit correctly. His father had sent it as a gift and the message was loud and clear. The suit didn't fit right because the job wasn't the right fit, either.

“We'll see who is more Collar, one on one, just you and me." Claire challenged, still looking at the screen of her LINK. “Oh, wait, that's against the new rules. 'Registry employees, representatives, contractors, students, and all others deemed to be under the care of the Registry shall not knowingly engage in combat between one another without official sanction and the observation of an impartial third party." She spent a whole breath reading it in a mocking tone.

“I'm sorry…wasn't it Archer and Alkaid who always started up Fight Club in the training room when we were kids?" Abel said.

“No more Fight Club?" Oliver asked. “Bummer. That's the only place Abel is likely to ever see any action."

“Thems the breaks." Claire said.

Abel bristled but couldn't think of a comeback before the conversation moved on.

“Claire still has to adhere to the same rules as us when providing support from the command center." Oliver added in Claire's defense.

“And did you happen to miss the entire chapter on command center regulations? It's as long as any two other chapters combined." Claire held her LINK to Abel's face but he pushed it away quickly.

“No thanks, I don't want to read that. Gives me plausible deniability when I break the rules I don't know about." Abel tried to take a sip from his champagne, but the glass was still empty. “I just scrolled to the end and signed it. I've spent my entire life training for this job, I'm not agreeing to new rules now just because Archer says so. We should be grandfathered in."

“That isn't how contracts word, Abel. Before you decide not to read the new regulations, maybe you should read the new consequences." Oliver took the empty glass from Abel's hand and set it back on the table.

“It'll be hard to throw one of the Registry's best in prison. A day in and they'd be begging me to come back and fix all their problems." Abel smirked, eyes lost in his daydream.

“You watch too many movies." Claire sighed and turned her LINK off, slipping it around her wrist. “That kind of attitude gets Collars dead, nothing else. Besides, you know what happened to Isaac's brother. Rufus? He was buddy buddy with Canaan, all of sudden he disappears without a trace. Isaac won't talk about it, when he is around, and don't get me started on Archer. Something weird happened there, and he was 'one of the Registry's best'." There was a note of concern in her voice that Oliver hadn't heard Claire use for Abel before. He had heard it when she was speaking to him, but they had been friends longer than she had been friends with Abel. Maybe he was growing on her.

Claire leaned back to avoid the mimed punch, and her face was soured. Okay, maybe he wasn't growing on her that much. Oliver smiled and raised an eyebrow, shrugging at her. Claire noticed this and returned with an eyeroll and a shake of her head. She'd had her auburn hair cut into a pixie style, and her drab eyes appeared as soft as ever. A floor length ball gown, slim and shimmering gold like the rest of the room, framed her body. If Oliver hadn't known better, her lack of presence and the gold color threatened to cause her to vanish into the crowd. She wasn't stunningly beautiful, but she wasn't plain. She somehow looked like anyone, rather than somebody.

“What are you staring at, Ollie?" Claire asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Nothing, I wasn't staring. There's far better eye candy in here than you." Oliver winced, expecting physical retaliation, but none came.

“Yeah, there are a lot of hot guys in here, aren't there?" Claire jabbed back, lips edging into a smirk.

[If you keep fumbling these conversations with Claire, she's going to conclude that you're gay.]

Thank you for the input. If you're such a master of chatting with women, maybe some pointers?

[Say, 'What I meant was that you're more than just something to look at.']

“What I meant was that you're more than just something to look at." Oliver repeated Vivi's words.

“What?" Oliver turned to see what she had been looking at. Standing directly behind him was their new teacher. Their original teacher had been Archer, but he had vacated that position when he took up being Director. “Oh, Canaan."

“Oliver, Abel." The former Director was wearing the same uniform as them, and he looked much the same as he had when he was Director, save for the added beard and the subtracted hand. “I was wondering, have either of you seen Isaac here tonight?"

“You mean Isaac, or Tyloki?" Abel asked.

“I mean Isaac. Tyloki wouldn't be caught dead at this gala. I know Alkaid wanted Isaac to attend, though. He'll be disappointed if Isaac doesn't show." Canaan said.

“No, I haven't seen Isaac yet, or Tyloki for that matter." Oliver said.

“How can you even tell the difference?" Abel asked, leaning on the table. “I mean, when Tyloki isn't in wolf mode."

“His eyes." Oliver said.

“Isaac has blue eyes." Canaan agreed with a nod. “Tyloki does not. Anyway, I should go find Isaac. I'd hate for him to get himself into trouble with Alkaid for not coming."

“I'll let you know if we see him on your LINK." Oliver nodded. “For what it's worth, sir, what Archer said about you…"

“Don't worry about it." Canaan waved his gloved, prosthetic hand at Oliver. “We went over the speech before he gave it. I know what my role was in all of this."

Oliver nodded and said no more. Canaan took his leave, and Oliver turned back to Abel. “What is your problem with Isaac?"

“Isaac is never around when it counts. I barely know the guy. As for Tyloki, I punched him in the face and he still won't let me take point on a mission. Sorry if I don't care for the guy." Abel said.

“We know Isaac plenty well." Oliver countered, though he couldn't come up with any specific examples.

“People are different when the cards are on the table. What do we really know about Isaac? He's reckless and emotional. Nothing wrong with that! But you have to admit he changed after the Freeman thing. Who is he now? We don't know, and we won't know until he fights along with us. Until then, Isaac is Tyloki, and that's all we know. They're the same guy, and right now I'm pissed at Tyloki. I could be every bit as good as him, if he let me. That's what my problem is." Abel said.

Oliver nodded a few times. “I understand where you're coming from, but don't forget. We don't know where Ari came from. You have to understand that we're being cautious while we figure everything out."

“I know where Ari came from." Abel stood up straighter, body tensing. “I just don't remember it happening."

“Abel, don't get mad at me. Something unusual happened, and you can't blame us for taking precautions." Oliver stood straight, not backing down from Abel's aggressive body language.

“I'm ready to fight." Abel's eyes were locked on Oliver, and they spoke volumes as to his resolve. “Whether it's a Thrall or not, I'm going to fight something soon."

“Abel…" Oliver said, but Abel had already started walking away, and he made no further attempt to stop him.

[Give him time. I haven't excluded him from my strategies because I'm worried about him. There just haven't been any plants that utilize his abilities to the fullest.]

I know. Hell, I think he knows. He's just frustrated. I do wish we knew more about Ari, though.

[Ari isn't anything to worry about, Ollie. An Indicia is an Indicia, and his heart is in the right place. Plenty of Collars have been born out of near death experiences, it isn't that unusual. Anyway, part of the reason Tyloki has been training Abel so fiercely is to help alleviate that frustration. I don't think it is working anymore, though.]

What about Isaac? Wouldn't it be better for the team if he was actually around once in awhile?

[Better for the team, better for morale. Isaac is one of the faces of the Registry right now, his image is important to Archer's reorganization. I wasn't around when Freeman attacked the Registry, but from what I've seen in your memories and heard from others, Isaac was instrumental. Not just helping save the people at InCorp, but to the events leading up to the incident as well. Isaac sacrificed something important in order to save innocent civilians. To the public eye, Isaac sided with the people, instead of with the Registry, as if they were mutually exclusive.]

I still don't quite understand exactly when Isaac got Tyloki out of the Lockbox.  He used magic at InCorp, no doubt about that, but Tyloki should've still been locked up at the time. I wish we knew more about what happened in that building.

[If we needed to know more, Isaac or Archer would tell us more.]

Maybe. So much for transparency. Either way, these new rules we have to deal with are a direct result of that incident, and I can't help but want to know what exactly happened.

Realizing that he'd been staring at the wall in the midst of his internal conversation, Oliver brought his senses back to the ballroom. His drink was empty and his friends had left. With a sigh, he decided that the mood for a party had left him, and he began to make his way through the crowd towards the exit.

 

/////

 

“The answer is no." Everett cleared his throat to make sure he was understood.

“But…!" Shir said, taking a step back, defeated. Unlike the other attendees, who were dressed in formal attire and were also human, Shir was wearing his guard uniform. He was de facto security for an event attended in good majority by powerful magic users.

In other words, there wasn't much for him to do. He had spent the time so far trying to find some entertainment. Everett had posted himself up in the corner of the room, away from the crowds, visible but appearing to be of little consequence. The broad soldier of a man looked funny in the Registry dress uniform, it didn't suit him as well as it suited the slimmer members of the organization. Shir had spent awhile now trying to help, hoping to convince Everett to get out of the unbecoming uniform entirely.

“Where's this loyalty to Archer coming from?" Shir inquired. “Everyone and their Indicia knows that you were a frontrunner for Director. That was why you were loyal to Canaan, right? Now, unless Archer kicks the bucket early, your chances are pretty much shot. It's like your career is over."

Everett gazed past Shir, keeping his eyes fixed on the crowd. “My loyalty comes from the fact that I like my job. Director would have been nice, but I believe in Archer's vision, too. He asked me to keep my eye on things, to give him my support. That is what I intend to do. So no, I won't take a quick break with you."

Shir rolled his eyes and wheeled around to look at the crowd. It was time to find another mark and try again. The sabertooth didn't like putting effort into things that didn't pan out, but Everett was being stubborn. The man's mood had been sour since Archer's appointment to Director, his speech began to sound like a script, and Shir had only hoped to lighten it up a bit.

Everett watched Shir's tail swish as he walked away. The cat was only trying to have some fun, he knew that much, and he harbored no ill will towards the Indicia. He did have a job to do, and he took his job seriously. In fact, he had started to take it more seriously now that Archer was Director. It was a turbulent time, and they needed strong people with solid resolve to keep it all together. Archer was strong, but Everett wondered if he had what it took to live up to Canaan. He swirled his drink in his glass, listening to the ice clinking.

The particular person he had been keeping his eyes on was in the opposite corner of the room, alone at a corner table much like Everett was. They had both seen each other, and were both keeping an eye on each other, at least when the crowd parted enough to provide a quick glance. This time, when the crowd parted, the man was gone.

Shit.

Everett moved quickly, pushing his way brusquely through the crowd. As he went, he tried to find where the man had vanished to, but chances were he wouldn't be able to see him at all.

[I saw him get away while you were distracted by Shir.]

Great, want to tell me where he went?

[It was your job to watch him, not mine.]

Really, Bayard?

[He just went out to the atrium, he's standing on the balcony talking to one of the new Collars. Also, Shir is right. We should be looking at the other cities. You could still be Director of Citadel.]

Everett changed his trajectory. If the man he was following was in the atrium, that was where he needed to be. Keeping eyes on him was important, losing him for a minute could lead to a lot of problems. How long had he been gone? Once out of the ballroom and into the dim hallway, Everett felt the oppressive weight of the sea of people lift off of him. Able to breathe easier, he hurried down the hallway towards the atrium.

The door to the atrium shifted and opened as Everett approached. He had to take a step back to avoid colliding with the man. Wearing a classic gray suit, dark hair slicked back with copious amounts of product, the man looked out of place and time. He stepped aside, graciously allowing Everett to pass him. If Everett took the man's courtesy and went through the door, it would give the man an opportunity to escape. If he didn't, it would be too obvious he was following the man. Instead, Everett dispensed with the subterfuge and took the direct route.

“Jensen. You know you can't be walking around the Registry unsupervised."

“With all the Indicia here, not to mention the big brother cameras, I agree, you simply can't be unobserved at the Registry." Jensen smirked. “I have to ask, are there cameras in the bathrooms? The showers?"

Jensen was the leader of the city's unregistered Collars, known as Vassals. He had risen to the position after the death of Freeman, their previous leader. Everett let him pass into the hallway, heading back towards the ballroom. “Trust me, if anything goes wrong tonight, even if we didn't see it happen, I'd assume it was you."

“You're going to be my escort tonight?" Jensen crooked his elbow so he could lock arms with Everett.

Everett crossed his arms and gave Jensen a look that told him it wasn't a time to be making jokes.

“Okay, I know the Registry and the Vassals don't always get along. I know you think I've been secretly plotting for two years to...what? What is my goal, exactly? How could I plan for an endgame that I don't even have?" Jensen started walking, slowly.

“If you didn't have a plan, you'd be registered. The only reason we haven't arrested you tonight is because you keep the uppity Vassals down. That doesn't mean you aren't a criminal, and that doesn't mean I don't want to arrest you." Everett said.

“I keep the uppity Vassals down. Yeah. I prevent conflict. That's all I want, to prevent conflict. In the two years since I've been leading the Vassals, how many major incidents have there been? None." Jensen said.

“Because they all died or got arrested at InCorp." Everett said.

Jensen let out a cartoonish sigh. “I came tonight because I was curious about Director Archer's new...direction. Depending on how it goes, who knows what sort of truce we could come to."

“I doubt it." Everett had never been a fan of the Vassals. After Freeman, his opinion had only lowered.

“How about you worry about the real criminals and let me enjoy the party? You know, the murderers that you all let free two years ago." Jensen glanced sideways to see what sort of reaction he could get out of Everett.

Everett kept his face from showing how he felt, but he definitely felt it. It was true, Chase had let killers go, and people had died because of it. Working with Claire to find the escaped criminals was slow, and people were still dying in the meantime. “Jensen, what were you doing out in the atrium?"

“Getting some fresh air. Everything in here feels so stagnant. Strange...given all the talk about change." Jensen let himself back into the party, and Everett kept his eyes on the Vassal as he went.

Archer had instructed Everett to leave Jensen alone so long as the Vassals were under control. They didn't need to go after the organization when there were bigger fish to fry. Everett didn't like it, but he did as he was told. That didn't mean he wouldn't keep an eye on Jensen. If there was a chance the Vassals were sheltering the escaped criminals, he needed to investigate it.

Jensen was right, though. Even amidst all the changes, things had been stagnant. Everett had a feeling that wouldn't be true for long.

 

/////

 

[That went well. They're really eating out of our hands.]

If they knew how much I was lying to them…

[But they don't, and they never will. Archer, you're the big man in charge now. With what we've got at our disposal, it's pretty much impossible for anyone to get the drop on us.]

Except Freeman.

[I was looking in a different direction because of Isaac. You may not be as bookish as Canaan was, but you're more tactically minded. He was obedient, and I can tell already you're going to be a handful. I can also see that you understand why I do things the way I do, and you don't intend to rock the boat.]

Rock the boat...Chase, life is simple. Or it was. Good, bad, right, wrong. I've never even had to think about it. In the two years since I became Director, that notion is right out the window.

[I'll hold back my ironic chuckle. Archer, what is it you want?]

You know, so why ask?

[Because humans have a habit of lying to themselves. If you hear yourself say it, it's harder to believe that lie.]

I want to make the world a better place. Even if it is already a good place, I never want to stop making it better.

[Alright, that's an admirable goal. Just think about the fact that you said you want to make the world better. Not more good. Not more right. You chose the word better.]

“Distracted there, handsome?" A female voice snapped Archer out of his thoughts and back to the ballroom. The lights had lowered in the past few minutes, signalling that the night was getting on. Many of the guests would be taking their leave soon, and many of the Collars would be moving to after parties elsewhere in the Registry. Private after parties.

In the dim light, the tall woman in front of him was the only thing that wasn't a silhouette. She had shapely legs, shown off the slit cut down the side of her dress. The dress itself was black and purple, not in any pattern but somehow evoking the imagery of a richly detailed night sky, minus the stars. Lengthy hair bounced over her shoulders as she moved, and she crossed her arms impatiently.

The slight flush to Archer's cheeks proved that he hadn't been called handsome by a woman in quite some time. “Sorry, lots to think about when you're Director."

The woman smirked, raising her eyebrows in feigned astonishment. “Director? Well forgive me if I get the vapors."

“People usually show a bit more deference than that." Archer crossed his arms in return.

“Sorry, I've just had a bit much to drink tonight." The woman had cinnamon skin and sparkling green eyes. Her dark hair was nearly the same color as her skin. There was something striking about her. Something familiar.

“Who hasn't? I'll fight an army single handed, but politics? That's a real challenge." Archer said. “Director Archer, pleasure you meet you…"

The woman held out her hand daintily to let Archer give her a proper greeting. “Tanalia. Tanalia Baht."

Archer took her hand in his and shook it gently. He couldn't place what made Tanalia familiar, but she seemed to be just on the edge of his mind.

Chase, root around in my memories. See if you can find her.

[Right away, any excuse to go diving.]

“Is there anything I can do for you, Mrs. Baht?" Archer asked.

“Just Tanalia, please. And it's Ms. Baht. You can call me Lady Baht if you'd like, but that'd just be fulfilling a fantasy of mine." Tanalia did a fake swoon, lost in her own daydreams for a moment. “And I was hoping to find a moment to talk to you about a project that is currently underway."

“A project? I can't say I'm not interested. Do you represent the city council?" Archer asked.

“I represent…" Tanalia started, but she stopped when someone approached them. “Perhaps we can finish the conversation later, in private, Director."

“Nonsense. Victor is no harm." Archer said, but Tanalia had already left. “Enjoying the party, Doctor?"

Doctor Noether watched Tanalia leave, and then turned back to Archer. “I am. I hope I didn't just ruin your enjoyment, too."

“No, don't worry about her." Archer shook his head slightly to push away his concerns about Tanalia. She was something he could deal with later. “People seem to be responding positively to the new setup."

“I'd agree with that assessment." Victor smiled broadly. “It's nice to get a chance to do something important with my life."

“I hope to be able to say that soon enough." Archer chuckled, and Victor joined him in laughter. “If you'll excuse me, Victor, I think I see Harland Sharp over there. Improving our relationship with InCorp is important."

Victor rankled his nose at the mention of the company. “They held me captive. Forgive me if I keep my distance."

“I understand. It's a delicate situation, that's true. I'm working on it, though." Archer clasped the doctor on his shoulder. “Trust me."

Making his way across the room, Archer couldn't shake Tanalia from his mind. She was too central to something important for him to be able to forget her, but he simply couldn't remember her. Various people stopped for quick chats as he went, constantly distracting him from his thoughts about the woman.

Any luck?

[Your thoughts are just all over the place right now. Every time I get close, I end up somewhere else entirely. Still working on it.]

Archer found Harland Sharp, the public face of InCorp, in the middle of a conversation with a newcomer to the Registry, a man by the name of Felix. Felix was the Registry's own public relations specialist, brought on to help smooth over the sharper edges that had grown between the Registry and other entities, namely the city of Bastion and InCorp. In a way, Harland and Felix had the same jobs, so finding them talking was hardly a surprise. Harland was getting on in age, his hair was graying, but it didn't seem to bother him. Felix, on the other hand, was a sleek youth with ink black hair and a baby face. At first glance, most would dismiss Felix, but once he got talking, he could talk almost anyone into almost anything. Hell, he'd convinced Archer to hire him, after all. He reminded Archer of Riley, especially considering Riley's power had been so similar to the skill that came to Felix so naturally. He didn't need magic to be persuasive.

A small bit of heartache washed over Archer as he thought of Riley, of everything that had happened after Freeman took Rain away.

[Could you stop being so emotional? One second I'm looking for Tanalia, the next I'm back in the memory where you gave Riley the boot.]

I didn't...okay. Just keep looking.

Archer shooed away the memories of sitting in the hallway next to Isaac and Canaan, waiting for Riley to come out of the ARTS chamber. Even the thick metal walls hadn't been enough to drown out the cries. It had been a long day.

“Next time, we'll throw the party at our place." Harland offered jovially.

I think we already did that. A lot of people died. Archer bit his tongue. “That'd be grand. It's a shame President Parker couldn't attend tonight. I do have some things I'd like to talk with him about."

“He regrets that he couldn't come, but I don't." Harland smiled and took a drink. “Boy is a stick in the mud with a stick up its ass. He doesn't know how to have fun."

“I was just discussing with Harland how we hope to begin some joint ventures with InCorp in the near future, really make the city a more fun place." Felix's voice was husky but not deep. He was wearing the Registry uniform, and it looked good on him, even if he looked like a teenager trying on his father's clothes.

“Fun, now that I can get behind. Of course, anything we discuss will have to go by Parker." Harland frowned and took another drink.

“Understandable." Archer nodded. “There was definitely too much tension between the Registry and InCorp under previous leadership. I really hope we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement."

[Got it. I know where you know Tanalia from.]

 

/////

 

As the party went on without him, Abel leaned on the railing over the atrium, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. He expected the adults to underestimate him, but he thought that Oliver, of all people, would understand.

[He does understand, Abel.]

Abel ignored Ari, looking down at the descending floors of the atrium. His fist felt heavy. He slammed it into the railing. The sound echoed through the immense chamber, mocking Abel as much as his so called friends were. Ari appeared beside Abel, face to face with him but upside down. The lion was doing a handstand on the railing, legs in the air above him. He wasn't wearing the required new uniform that the Indicia were supposed to wear if they were in attendance at the party, but they technically weren't at the party anymore, so it was probably okay.

“We can find something to punch if it'll help." Ari said.

“It isn't that. At first, it was that. Now I feel like they don't trust me." Abel said.

“Then we'll make them trust us." Ari smiled an upside down smile, taking one hand off of the railing, supporting himself with a single paw.

Abel smiled back. “Careful, you wouldn't want to fall. I don't think anyone would survive that."

Ari shrugged his free arm. “It'll be fine."

“Something wrong?" A man came out of the hallway and approached the railing. He had the mark of a Collar, but Abel didn't recognize him. He was wearing a suit, not one of the Registry uniforms. “Sorry, stranger danger. I'm Jensen."

“Jensen." Abel stood straight, taking his weight off the railing. “You're the Vassal guy, aren't you?"

“The Vassal guy." Jensen mulled it over. “I mean, if you want to reduce me to a single thing, then sure. I'm much more than that, though."

“I didn't think they'd let a Vassal come to the party." Abel said.

“Vassals generally do what they want. Within reason, of course. What's got you so down? DId your puppy Indicia get kicked?" Jensen leaned casually on the railing next to Abel.

“No, it's just that, well, I don't get to do what I want. I'm a fighter, you know, like a warrior. But the rules say I'm not allowed." Abel explained.

“Not allowed to fight? I thought that was the entire purpose of this place. Did I miss opposite day?" Jensen looked around the atrium, took a deep breath and held it in for a moment. “I can't stay long. Just stepped out to catch my breath. I will say this, if you aren't allowed to do what you want here, have you considered going where you can?"

“What do you mean?" Abel asked.

“Ignore him." Ari said.

Abel held out his hand and shoved Ari off the railing. The lion roared as he began to fall and then blinked away.

“All I mean is that you should find a place where you're comfortable. If the place you are says 'no', go somewhere that says 'yes'." Jensen said. He stretched his arm over his head and started back towards the door to the ballroom hallway.

Abel leaned on the railing a few minutes more before he went back to his room. He spent the time thinking about where it was he wanted to be.

 

/////

 

Hours before, when the sun had only just begun to set, Isaac was sitting on a rooftop in Lowtown, watching the row of mailboxes that lined the building across the street. The gala would be starting soon, and Alkaid had made it clear that he was supposed to show up. Still, the event would last hours, and Isaac would have no trouble arriving before it completely ended.

Before climbing onto the rooftop, Isaac had dropped an envelope in a specific mailbox, and now he was waiting to see what would happen when it was discovered. He swung his legs impatiently, having expected the mail to be retrieved much sooner. Time passed, the sun lowered and bathed the sky in twilight. Isaac waited, eyes fixed on the mailbox, unable to go elsewhere even if he had wanted.

In the past two years, Isaac had come to realize that he had undertaken certain obligations, though he hadn't been aware of it at the time. One of those obligations was finding Miria, which he spend most of every day doing. He wandered the other world, talking to Indicia and looking for the same landscape he had last seen Miria at. The other obligation sat in front of him in the form of a mailbox.

Isaac had been turned into a folk hero, a hero of the people, not the Registry. It was something Isaac personally wanted nothing to do with, but he understood the importance of the role. Because of that, while he spent time attending to his own affairs, like searching for Miria, Tyloki would take control of his body and live out the life of the hero that Isaac was supposed to be. It worked for both of them. Isaac didn't have to interact with Tyloki often, his body could be put to use saving people, a cause to which he had dedicated his life, and it gave him the time he needed to find Miria.

Not every Indicia could take direct control of their Collar's body, but it worked for Tyloki and Isaac. Perhaps it was a side effect of the Lifebond that they shared, the unusual connection that would cause them both to die if only one of them died. The Lifebond itself was a mystery, something new that they had to come up with a name for. It appeared to have occurred in the aftermath of the Burnout that Isaac had performed shortly after first joining with Tyloki, but in truth, no one knew for sure.

A man shambled down the street, frail and weak, with bloodshot eyes and little coordination. He had dark skin, black hair, and green eyes that shined, though they were glazed over with indifference and inebriation. A stumble here or there made Isaac worry that the man would fall, but he managed to keep his balance. The man didn't know that Isaac was watching him.

The sight weighed heavily on Isaac, one of the few things that could cool the fire that had lit in his stomach on the day Freeman attacked InCorp two years prior. It made him feel helpless, like the child he had been before, unable to run away or fight, unable to do anything at all. Little made Isaac feel like ending his own life quite like watching his old friend stumble drunkenly down the street. Mostly, Isaac had moved past his suicidal feelings, but this brought him closer to feeling how he used to feel.

Since the day that Rain had died, Riley and Isaac hadn't spoken. Riley told Isaac to stay away from him, but that was something Isaac was unable to do. Isaac's vow was to not leave anyone behind in the darkness, including Riley, so he obeyed his friend's order to leave him alone, but that didn't mean he wrote him off completely.

Riley stopped for a moment in front of the mailboxes and fumbled in his pocket for the key. It was an old fashioned box with a real metal key, no biometrics or scanning involved. Isaac would have thought it suited Riley perfectly, what with his penchant for old fashioned movies and technology, but since Rain died, Riley didn't have a penchant for anything except alcohol. Some of the letters dropped onto the ground as he pulled the stack out, and he left them there. Isaac could see that the one he had deposited was still in Riley's hand, so he didn't need to intervene.

Rifling through the letters, Riley tossed any of the ones he didn't like the look of on the ground. Most of it was junk mail, but some were probably bills. Most mail, junk or otherwise, had been completely digitized years ago. Riley didn't keep any active forms of communication on any computers, so companies were willing to indulge in a little old fashioned postal service if it meant reaching an otherwise unreachable customer. RIley stopped when he found Isaac's envelope.

Isaac sat forward with bated breath. Riley inspected the white paper, found that it had no identifying marks on it at all. He tore the edge off entirely, and slipped out the small chit that was inside. Immediately, he understood what it was and why it was there. On the credit chit was all of the pay Isaac had received from the Registry in the past two years. Money wasn't important to him, and he didn't need it anyway. He'd gotten a substantial payoff from InCorp after his father died on the job, so he decided to give the money to Riley instead. It was the least he could do to try and help.

Riley looked around, possibly expecting to find Isaac watching him from the shadows. He didn't look up, which was just plain bad form, and so he didn't see Isaac watching from the rooftop. It didn't matter. Riley took the credit chit in his fist and threw it as far as he could manage down the street. Isaac swallowed, something blocked his throat. Perhaps he had expected some resistance from Riley, but he hadn't expected him to throw the money away so readily. So quickly.

On the follow through of the throw, Riley's foot slipped out from under him and he stumbled forward, falling onto his face. Isaac wanted desperately to go help him. He wanted to fix him. He also knew that his efforts would just cause more problems. Riley slowly stood and slammed his mailbox shut. Several of the letters that had dropped onto the ground were at his feet, he picked them up and shambled to the door of the building.

Before he entered, he turned around and addressed Isaac, wherever he may have been. “I told you to leave me the fuck alone!"

[I told you to leave him alone.]

Oh, shut up.

 

/////

 

It wasn't until most of the guests had already left that the lights of the ballroom dimmed, signalling for the stragglers to move along as well. Archer had wanted to leave early, to deal with Tanalia swiftly, but it turned out she had left the gala after her conversation with him. Whatever she wanted, it probably wasn't good news, and Archer wanted to stay on top of it. It would have to wait until later, at any rate. A short argument with Chase was enough to convince Archer that his duties at the gala superseded his worries over Tanalia.

As the last of the guests shuffled out, Archer wiped his brow, and let his posture slide ever so slightly. He was a tall man with strong shoulders, but nothing exhausted him like playing politics. After making sure that the cleanup was being tended to, he finally took his own leave from the ballroom. He nearly shouted when he was ambushed by Claire in the hallway. Flustered, he didn't even hear what she said to him in greeting. He didn't stop walking, whatever she wanted to say could honestly wait until he'd had some rest, but she kept pace with him.

“I want to go on a mission with them." Claire said for the hundredth time since Archer had assigned her as Isaac's team handler.

“No." Archer sighed exasperatedly, also for the hundredth time.

“It's different this time." Claire had something she wanted to say, and it was threatening to spill before Archer even asked.

“In what way?" He humored her.

“I think I've found one of our escapees." Claire beamed.

“Oh yeah? You 'think'?" Archer asked, hoping against hope that Claire wouldn't follow him all the way into the atrium. Of course she did, though.

“I don't know the exact locations, but I have it narrowed down to a few acres of the Brink just outside the city." Claire explained.

“Even if you knew exactly where he was, even if he was downstairs in the lobby, Claire…" Archer stopped and stooped down so he could look Claire in the eyes. “I wouldn't let you go fight him. You are a strong girl, I'll admit that every time, but Vassal, Collar, Acolyte, or Thrall, any one of them would tear you to pieces. You're a civilian add-on, Claire. That is all. You're a handler."

“That's the thing. I don't want to fight. I want to go as a handler. The region where he is has an extensive cave system, our comms might not work there. It would be better if I were on site to handle directly." Claire was undaunted by Archer's stooping.

“Send the data to me, I'll look it over and decide how to approach when I have time." Archer said.

“Does that mean there is a chance?" Claire was leaning back and forth, practically bouncing on the spot.

Archer cocked an eyebrow and stepped into the elevator. Claire knew better than to follow him. She was still wiggling hopefully on the other side when the doors closed. Before he could return to his office, Archer had something else he needed to check up on. The elevator moved to the new Command Center. This time of night, it was empty, soft lights flickering so that it wasn't pitch black. The side doorway that left to Dr. Noether's lab had light snaking out from underneath, either Noether was still at work or Renton hadn't gone to sleep yet. Either was, Archer was unlikely to be disturbed.

At the back of the Command Center was a door that ostensibly led to a maintenance access room. It was unassuming and no one ever really questioned what was back there. Only a few people had clearance to open it, and Archer was surprised that Claire or Renton had never come asking about it. The first thing that Archer had learned as Director was that a Director had necessary secrets. It was the only way it could all work. It wasn't simple, and Archer didn't have a taste for it, but if it meant he could fulfill his goals, he could put up with it.

Through the maintenance-door-that-wasn't was a short hallway leading to another, similarly unnoteworthy door. Archer unlocked the door using his personal Aer signature as a key, and the hatch slid open. Inside was a small-scale replica of the Hologlass room that the gala had taken place in. At current, the hologram was set to display all of the walls as images of deep space. It was disorienting, stepping out into the endless abyss of stars and nebulae, but shoe landed firmly on solid ground despite the bottomless appearance of the floor.

Starlight twinkled in the distance, gasses danced an endless watch, unaffected by the troubles of the tiny people on their small planet. Archer felt like he could fall through the floor, fall for an eternity, never landing anywhere, because where wasn't anywhere he belonged. Space wasn't black, but instead a rich vibrancy, black included but ranging almost every other known color. The stars were still but seemed to be shifting, burning, growing, and bursting infinitely. If one were to burn out, another would grow to take its place elsewhere. The universe was never ended, Archer was sure of it. The universe was the only thing that was never ending.

“An ocean folding in on itself, it seems endless and finite."

Archer turned his gaze to the back of the hologram chamber, where a frail human body sat cross legged on the floor. He'd been sitting, losing himself in space, until Archer had entered. Now they were two stars passing each other in the night.

“How is he doing today?" Archer kept his distance, staying by the door.

“Endless on its own, finite by hand." The frail man said, the Collar brand on his neck shimmering softly.

An Indicia materialized next to him, leaning against the back wall, looking at Archer floating in space. A canine of some sort that Archer wasn't familiar with, the Indicia had tan and cream fur, at least as far as could be seen showing from his outfit. Unlike most other Indicia, this one was fully clothed, wearing jeans and a loose fitting button down shirt. His eyes were as bright as the stars.

“He's quieter than usual." The canine nodded, glancing only shortly at the frail man.

“No outbursts?" Archer asked, taking a step closer.

“Didn't say that. Just said quieter." The canine answered.

“I was heading to bed soon, I wanted to make sure he was doing okay." Archer explained, although the explanation was unnecessary.

“The stars are going out, one by one, over millennia." The frail man whispered. “Someday, nothing. Only silence. SIlence and white. And one."

“Any idea what he is talking about?" Archer asked, and his only answer was a shrug from the canine.

“One last star, one. Alone in a nightmare, chased by nightmares. Inescapable. Hopeless. Broken." The frail man started to sound more frantic in his speech.

The canine took a knee next to him and placed his paws on the man's shoulders. “Hobbs, calm down. You're losing control again." He whispered soothingly.

“All things, all places, reduced to a singular nightmare. Control isn't what I'm losing, it's hope. We all lose hope. We all lose everything! Someday. Everything is gone. Alone." Hobbs, the frail man on the floor, began to shake and shout, and the canine kept his paws firmly but calmly on his shoulders. “Alone! You're burning alive, the fire will consume you, and you will fail!" Hobbs yelled, and Archer was glad that the walls were soundproofed. The room was remote enough that even if they weren't, no one would be around to hear, but it didn't hurt to take precautions.

The canine pulled Hobbs forward, wrapped his arms under his armpits, and trapped him in a hug. Hobbs struggled and screamed, no longer saying words but merely making guttural, primal noises. After a minute, Hobbs calmed and the canine was able to loosen his grip, though he kept Hobbs in the hug.

The frail man breathed haggardly, and as he calmed, he began to whisper again. “Remember."

“Remember what?" Archer asked.

“You got me. I could go diving in there, but I don't think I'd be able to figure out much. It's a mess. So much for quiet, anyway." The canine said, letting Hobbs go.

“Remember." Hobbs whispered urgently.

“Do you need help feeding him or getting him washed?" Archer asked, hoping that the canine would say yes, as helping with Hobbs' needs would at least assuage a little of his guilt.

“No thanks." The canine gave a quick salute. “It's my responsibility. I did this to him. If I hadn't…" The canine couldn't look at Archer or Hobbs, so he stared off into space.

“You didn't do this, Koda. The Index did." Archer explained, but it was an argument he'd had many times since becoming Director, since he'd discovered Hobbs and Koda.

“Kind of the same thing." Koda chuckled without humor. His eyes glistened.

“Remember." Hobbs said, and for a moment, they all were silent.

The hologlass room that Hobbs lived in was one of the most secure rooms of the Registry. Getting in required that you be given clearance, or cut your way through several Aer reinforced doors or walls. Even Jensen couldn't have phased his way through. Of course, even if the room was secure, Archer needed to be able to check in on Hobbs remotely, so hidden discreetly in the corner of the room was a camera. It wasn't hooked up to the rest of the security system, it directed a feed to Archer's computer or LINK, and nowhere else. For any normal person, it would have been impossible to intercept the feed.

The feed was flickering on a screen nearby as a curious onlooker hoped to learn exactly what Archer was hiding in the room behind the Command Center. Any normal person wouldn't have been able to gain access to the feed. As it happened, Renton wasn't a normal person. He was a Collar. Fingers placed on the Lightglass keyboard, the brand on his neck glowed as he used his power to spy on Archer through the otherwise inaccessible camera. He didn't know what he was looking at. An Indicia and a Collar he had never seen before. With no idea whether it was a prison or something else, Renton could only make assumptions. No matter what it actually was, it was a secret. Secrets held leverage, secrets gave power. His lips spread thin into a smirk as he watched. He shook his leg, still not used to the weight of the ankle band they used to keep him in line.

Secrets were exactly what he needed to get them to take it off.

 

/////

 

Gazing at space from quite a bit further away, Oliver adjusted the focus on his telescope to get a better view. It was a custom telescope that had been designed by Renton to help drown out the noise pollution of the city and give a clearer view of space. An unexpected gift, but no less appreciated. Abel insisted it was an attempt by Renton to manipulate Oliver into liking him, but Oliver wasn't sure that was different from any other type of friendship.

Attached to the telescope was Oliver's LINK, which was mapping the stars as he got a good look at them. There were other star maps available, but Oliver wanted to make his own. He would be sure of any mistakes, and he would become more personally familiar with the landscape of the lights in the sky. The telescope was set up on the roof of an adjacent building to the Registry, as the tower itself had no outdoor balconies or platforms to put it on. On his secluded rooftop, Oliver expected to be alone for the rest of the night. Abel was still pissed at him, and he was too embarrassed about how he felt about Claire to be around her.

“Thought I'd find you here." Claire startled Oliver as she climbed up the side of the building using the fire escape.

Oliver himself had gotten permission from the building owner to use the roof for his telescope, so he reached the roof through normal means, rather than the fire escape. Claire always liked to go about doing things her own way, though. It would make her a good handler, adaptive to complex and quickly changing situations.

“What happened to the gala?" Oliver asked, turning to look at Claire.

Her hair had been ruffled up, what little hair there was, and she wasn't standing as tall and proper as she had been at the party. FInally, she looked like Claire again, and Oliver felt less anxious. He let out his breath subtly.

“It's over. Everyone went home." Claire plopped down on the edge of the rooftop, sitting with her legs splayed out.

“That good, huh?" Oliver asked.

[May I remind you that you like this girl?]

Don't need a reminder, Vivi.

“I tried to talk Director Archer into letting me go with you guys on your missions again, handle from onsite." Claire explained, and her expression told Oliver everything else he'd need to know.

“I managed to piss off Abel." Oliver offered in exchange. “Not a difficult task, obviously, but still the highlight of my night."

[Until you showed up.]

“Until you showed up." Oliver added.

Claire gave Oliver a stupid grin, and it made him look away, flushed.

“Either way, I don't think Archer is going to let you come with us. Ever." Oliver said, turning his attention back to his telescope.

“I think you're right." Claire slumped forward. “I just think about you guys out there by yourself, and it isn't fair. You might die, and all I can do is watch from the Registry. I'd at least like to be able to hold your hand when you die, if not die with you."

Oliver raised an eyebrow and glanced sideways at her. “No one is going to die."

“Be real, Ollie. Collars die. Even with the new rules, even with the Command Center, even with handlers, Collars die. Sooner or later." Claire said, though she didn't sound defeated in this, only pragmatic.

Oliver shrugged. “I guess you're right, yeah."

The pair settled into a comfortable silence, neither needing to speak. They both thought, and they knew they were thinking of the same things, and that was enough. Oliver mapped the stars, and Claire watched the heavens expectantly. The stars moved lazily through the sky, imperceptible but no less steadily. Claire yawned loudly, and Oliver did as well.

“Almost time to head in, I think." Claire suggested.

“Just have to map a bit more." Oliver said.

“I know you've always been kind of a star nerd, but remind me what this is all about again." Claire said.

“I decided to make a star map when I noticed…" Oliver began.

“'Sup guys." Abel practically launched himself over the edge of the building, nearly kicking Claire in the head as he passed. She leaned to the side and managed to avoid it.

“Abel." Oliver said, turning from the telescope.

“Claire. Ollie." Abel said, arms crossed confidently over his chest.

“Did you want something?" Oliver asked, gesturing that he was busy with the telescope.

“I was talking with someone, and I had time to think. Look, Oliver, I'm sorry I got mad and stormed off. I know you're not the bad guy. We, all of us," Abel looked at Claire so she would be included, “are the new generation of Collars. We were in school together, we're still together. We've got a unity that those that came before us never dreamed of. So we can't let petty things come between us, right?"

Claire and Oliver gave Abel blank stares.

“Ari came up with all of that, didn't he?" Oliver asked.

“Well, yeah. Doesn't make it any less true, though." Abel punched a fist into his other hand emphatically.

“Should've known." Claire stood up, dusted herself off.

“Yeah, well, Oliver's flirting is actually Vivi." Abel said.

“I know." Claire winked at Oliver. “I'm going to bed. I'll see you boys tomorrow."

After Claire climbed down the side of the building, Oliver started to pack up his telescope. “Abel, I know that you're frustrated. You're a fighter, and you don't get to fight. Living a life with no fighting is worse than dying in a fight, right?"

“Well, I don't know if I'd go that far. I don't think I'm going to die." Abel said.

“Anyway, I thought of a solution." Oliver walked over to Abel and pointed a finger at his own cheek. “Punch me. Right in the face."

Abel started to swing without hesitation, and Oliver put up his arms to block. “Jeez, I didn't think you'd actually do it!"

[I told you he would.]

“You told me to hit you!" Abel complained.

“You were supposed to say 'No, I couldn't do that.'" Oliver grumbled.

Abel smiled and chuckled, balled his hand into a fist and slowly put it against Oliver's cheek in a mock punch. He pressed hard enough to turn Oliver's head to the side and then lowered his fist down. Oliver held out his own fist, and Abel tapped his knuckles against it.

“What if we made our own plan? Claire would be in charge of it, Vivi could come up with it. The only person out of the loop would be Tyloki." Oliver offered.

“Could get dangerous." Abel smirked.

“Being a Collar is dangerous." Oliver smiled as he finished putting away his telescope.

 

/////

 

By the time that Isaac got into his dress uniform and reached the ballroom, it was nearly empty. Only one person was left inside, though it wasn't a person at all. The lights were dim but not completely out, and Alkaid stood in the center of the ballroom, tapping his paw on the floor. The cat looked adorable in his dress uniform, but Isaac thought Alkaid looked good in anything. Or in nothing, for that matter. He couldn't make out Alkaid's face in the darkness, but something told him it wasn't smiling.

“A little late." Alkaid said.

“Sorry?" Isaac offered helplessly as he cleared the distance between him and Alkaid.

“Where were you?" Alkaid asked. “I asked you to be here. I wanted to dance."

“Sorry, I got held up checking on Riley." Isaac said.

“Isaac…" Alkaid sighed. “Miria, Riley…" The cat closed his eyes.

It was an argument they'd had before, and both of them knew where it led. They didn't want to go any further down that path, so any time it came up, they let it go. Alkaid wanted Isaac to let go of the past and move on, Isaac knew he couldn't do that. They silence was cloying, oppressive in its weight. Isaac put his hand on Alkaid's upper arm.

“I'm sorry. I'll do better, I promise." Isaac said.

Alkaid smiled toothily up at Isaac. “There's still time for that dance."

Instead of talking, Isaac and Alkaid danced in the darkness, the only music they could hear was in their own heads.

 

/////

 

Archer leaned forward on his desk, hands on his face. He ran his fingers back through his hair, took a deep breath, and then shook his head. Finally, there was time to rest. He'd been busy for months, and he would continue to be busy, but he understood now why Canaan would disappear to his office and desire to be undisturbed.

His rest was interrupted by the intercom. “Director Archer, there is a woman here to see you. Tanalia Baht, she says you are expecting her."

Archer let his forehead fall on the desk.

“Sir? Should I send her away?"

“No, send her in." Archer had wanted to get his talk with Tanalia out of the way, so it was convenient that she'd come to him. Though it was the middle of the night, and he would've preferred to go to sleep. Maybe the chat would be quick.

The door to the office opened and Tanalia walked in, heels clacking on the hard floors as she spanned the long distance to the desk. Archer took the time to make himself look more presentable, and he sat up in his chair, attempting to look like he deserved the station of Director.

“Archer. Director Archer." Tanalia smirked as she reached the desk. “Judging by the look on your face, you remember who I am now. Honestly, I'm hurt that you could forget. But enough of that, I've come here for a reason."

“What reason is that, Lady Baht?" Archer asked, fingers laced, hands resting on his desk.

“I have an offer. Something that I think you'll be interested in. Something that is going to change the world." Tanalia said.

Archer leaned forward slightly. “I'm listening."