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."