Lotus

Chapter Three: Premonition

Returning the gesture to her husband, Meydem scurried down the hall, greeting her surrounding compatriots with every turn. The main hall wasn't too far from their current location, and Stanislaw told them to 'get situated' before coming to the main meeting. He assumed that meant going to their armory or getting their hands on whatever they needed to do.

Vorion guessed that the reason they got an earlier preface was simply so they could prepare. Stanislaw knew that if it had been any other mission, the two would've been more imprudent toward the situation, as they usually were. It was good they warned them beforehand, had they embarked on something so essential without the proper equipment, he had no doubt in his mind that their failure became all that more probable.

Tension beat within his chest, the louder-than-ever chatter drowning underneath the engulfing silence ringing within his ears.

...There it was.

There was the revolting feeling in his gut, the strenuous burden of the world's indifference that empowered his very being. The circumstance of toil paved the way for his ascension once again, but like before, the source was indiscernible. Perhaps the trepidation palpable within the government body, pervaded amongst their stifled words and actions?

No, that wasn't all...

Vorion felt the hairs on his skin bristle, shuttering between his labored breaths. He felt his body burn with unprecedented might, the wicked grace of the world reflecting through his blazing soul and into his body. His shining eyes burned brighter, a deep crimson color coursing through his irises.

The roots of iniquity dug deeper than that. Vorion's senses daunted him in the back of his mind, a tingling sensation of dread ensnaring his temperament. This was different from before. Vorion's immediate conjecture was that it stemmed from the quarrel revolving The Havoc Force, yet it still felt different.

Slowly exhaling, Vorion trudged toward the armory, his silent grumbles and groans rumbling within his core.

The tumultuous voices all around spiraled into a cacophony of fear, hope, excitement, and worry. It churned his mind, the surge of emotion and foreboding thoughts smashing together into an abhorrent conglomeration. The nagging sensation gnawing on the edges of his consciousness was familiar to the man, yet the enigma of uncertainty weighed on the back of his mind.

Soon, the sounds of trepidation were drowned out by the sound of metal and steel clattering together coupled with muffled chatter. Entering the armory, the room was clad with his men scavenging through the scrupulous assortment of equipment scattered across the walls, a plethora of firearms, blades, and diverse gear that glistened under the ocean blue hue of the room's luminous lights, each weapon was meticulously crafted for conflict, each crevice and intricacy honed to dominate within the art of war. It was the one thing those of higher power decided to care about when it came to their quality, considering the scant few of those able to do their dirty work. They were pawns, yes, however, pawns aren't always expendable.

His surrounding allies seemed enthralled within their world, disassociated as their aptitude for battle fueled their prudent decision to gather the proper equipment. However, as the beating crimson of Vorion's eyes entered their periphery, those surrounding them immediately snapped back to reality, their poise stiffening, shifting themselves to face their leader.

The man trod further into the room, giving occasional nods toward his surrounding allies, with the gesture being quickly reciprocated. All around were the mixed expressions of his men; a coalescence of confusion, quandary, confidence, and anxiety. A conglomeration of differentiating feelings on the upcoming mission, yet Vorion could tell from the look in their eyes that they hadn't informed them of the endeavor they were soon to embark on.