6 hours, 20 minutes later.
All the time spent in our lives can vary in its worth. Sometimes, it's for something that can fill you up, to feel like you can fit in something good. But for others, it's just because you had to, even when there's nothing left inside of you.
It could be due to many factors, things as forces out of your control, a wrong decision on your behalf, a coercing from a powerful force, or a combination of either of these as well. All can lead to some dire consequences for those involved and the one who deals with it.
But even if you managed to break through the fences and obstacles thrown in your way, even if you make it out of it alive, there's no guarantee the rest of you won't make it out unscratched either, no matter how much you tried to pass through them. Maybe your body may make it through, but both the body and the soul can offer a very different story for the individual to show. And there's not even a guarantee that you'll have others to look for it. Sometimes, it just stays that way and that's that.
What remains may be even comparable to that of a clean undead person, with the skin and bones being the only living beings while the inside is dead in most counts.
And what happens afterward, even if it depends on them, could be a road of the eternity of desperation, searching for the salvation of ending the sorrow, anger and pain away from you, to be at peace of mind for once, but even so, such hope can remain distant for many, contending with the fact that they'll stay with those chains in the mind, a type of mental prison.
Prisons that can be shaped in many forms to see.
Inside a room full of desks with computers, keyboards, blasters and pads detailing the recent activity in the prions of Illusion Island. Inside, there are a handful of Zlocans and Human guards checking every footage available for them to check and investigate in case of any potential wrongdoing. Or at least simply hang out for a quick break for a quick drink when it comes to such matters. Many of the Human inquisitors have bags beneath their eyes, yet maintain steady smiles on their faces. After all, the Zlocu would like the Humans to work well in their jobs.
"Hey look, this is getting tedious to work with, when are we gonna get into a real fight next?" a bald male asks a Zlocan next to him.
"When it's ready," the male Zlocan replies without batting an eye at him. This makes the bald man grunt in response as he shoves his custom-made Zlocan gun away to the desk.
"And you call yourself a proper warrior of the Kujar or some shit? You know what, I'm going back to the prison arena so I can call my own shots."
"You may do as you please." The bald man then grabs the gun back in his hand and heads for the door, stumbling for a bit as he tries to get himself composed for battle. Then, he stops midway while saluting the rest of the personnel in the room.
"You'll soon see how good I am to be called the 'wetback' hunter y'all!" the bald man shouts while having his gun. Despite this, the rest barely turn their attention toward them, some even only giving a mere shrug for his boast while the Zlocan guard shakes his head while leaning near him.
"If you practice your vision to be on weaklings in general instead of one kind, then perhaps you'll be," the Zlocan guard replies. This makes the bald man burrow his frows and approach him, only to stop short as the Zlocan points his blaster at him.
"You think you're so tough, right? It's proven that all Latinos are a bunch of pussies. You have to accept it!" But before the Zlocan can do anything to him, a figure enters the room, and hits the bald man on the back of his head, which makes him stumble forward. The Zlocan eyes the figure, one who turns out to have a particular black coat and a covered arm. With graying hair too.
"Hey, watch it you ass... Oh..." The bald man stops short as he realizes the kind of man in front of him.
"Still keeping up with your delusions without minding your back, I see," Boris says. Even as the bald man tries to raise his voice, Boris' presence is enough to make him tremble in response and guard his gun back as he heads back to the door, leaving wide eyes and avoiding eye contact with Boris as he exits.
This prompts the other Human guard to stop their activity as they see the one entering the room, and make them leave one by one, avoiding eye contact with Boris. None are too eager to see the eyes of someone who could break their bodies in a matter of seconds. Some Zlocans chuckle in response while adjusting their monitors and pads in front of them, showing images of prisoners and escorted weapons and everything the Zlocan can maintain inside the prison.
"So, guess you need something to share with us, Boris?" a female Zlocan asks.
"Only with one, you need to secure the perimeters in this place. No one would like it if an unauthorized fight breaks out, would it?" Boris says with a raspy tone. This statement alone is enough to make the guards grab their guns and other equipment as they head to the exit for their other duties. All except the male Zlocan guard from earlier, who only stares at Boris while keeping his posture in check. It's almost like a grand gesture of admiration he holds toward him, in spite of their different natures.
And yet, still without a trace of a faint smile on his face.
"Fighting as usual, I see," the male guard says as he lets Boris take a seat in the chair next to him. Boris only lets out a faint chuckle in response.
"As much as I do towards delusional weaklings." The Zlocan guard chuckles as well as he walks around the room.
"You do get the gist after all." He then leans near a wall on his back. "You both know the talk and the walk compared to those other Inquisitors, who sometimes can't even have the talk at all."
"Not that the rest are that good with it either." Boris shrugs.
"Right then... Although given what we've observed, it can't be helped at all."
"How it doesn't help, you say?" Boris asks while slightly turning around to face the guard while staying put.
"Weaklings, the usual stuff."
"I think there's more to that." The Zlocan guards sighs in response while tapping on his rifle. More than that he asks. What could it be?
"That we're honestly seeing better results with the Reborn than with normal Inquisitors, is what I meant."
"Ah, yes. On that I agree with." Boris chuckles again for a bit. He knows it well in terms of the results overseen by him on that part. Yet, there's more to it than what other Inquisitors and Zlocans can think of.
"Yeah, especially the conscious ones. It makes us glad when they finally drop all those pretensions and delusions about 'race' and 'alphas' and all that nonsense. Power and evolution is the only thing they need." The guard checks on his pad, showing a list of crossed out names for former Inquisitors, likely ones sent to the assembly of conversion for transformation into Reborn, as well as the percentage between those who kept their consciousness and others who do not.
"And yet, we still need to stomp other delusions than that," Boris adds, turning away for a bit as the Zlocan checks his list.
"Believe me, this is a fitting punishment for having to force their embarrassing ramblings on us, almost like they believe we'd take it the same as the rest of Humans did." The guard then scoffs while keeping the pad close to his shoulder, with a representative high chin even underneath his helmet. It's almost as if he could want something more in regard to the Reborn and others. Something a whole lot stronger. "On the bright side, they stop when they're with us."
"Yes. I guess you can try that with everyone else if we turn the tide around. Could be even better than our very Inquisitors." This makes the Zlocan guard let out a laugh, something that's a bit unheard of from a typical Zlocan at this stage, perhaps even more so from their usual activities in the field. But despite that, he keeps his lingering gaze around the room, something like that may not be even close to worth it for someone like Boris. Especially for a man with long years.
"Y'know, there's something that picks my curiosity about you," the Zlocan guard says.
"What would it be?"
"What are you planning next when we win the war? Maybe we can let you keep your Human form and maybe be our own honorary Zlocan as you deserve. What says you?" After a pause between the two, Boris only answers by shaking his head.
"Is there something wrong with his honorable gift to you? Even if it may be a long road ahead? Even if we make you immortal?"
"I'm only waiting for the end. The end of my own purpose of the rules of nature in the grand scheme of things. That's the only way I can be fully safe from the plight that is Humankind. Even myself." Boris closes his eyes while letting out a sigh. As the Zlocan observes, he eyes the ring caked in blood on his index finger. Almost peculiar to him enough to make him lean close to him.
"And taking it with that ring of yours?" Boris slowly nods as the answer to him. Yet, the Zlocan doesn't feel this is enough for him. "Why do you have it?"
"A reminder of the only constant in this world and my role in it. Nothing else. Expecting that there's more to it is a fool's errand as well, especially for a species as unworthy as us, the Humans." Boris looks down as he lets out a sigh again, eyes closed and such even if it's quiet to hear. Even those little actions, it speaks very louder than anything else in life from anyone else who experienced it as close as he.
"Is that it?" Boris sighs again.
"Such is the fragility of ourselves, and our constant and futile escape from it, our refusal to accept our roles in everything. Even when they insist that it calls for it." A silence follows next, Boris still gazing longingly at the room while the Zlocan stares back at him. He tried everything else to know if it was a trick or not. But this time, it seems like these are the things that he really desires at this point. Potentially a sign of nothing else to lose? Or something far more tragic than it is? Even the life of a mercenary can hold as many scars as the other jobs and ways in life that involve fighting for change. Real change. A seemingly futile one for an eternity.
"For someone who's a self-loathing bastard, you still look determined for anything. Kinda ironic when you think about it," the Zlocan guard says as he heads for the door while still staring at him. Boris still looks down in silence, not bothering to look back at the Zlocan as he heads for the door. Even with the silence, however, there's a bit of hesitation from the Zlocan as he opens the door and still his eyes on Boris, sitting all alone. "Wish you luck... I guess." Without another word, the Zlocan leaves the room, now leaving Boris alone in a room full of machinery.
With the cold and mechanical sounds are heard in every corner of the room, and even the silent presence of it like with Boris' arm.
But it doesn't matter, he always says. Nothing ever does. Nothing ever will. For the ultimate fate of trying to change the tides of life and fate itself is a resounding punishment, a testament to how defiance is the grandest sin to ever commit.
Not after trying to fight for others for so long.
Not even an attempt at clemency at all.
None at all.
***
In the depths of the ocean, the dark blue scenery in the submerged lands can be a mesmerizing sight for those who take the challenge to see it at its fullest, finding all potential life in sight and even hidden away from predatory hands. Such things are present even in the roughest waters and mined waters near Illusion Island, every chain present with a shortcut to take. Below the chains is a long cable line that follows a long line into an unknown part of the complex, one with a rubbery surface even. A deeper complex than anticipated it seems.
And among those who head deeper is a particularly large and chrome submarine diving below a set of mines. The noise points to a blocked entrance below the rocks of the island that holds the prison in place.
Even in the blurry visor and the flashing headlights in it, a particular figure can be seen inside, putting his hand in the communicator near the ear.
"This is Seiner, we've spotted the energy cables. Do you copy? Seiner asks.
"Copy that. Remember, on my count, a simultaneous strike will shut down the power at the plant, and our paratroopers and scubas will head deep into the territory and save as many as we can. The attack should take care of the mines too," Sylvester's voice says. In what seems to be his first semi-active operation in days after the attack. "One..."
The sub's holes open one by one, revealing a set of torpedoes, ready to fire.
"Two..."
A set of lights appear as well, first in red, as they await the deployment. And if timed right, it can lead to the success of the next vital step for the UEF as they reach closer to Los Angeles.
To unleash the horde.
"Three!"