Chapter Text
Life loved to be complicated. Every echo gave more than its own presence. If rumour gave life they stole more than their worth as well. Ripples formed waves that could shape oceans. More often than not the collective sea of waves stifled more than most ripples. If there is an end in the still, quiet calm, it may be impossible to tell if the single and the whole are anything less than the same.
The known world had no place for a collection of wayward little islands thrown out into the watery abyss on the edge of… probably literally nowhere. Nevertheless it seemed to do well enough where it was. Nobody complained. Then again it might be hard with nobody to listen.
Maybe some of that had to do with the fact that those little islands were more or less abandoned. At least, they had been. The discovery of mystic ruins full of ancient magic had long since signalled the call for hundreds of researchers, treasure hunters, and opportunists. Time could do a lot. Towns and cities sprawled across the land. Life thrived, even in the middle of nowhere.
Hello.
The Forsaken Islands dotted the sea in a rough circle, one loosely trailing after another, clockwise. They were reasonably a circle, anyway. One or two may have been slightly more over to the side or up a little. They were still a circle for all intents and purposes, all seven.
Listen.
Actually there were eight, but Median Island didn't really count. It was just there in the lower middle, out of place and microscopic compared to the others, warping the bird's eye image into some sort of depressed eye, or something mildly inappropriate.
It is time to become.
All of that was all fine and well, but it hardly seemed important when there was a gun being pointed at someone's face.
Consciousness snapped to fast and hard, like a whip. Thick tufts of black only barely gave way to the blinding light, pouring through like radiation in the gaps around a metal ring. Light burned. Eyes strained. The barrel of the weapon touched forehead.
'First lesson; you're expendable.' A voice cut through the sombre silence. Pause stole like ice across the counting seconds, smoothing into tense silence.
Suddenly the world took focus as the weapon lifted up and away. A room blurrily took shape. Sight revealed a shock of brown hair rustling ever so slightly. Icy blue eyes locked in hard. Then the figure turned away.
'One move, one mistake, one wrong choice, and you die. Nobody will miss you and nobody will care. You're a soldier now. Childhood is over.'
There was no time to respond. A second voice cut in. 'Where am I?' It sounded female.
There were others. Beyond the figure in the silhouette and light, rows of metal and glass containers lined concrete walls. Shapes vaguely filled each one.
'In the waking room, where else?' A chuckle sounded out. This voice too was new. It was also female.
The one asking the questions stole yearning thoughts yet again. 'The what? I want to go home.'
A flash of crimson hair swayed briefly into view. 'Ugh, newbies. I forgot how completely green they are… and stupid.'
'Enough.' There came the voice with the brown hair and the gun, male and assertive. 'You don't know anything.' For a moment cold eyes locked in view. 'You were in stasis. Whatever you remember, it doesn't matter. You're on Zericon's time now. Playtime's over and this is real life.'
'Did I… get hurt in an accident or something? Where's my team?' There was no shock in the unseen speaker, just numb confusion.
The redhead woman spoke again. 'You've been reassigned. The other half of our team got killed and we need replacements so we were taking you two. You're trained with guardian gloves and combat, right?' The red-haired girl promptly crossed her arms and turned away. 'And… you'll be needing clothes.'
'What?' That word defied his brain. It stole life of its own without input or command. For the first time in this moment and place, he had presence. Raza looked around. He was real? This was real? In the moments up until then the sweet nothingness had claim. He was nothing, he was a dream, in a dream, bodiless and fleeting. Realisation kicked in hard like a steel-toed boot.
Tan hands and fingers pulled free from loosened metal restraints. Raza swept a lock of hair from his face. Is this me? At last, the world was visible. He studied his body. Along the back of his right forearm letters stood out bold in black. Z-109919 had been stamped on it. There were in fact clothes, too. A light grey fabric covered his upper arms and torso, tight to the skin. It reached down to his knees. Bare feet were suddenly cold.
Redhead was a good a name as any for the crimson speaker at this point in time. She let out a beleaguered sigh. 'Can't they just for once give us someone who doesn't stop and ask questions for an hour? You were asleep. Now you're back to work. Get a uniform and follow us.' Hard brown eyes watched Raza closely. 'Okay?'
He had no time to respond. 'Okay' said the unseen female, 'but I need to see Deynan.'
'Not right now,' interrupted the one with the gun. 'Get dressed.'
So it was time. He had to move. It wasn't long before Raza discovered the complications of stiff limbs. Fingers and toes were sluggish. Limbs struggled to obey- but they did. The young man moved his way out of the- first the leg restraints, actually. It wasn't just arms. Very quickly the world tilted ninety degrees. A face metal the concrete floor, thankfully with hands to brace it.
Then came the vomit. Hello, world. Apparently his stomach hadn't gotten used to conscious animation just yet.
The others merely turned away. 'Pathetic,' uttered the gunslinger.
'Ew,' uttered the redhead. 'This one's defective. Can we get a new one?'
Another pair of bare feet stepped out onto the cold floor and winced. His eyes trailed up to see, driven by instinctive curiosity. They were definitely feet, that was a start. Stout, wide legs sat atop them, connected to wider hips. A chubby contour was laid nearly bare in a familiar light grey body suit. Blonde hair draped flat over round cheeks and a strong chin. A stripe of green ran down her forehead and nose, illuminating soft sky blue eyes. She had a number too, judging by the vague snippets of black barely visible on her arm.
'At least this one's upright,' snapped the redhead, eyeing up the other pod person.
The blonde glanced over, then knelt down. 'Don't be cruel, he's suffering from sleep sickness.' A hand reached out for his own. 'Come on.' Those gentle blues welcomed Raza up.
'Thank you,' Raza managed. With a helping lift he got to one knee, then both feet. They would just pretend his hand wasn't covered in puke. When he almost fell over again she put a hand each on his chest and back.
'Better?' The blonde watched carefully. She was nearly a foot shorter.
'Uniforms, now,' commanded Trigger-Happy. He pointed to a metal box affixed on a nearby wall. What resembled a bar code scanner waited patiently.
Thoughts took over. If logic was any helper here it was likely that the code on his arm was the key. Raza forewent instruction and gave it a shot. What was there to lose? With a dissatisfying beep the device opened like a breadbox and revealed a set of clothes. The young man took them and… honestly, just stood there, looking at the mile-long hall full of pods, and people, staring at him.
'I suppose some privacy is-'
'Get dressed,' ordered the gunslinger.
Okay then. Raza moved aside so blondie could use the magic breadbox, and began the awkward dance of climbing into pants whie standing up.
They were something at least. All one colour, the boots, pants, coat, and helmet were tinted a stony grey-blue. A large black Z was embossed on the top-left of the chest. Raza stared out at the others through a safety visor. One glove covered his left hand. So he was a soldier now. Over to the side the other newcomer had given up on etiquette and resigned herself to rolling and sliding on the floor. Ample breasts jostled as she writhed her way into her skin-tight garments. They at least fit the woman. This time Raza was the one to offer her a helping hand up. So here they were, four strangers in uniform, all standing around.
The blonde broke the ice. 'Last time I was on assignment we were chasing squatters out of the slums. So what's our goal here? How did your teammates get killed?'
'At Highmore,' replied the gunslinger. 'Pushed in.' Surprisingly that information was not totally useless. Highmore was a volcano over on the aptly named Past Island.
'Smugglers?' The blonde girl caught on fast, maybe. She seemed to know a lot. It was best to stand back and listen.
'Right,' said the redhead. 'At least this one works.'
Regardless the brown-haired male was unmoved. 'Let's go.' Already he was off and walking down the hall.
Nobody else seemed willing to share. Evidently that fell onto his shoulders. The swarthy young man turned to the blonde. 'My name is Raza.'
She nodded. 'Bethany. How'd you end up in stasis?'
That was a good question. His memory was not gone, just hazy. It was hard to remember faces and names. Everything was disjointed, like a dream. What stood out? The Z on the uniforms stood for Zericon. All across the islands their security firm had taken root. Law enforcement often fell into their jurisdiction. Cryogenic chambers and flying cars were just commonplace technology. As for himself? Saying "I don't know" sounded like the wrong answer, especially after having a gun in the face. 'I was injured,' replied Raza. You?'
'Complications in delivery- I think. The last I remember I was giving birth to my second child.'
Raza hesitated. 'How old are you?' She looked so young.
'Twenty-three,' said Bethany. A witty smirk crossed her lips. 'How old are you, sixteen?'
'Nineteen.'
Suddenly the redhead cut in. 'That makes you the youngest.' She turned an about-face, walking backwards. 'The name's Karya. I'm twenty-one.' Then she cocked her head toward the gunslinger. Brown locks touched his shoulders. 'That's Valius. He's twenty-five, and your captain. You take orders from him now. We're mobile patrol. We go where we're needed and stop who we're told to stop. Got that?'
'Yes ma'am,' said Bethany.
'Yes,' added Raza.
So this was how it began.