[b]6-8-2039
New Xanathan City (formerly Cape Town, South Africa)[/b]

Dark clouds roiled high above the Stormkaap, obscuring the early morning's sun. Markus observed a heavy mist accumulating on the elevator's paned walls, and as he stepped out of the building he was met with an oppressive discomfort. For him, the torrent had already arrived. 

His driver, Jakob, opened the rear passenger door of the Mercedes AMG G 63. Markus paused and peered over his shoulder at but a fraction of one man's insecurities; Xanathan Tower gleamed against blackened skies with each flash of lightning. No refuge to be found here. 

The drive would take the better part of an hour as Jakob began the long descent down winding roads and through tunnels carved deep into Tafelberg. Their destination was the Kluis, and perhaps an answer to what eluded Markus.

Almost no light filtered into the cabin as Markus sat with his thoughts. Gravel softly popped beneath heavy tires; all sounds took on a muted aspect through the armored jeep's reinforced frame and inch-thick ballistics glass.  

He shot a glance at the stack of field reports, intelligence dossiers and tablet settled in the seat beside him. Exhilaration and apprehension stirred within Markus as he reflected on the scope of the previous night's attacks. This was resistance unlike any met since the arrival of Xanathan. How could such a powerful foe remain hidden for so long? What was their goal? Were there other threats to Xanathan's sovereignty, accruing strength in putrescent wilds?

[i]Emotion usurps willpower.[/i]

Markus closed his eyes and focused on his breathing; dispelling all doubt as he withdrew into the depths of his consciousness. He sank past the constraints of perception and into a realm of intuition. 

Gruesome images fluttered across the nebulous haze of his mindscape; bodies twisted and charred by an enemy unknown. Ferocity. Could vengeance be their cause?

Evidence of the evacuation of nearly 10,000 dissidents as a town burned. Compassion. An obvious weakness.

The infiltration of a highly-guarded research facility. Ingenuity; or treachery. The truth would be revealed in due time.

"Five minutes, sir." 

Heavy lids separated as his gaze fixed on the driver through his reflection in the rearview mirror. Markus gave the driver a curt nod before turning his attention to a locus of Xanathan's cutting-edge research. 

Die Kluis, or the Vault, sat in the shadow of Devil's Peak. They drove past heavily guarded gates into an open courtyard that bustled with commotion. A group of hooded prisoners, chained together, were corralled into a transport vehicle. Researchers in pristine coats took inventory of chattel and equipment as rain swept in from the bay. 

The jeep turned and continued uphill, driving further into the compound until stopping before an austere building adorned with marble pillars. He recalled this had been a university prior to Xanathan's arrival. 

Markus stepped out of the jeep and was immediately met by a squat man in an XSF uniform. He gave a brief salute before extending a hand, the other bearing an umbrella that struggled in its purpose. 

"General, I'm Sgt. Theron. I've been assigned to lead the response team you've assembled." 

[i]Thank you, Sgt  Have they arrived?[/i] the response echoed in Theron's mind. 

"Not yet, sir. Delayed by the storm. We expect them within the hour." 

[i]I see. Notify me when they arrive. Dismissed.[/i]

The exchange lasted their ascent up the steps and past the rain-streaked columns of the command center.