Markus’ awkward dress stood out amongst the other members of the XSF walking the halls of the Vault. It had a name, rough sounding in the tongue Bharata seemed so fond of using. He didn’t use those names, his mind could easily dissect and repeat the words – but he spoke more often of places in images, familiarities. Not words. His mind-to-mind communication wasn’t quite what most psychics would consider the norm of operations. They spoke with words, formulated sentences and thoughts. He conveyed emotions, imagery, things that got his point across without the need for actual words. So, when he requested to be brought here, he only showed the driver a mental picture of the building – and the roadways between here and there. His driver, well trained in dealing with Markus, chronicled the path in his mind’s eye, and followed it to the letter. Markus smiled; the man was a good driver. A shame, really, to leave him behind. Markus sighed, thinking about leaving. Ever since they arrived here, it was the main thing he sought to do. To curb Bharata’s curiosity enough to bore him, to get Xanathan extracted not just from Africa, but from this whole world. He wanted nothing but to get back to his home, his family. His people weren’t from Earth F67-X, in fact he wasn’t even human in the conventional sense. He’d managed to fake it, at least enough to not be questioned much in the streets. Though, the third eye tattooed on his face managed to draw some weird attention. Mostly, they thought it a weird novelty of a man who lived a troubled past. In some ways, it evidenced exactly that. Markus wasn’t exactly welcomed at home. He stopped, his footsteps echoing behind him as he turned to one of the windows on the upper levels of the Vault – lining the office-ways, where the scientists stored their research notes and papers. He looked out over the well protected fortress around him, past the walls extending like great monoliths to the sky, reaching for a freedom they could never gather. Inside the Vault, their most powerful weapons and artifacts were stored. Things deemed too dangerous to be allowed into the hands of the people of Earth F57X, technologies far beyond their current capabilities. This place felt more like a home to him than anywhere else on this ball of dirt. His hand touched the glass, and it flexed under the pressure of his palm. He looked down, his frowning face taking in the people bustling around in the courtyard. One day, Bharata would finally grow bored with this plaything of his. Then, perhaps, they could return to the stars from where they came – and continue their business elsewhere. The money here, at least brought in by their current dealings, afforded them a lavish lifestyle – but it was nothing when compared to what they’d earned on the Multiversal scale. His sigh frosted the glass, and he lay his head against it. Closing his eyes, remembering the days of travel and the family he left behind to join Bharata. Back then, he’d felt full confidence in the man. He’d shown up, spoken a big game and promised grandeur. He provided that for years, but now they were marooned here on this rock of dirt and dust because of Bharata’s hubris. The Hydra couldn’t fly, even if they wanted to leave right now, they couldn’t. They didn’t have the power cells, Bharata claimed anyway. Markus believed he hid them, had them buried deep in the Glasslands where no one could find them. Of course, that was why Markus had his own secrets. Expeditions into the unknown, hazardous as they might be, were necessary. Certain members agreed with his reasoning, and the Board allowed for the travel into the Glasslands with express safety precautions that afforded them time to search for what Rendenvauld hid from them. A single tear exerted on his cheek from his closed eyes, and he shifted his weight. And then something caught his mental attention, the ravaging screaming sounds of a beast unleashing pure, unadulterated rage. Markus channeled the words into the open air, not expecting a response. He got one, either way. <”Yeah, I am you stupid fucking cunt. Why the fuck am I locked up? What the fuck is going on here?”? Markus shook his head, for others being called such things might be insulting – might even get a rise from them. He was beyond emotional responses to antagonizations, however. Especially from the like of The Vanguard Beast. He wasn’t even trying to be insulting, it was his natural demeanor for interaction with people. Markus turned from the window, turned from his hope of freedom and escape – at least for now. Markus’ mental tone was soothing, calming. Laced with the psychedelics his mind produced, inducing a calmness to the rampaging beast. Markus finally continued to the command center, what in older days was called the Bridge. The main head of the Hydra. The magnetically sealed doors slid open at this approach, and Xanathan Command Forces, commonly referred to as the worker bees amongst themselves, saluted his coming. He waved them down, and immediately walked to the sensor arrays. Markus tone brooked no question, no allowance of time to get thoughts in order. He demanded an immediate response. “Well, sir. From what we can tell, there’s quite a bit going on out there. We’re not really sure, honestly, what’s going on. We’ve been attacked several times on several fronts. We lost the Hornet squads in Phalaborwa, we’re not exactly sure what happened there – the city is burning now, and the choppers are on the ground. Their recordings fade out, as if someone interfered with them. We’ve got the techhies in the basement working on a fix, but we’re not sure if they’ll be able to come up with anything.” “Well..sir...they’ve taken...” his eyes shifted back and forth, as if searching for a monster lurking in the shadows. “..[I]him[/i].” Markus immediately slammed his hand onto the console in rage, his anger flooded through him. Beyond emotional reactions to instigation and insults, he held little control over it in detrimental situations. “Sir, we’ve been looking. We have drones scouring the continent, we have doubled forces in the rural areas and further North. We’re searching for him, but so far, we’ve not found a trace of what’s going on. All we know is we’re under attack, reports indicate a group of mutants have attacked in each place – but I doubt it could have been the same group. Unless they’ve learned to teleport, which I highly doubt. There are no recorded traces of human teleportation without some device on this planet.” With that said, Markus turned on his heel and walked back the way he’d come. Reaching the central hall, he turned toward the walls – trying to remember which one held the panel. He ran his hand along the south wall, until a metallic click echoed in the emptiness. A square of wall slid away, just big enough to fit his hand into. The biometric readers confirmed his identity, and the elevator shaft in the center of the emblazoned sun painted on the floor opened. Stepping onto it, he again got lost in his own thoughts. For three stories it descended, to a part of the Vault that not many people knew even existed. The security here was far, far tighter. Each floor contained science and research, things far beyond the scope of humanity. It also housed other...things...far too dangerous to be allowed out into normal society. He walked the metal hallways, his mind reaching out to figure out exactly where his target rested. It wasn’t hard. The sounds of screaming and pain alerted him before his mental faculties even found the room. Pushing open the door, Markus’ smile immediately disappeared. He detested dealing with these...things. You couldn’t call them people; they were far too different from the surface dwellers to be called that. Markus’ smile returned quickly though, and his mind sent images of himself as one of him. The other immediately fell at ease, his malnourished face brightening for a moment. Then the mistrust came back. “I am not happy to see anyone these days, Farval. I begin to trust you as much as I trust the uniformed men that guard my door.” “I believed you...but sometimes...I can...I can’t trust my own mind sometimes.” His eyes held the others, and his mind touched the man’s. Not roughly, but gently. Caressing it, putting him further at ease as he spoke. “Fine...where was I? Oh, right. So, outside of Xanathan’s main source of influence there is only chaos. Those who seek to obtain, and keep power for themselves. Many of them aren’t friends, they aren’t even friendly. They fight one another as much as they fight against your people. They want only to see Africa returned to chaos, to the old times. They want tribal leadership; they want the power for themselves. They use anything they can find; they recruit children and brainwash them. They use whatever weapons they can get their hands on, without regard to the safety of after effects. I’m not sure how to say it, but things are bad outside of your main area of control. There are not just the warlords in the militant zone, there’s other people. Other things. At least, rumors of them. They’re like me, but far more powerful. They’re out there, and they have information about you that even you don’t know. They can do things you couldn’t dream of. They’re going to win, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” The mutant laughed, an otherworldly sound. Laughed in his face, belittled his culture and then laughed at him. Markus could tell from his influence on his mind, though, that he held no more information than what he gave. Nodding, Markus stood up and dropped the facade he implanted on the other’s mind. Tapping on the door, one soldier opened it and then stepped aside. A behemoth of a man stepped through the door, ducking to fit through the frame. His body was taut with muscle, and as he flexed it was like the whole room warped around him. As the door shut behind them, Markus continued speaking through the wall. For now, though, Markus wanted to get some information – and he knew just where to find it. The full weight of Xanathan’s wrath was going to be felt. By every single living creature outside the walls.