Soul commander, p.6
Soul Commander, page 6
A mutant spider-esque creature with nine legs instead of six and several stingers on its back crawls out from a crevice in the wall to his left. With immediate action, Raphael pulls out one of his pistols and fires at the supposed arachnid. The projected draco splits into shards that ricochet off the wall subsequent to turning the insect into a splatter. There resides a hole in the corresponding wall as well as other smaller holes in the one to his right. He puts the eagle back into its holster and continues forward. He wonders how old the temple is and how the cult was able to get a construction crew to build such a place. What was their excuse for the creation of this secret hideout? He focuses on these questions in an attempt to subdue the feeling of uneasiness. To no avail. He comes to an open area with red cloaked members of the cult on their knees in a ‘U’ formation, staring at their leader, who is above deacon status, while he stands in the center of them all with his right hand coated in flames and his soon to be sacrifice laying beneath him, bound by rope and beige cloth tied around their head and covering their mouth. The leader chants in a dead language. Raphael gets a clear view of the leader’s face. With the mission being completed, he is aware that he could simply leave the situation as it is and return to the ship waiting for him outside. But he just can’t bring himself to do so. He pulls a sensation depravity grenade from a pocket on his Misc. Suit. He holds the grenade for a moment after he activates it, for timing purposes, and throws it at the leader. It goes off and causes the flame in his hand to die. It renders him as well as his followers completely disoriented and lacking three of their five senses, with the exception of smell and touch. He pulls out his submachine gun and fires into the crowd before running toward the center and grabbing the victim.
Thankfully there are no others to save. He begins to head for the entrance. He goes back through the hallway and heads up the stairs. To his dismay, however, the fifteenth step from the bottom is occupied by the masked woman who was slowly making her way down. Raphael hoists the victim onto his shoulder and uses the submachine gun once again to fire at the woman. The bullets phase through her body. Raphael is put off by this. The mysterious individual does not budge. Raphael takes a chance on the idea that because bullets passed through her, he could as well. He isn't rewarded the opportunity to find out. The step he resides upon at the moment abruptly lowers beneath the rest. Raphael is confused. He raises his eyes to the masked woman as he lowers. He doesn't have much space between the stair in front of him and the one behind. He looks outward and expects to see someone with their hand on a lever but everyone around him is still recovering their senses. The step reaches ground level. He rests the hostage against the stairwell and presents himself in front of her as to oppose anyone with the audacity to approach. The cult members glare at Raphael. Raphael talks into his earpiece.
"I may be awhile. In the meantime, prepare for hostage evacuation," he tells the pilot.
The pilot replies, "Understood. Stay on your toes"
Without moving his feet, a Mutari approaches Raphael with a dagger in his hand. The sound of his shoes scraping against the grain of the floor is loud and obvious. Raphael is put off by this. The Mutari swipes the blade at Raphael’s throat but he reacts quickly and pushes his arm away. The Mutari tries several more times to make him relinquish his vitality. The other cult members stay behind and wait for a result. Raphael relieves him of his dagger and strikes him in the space between his ribcage, expecting it to leave him breathless. Although, this doesn’t work because a Mutari does not have the exact anatomy as a human. Raphael pulls out a pistol and fires three times. Twice at his abdomen and once at his forehead. The Mutari falls backward. The echo of his engorged skull striking the ground is heard by all. Livid smoke arises from the carcass’ lips, signaling the rest that their comrade has indeed lost his life. Raphael’s finger romances the trigger of his pistol as he fires into the crowd. Dracos rob them of their futures. When drought strikes his magazine, he removes a smoke grenade and takes out the pin. He drops the grenade. Once it activates, he hides within the shroud of carbon monoxide. His lenses grant him the vision to see beyond it. He rushes to the victim, willing to save her. The masked woman impedes his path and stares him down. Raphael is caught off guard. She stabs him in the stomach. He steps back as the pain countercoehercially thins his nerves. Others surround him including the leader of the sect.
"Who sent you here?" the leader demands.
Raphael grits his teeth. He responds despite the agony holding him back.
"No one. I came here myself."
"Lies."
One of the cult members stab him again. This time, the knife goes further into his stomach.
"Who sent you?" the leader asks.
Raphael keeps his secrets to himself.
"I don’t… have-"
He is impaled once more. Raphael collapses and breathes slowly. His heart rate lowers and his vision fades. Gradier’s soul dissociates with Raphael’s body. Gradier remembers who she is for the moment. She feels that a heavy veil has been lifted from her memory.
"Bring him back," the leader commands the masked woman.
She carves a cryptic symbol into the ground. This act of sorcery allows him to reach into the spiritual realm to grab Gradier and force her back into Raphael. Raphael is revived but is left in an insurmountable amount of pain. The veil is recast but he does recollect being a woman during his out of body experience. He's left with questions. The leader smiles.
"It’s frightening, isn’t it? Death. The darkness that overwhelms you when your body shuts down. I’ve seen it before. Far too many times. The darkness has become a part of me. I will share more of it with you, if you so choose" Raphael doesn’t respond. The leader grows in frustration.
"Answer me."
Raphael is almost tempted to give up information on the Silver Sun. But even in the midst of an intimidating situation guided by death, he is no traitor. Nor does he ever intend to be.
"I wasn’t afraid."
The leader can tell by his demeanor that he was lying through his teeth. But he was and is certainly willing to die for those who have been discretely invading the cult’s bases. But everyone is instilled with a breaking point. The only unknown variable is how long it would take for trauma to transcend his will and loosen his lips. Raphael tries to move but his wounds prevent him from budging. The leader whispers a phrase into his left hand. A furious flame, this one white, appears in his palm. Raphael is baffled to how their sorcery works. The leader offers a loaded threat.
"Save yourself the pain, boy. I can keep you alive for as long as you want to die."
Raphael breathes rapidly. His heart beats on the bones of the cage encasing it, in a panic. He reaches for the submachine gun but one of the members steps on his hand before he can grab it and applies pressure. He grunts, feeling fearful and defeated. He then researches his brain for a distracting memory. One that would prevent his nervous system from reacting as swiftly as it normally would. For a brief and barely perceivable moment, he sees Gradier from the third person as she heightens the morale of armored knights in an arctic tundra. Gradier raises her sword with her right hand while standing elevated on a hill. The knights do the same. They remain positioned side to side in four separate columns of eleven by thirteen. The vision clears from his mind the very second the leader touches the flame to his chest. Raphael screams and squirms. His jaw nearly detaches from his skull. A cut in the center of his bottom lip forms and separates the two halves of the crescent. His mouth is dry but his eyes pour like clouds with bottled emotions. The leader keeps a steady hand. The flame doesn’t detach and envelop Raphael’s clothing as one would expect. The other Mutari watch with sadistic pleasure though their faces remain expressionless. the leader removes his hand but keeps the flame breathing. Raphael’s shirt and chest seem to be intact but the pain does not subside. The leader continues to threaten.
"Did you enjoy that? I certainly did. The fire burns your soul instead of your body. I can do this forever. tell me who sent you or catch another glimpse of hell."
Raphael hyperventilates more so. All he can focus on is the persistent burning and his own screams repeating in his head. He manages to concoct a story that would throw them off. He’s desperate but tries to be as elaborate as possible.
"The Neo-Coats. It's a terrorist organization bent on antagonizing groups shrouded in conspiracy. They sent me here to take note of your activities. We’ve been plotting against you for years. We’ve discovered six of your operation bases."
"You dare spit in my face? the Neo-Coats serve the cult."
"I'm not lying. We find your bases and assassinate the leaders. That’s all I know. Now, set me free."
A frown displays the leader's irritation.
"If you are lying to me, I will find you and depart with your eyes in my hand"
Raphael reaches into a pocket on his suit. A Mutari reacts and grabs his arm out of suspicion.
"I’m not grabbing a weapon. I swear"
The leader looks to the Mutari and nods his head. The Mutari releases Raphael and allows him to remove an adrenaline shot. He removes the cap and stabs it into his shoulder. He drops the empty syringe and slowly stands. Raphael looks to the leader, questioning whether or not he’s going to let him go. He moves his head to the right, non-verbally telling Raphael to leave. Raphael worries about the hostage. His prime reason for being is to protect those who cannot protect themselves. He has failed himself. His inner critic sweeps a number of insults in his direction. The labels, coward, disgrace, worthless, and pitiful are stamped on his forehead. He apologizes to the hostage with a solemn gaze. A glimmer of drowning hope in her eyes causes him to shudder. He ambles forward and climbs the first of many agonizing steps to the surface. The same Mutari that lowered the eighth step using sorcery, raises it again.
Before he moves any further, Raphael finds a vial of cellular regeneration serum in the suit as well as a cotton ball and applies it to his wounds. They would heal soon enough. He continues upward.
"Find out all you can about the Neo-Coats. I want as many of them dead as possible. That boy will be named a traitor and killed by his own men," the leader says to the masked woman. She nods and begins heading toward a vein leading through the endless hall which connect all bases belonging to the Brimstone Cacophony.
Raphael climbs out of the exit, the door remains ajar. He shuts it and walks back to the ship. His hands take shelter in his pockets and both thumbs hang out while grasping the material of his pants. He analyzes the occurrences and pushes the brutal reality aside to imagine an alternate timeline where he was able to best his enemies and leave them regretting their own existence. He’d fly off into the sunset, successful and satisfied with the fact that he was able to save a life. Alas, reality forces itself back into his line of vision and bullies him into misery.
He enters the ship. The door had already been opened for him and the rescued victim.
"Where’s the package?" the pilot asks.
"Package? Oh, the hostage. There is none. I failed," he says, averting his gaze.
The pilot notices the drastic difference in his demeanor and approaches with sympathy.
"Don’t beat yourself up about it. In this line of work, you’ll find that saving everybody is near impossible."
Raphael replies, "Thanks. I’ll be in the back if you need me."
Raphael goes to a secluded room in the ship equipped with a bed and a small refrigerator. He falls face-forward into the bed and kicks his shoes off. He sinks his nose into his pillow and tries to drown his sorrows in a dream induced coma. Despite the pilot’s words, he antagonizes himself as much as possible. It’s difficult for him not to relive every waking moment. He prioritizes his thoughts, focusing more on the death of the hostage than that of the torture he endured. After a long period of laying in place, he falls asleep but no dreams accompany him. Only the darkness of his eyelids guide him to a place without regret.
"Hey, wake up. We’ve arrived," the pilot informs him.
The pilot shakes him awake. Raphael opens his eyes slowly as he is dragged back into his own circumstances. He removes his face from his saliva soaked pillow and follows the pilot out into the light. He recalls the previous events once more, the memories still vivid and fresh in his mind. His heart sinks into his stomach. He hopes to goodness that Beneram only recorded surveillance footage rather than having watched it live. But he is without doubt that he was, being that it was his first time out on his own. His first instinct is to avoid Beneram and escape into the residence hall until he is called upon. But there is no point in procrastinating. His own thoughts and worries would be more critical than Beneram ever could be. He makes his way to Beneram’s office with the speed of a reluctant sloth. He doesn’t notice the numerous agents and soldiers surrounding him and staring as he walks until a sudden applause breaks out and increases in volume. He raises his head and sees many of his comrades cheering and whistling at him. At first, he assumes they’re all mocking him. Beneram steps out of the crowd and approaches. "I broadcasted the feed of your mission to all of them. I couldn’t resist," he says, smiling.
"Why are they clapping? I failed."
"No you didn’t. You just didn’t meet your expectations. They stabbed you and set you on fire, twice, yet you still didn’t give us up. I never doubted you.
You're no less great a soldier than my son"
Beneram’s words resonate with Raphael but all the praise in the world isn’t worth the pain he endured.
"I appreciate it. I really do. But I don’t think I have a place here. I may have been born here but I don’t think it’s my calling to stay. I don’t want to step on eggshells and be paranoid all the time. All it takes is one bad mission and that's the end. They killed me and brought me back somehow just to watch me suffer more. This was just my first mission and who knows what could happen on the second? If I keep doing this, I’ll be so busy looking over my shoulder that I won’t even see what’s lurking around the corner. And that’ll be my end. I want to live… taunting death will only shorten my time. I’m sorry but I resign. My things will be packed by morning. Please have a ship ready to take me to Nyamir"
Raphael takes off his Mis. Suit and leaves it where his feet wait. He brushes past Beneram and heads to the residence hall. The crowd that applauded for Raphael is left staring at the ground, pondering his words. The conversation's end leaves a bitter taste in Beneram's mouth.
Chapter 7
Raphael lies in bed and stares at the ceiling while forming constellations out of the whiteheads that constitute the majority of the surface. Two and a half suitcases are packed, two lean on their side while the other stands vertically, unzipped with shirts poured out onto the carpet. Five pairs of partially folded pants and a set of boxer briefs are sprawled out onto his bed next to his feet. He didn’t bother to take his shoes off even though his socks have been chafing his ankles. He hears a knock at the door. He doesn’t answer but Beneram opens it and intrudes regardless.
"You got a sec?" he asks.
"Yeah," he replies.
"Listen, I don’t think you should resign. We need men like you on our side. I can't legally force you to stay but take some time off, go on vacation if you have to. But don’t quit altogether. Maybe infantry isn’t for you. That’s okay. There are other jobs available. There’s a research and development position with your name on it. If that doesn’t work for you, write mission reports or work in the kitchen. Those are just some off the top of my head. There are tons of others"
Raphael reinforces his perspective.
"The Silver Sun has enemies. Too many. As long as i’m on this base, my safety isn’t assured. And if I can't even protect myself, how will I be able to save anyone else?"
Beneram is slow to respond.
"Well, if you really feel that way, I’ll have that ship you asked for ready for departure in the morning. All I ask is that you think about it. You would be missed."
Beneram steps out of the room and closes the door. Raphael goes back to staring at the ceiling but instead of forming constellations, he weighs his options more carefully. His conscience whispers over his right shoulder and encourages him to give it another shot. Over the left, he’s told not to be deterred.
The medical professional in charge of watching over Cavlov takes a break and another cycles in to take his place.
She introduces herself.
"Hello, I’m doctor Sierra Onnis. I'll be keeping you company for the next few hours to evaluate your activities"
He’s heard so many introductions thus far that he’s begun to tune out the names of those who visit. He hasn’t been taking his antipsychotic medication. Each time he receives a pill and a plastic cup of water, he places the pill into his mouth, while the doctor watches him, and gulps down the water while holding the medication in place carefully either against his cheek or the roof of his mouth. the moment the final drop of water is gone, he’d complete a partial swallow, applying only enough pressure for the pill to rest in his esophagus. He’d open his mouth for the doctor to see, then once they stopped looking, he’d cough up the medicine and grind it into dust using his thumb and index finger so it wouldn’t be noticed or missed. His thoughts have become more psychotic and in-tune with Dammormoth’s words, as a result. Each time Dammormoth speaks, the sound of three other voices speaking follow behind. Homicidal urges are ever present. But he begins to wonder if he’s thinking backward, at least for now. Instead of thinking about hurting others, he could bring harm to himself only to summon enough attention for him to escape. He stands and approaches the glass pane. His eyelids are almost completely hidden and his pupils are motionless. He looks to be staring off into oblivion, unconcerned with reality. He begins hammering his forehead against the pane. The professional had been writing with a clipboard on her legs. Her attention is gathered instantly following the first loud knock. She radios for two soldiers to come open the door and handle him. The doctor anxiously awaits their arrival, fearful that Cavlov will sustain permanent injuries. A translucent smudge of blood left on the glass becomes darker in hue with every consecutive knock. He attempts to talk Cavlov out of continuing any further but he doesn’t listen or respond. When the soldiers arrive, they unlock the door. Cavlov takes advantage of the time he’s given and strikes the first soldier to enter in the mid-section. Cavlov’s head is fuzzy and his balance is out of calibration. He fears that he may have done more damage to himself than was necessary. The second soldier pulls out a miniature pressurized canister and sprays a chemical agent that acts on the nerves. Cavlov holds his breath and backs away but he'd already inhaled too much. He shortly finds himself lying against the wall of his cell without his motor functions.
