It's been a few days. Somehow, I've ended up with a job working under Dr. Abraham Erskine. Yeah, I know strange doesn't even begin to cover it.
It happened at the Stark Expo, of all places. Eri was clinging to my sleeve, eyes wide at the lights and machines, while I was more concerned with the number of uniforms in the crowd. Then, by what felt like coincidence or maybe something worse I crossed paths with Erskine himself.
He wasn't what I expected. For someone holding the keys to the future of warfare, he carried himself like a weary grandfather, more concerned with people than power. Somehow, and don't ask me how, I convinced him to let me work under him. Words aren't usually my weapon of choice, but in that moment, it was like something slipped through my mouth that wasn't entirely my own. A truth, maybe. Or a lie that wanted to be believed.
That was also the day I ran into Steve again. Same stubborn eyes, same fragile body trying to house something bigger than it looks. He hasn't changed, not really but maybe he has. There's a resolve in him now, clearer than the last time I saw him. The kind of resolve that makes men like Erskine take notice.
And then there's Peggy Carter. Sharp smile, sharper eyes. The kind of person who could cut you down with a sentence if she wanted to. She's polite enough, but I can feel the questions hiding behind her gaze. The kind of questions that don't get asked out loud unless they're ready to chain you to a chair.
Speaking of chains yeah, I'm under surveillance now. Subtle, but constant. I see the shadows at the edge of the corridors, catch the click of boots when I leave Erskine's lab, notice the way conversations stop when I pass. I keep my head down, play the role of quiet assistant, but I can feel the weight of eyes on me every waking hour.
Eri doesn't notice. Or maybe she does and just pretends not to, wrapped up in her doodles and innocent curiosity. I envy that, honestly. For her, this place is full of wonders machines, uniforms, people chasing impossible futures. For me, it's a cage disguised as an opportunity.
◇◇◇
I stood at the window of my office in the Central Tower, watching Evolto City sprawl beneath me like a living thing. Lights shimmered across its veins, towers reached like teeth into the false heavens, and the Cerian Sun cast its steady glow over all of it. To most, it would seem eternal, untouchable. To me… it has always been fragile.
Xytheron's words still clung to me like ash.
"Old friend," he had called me, with that mocking warmth only he could wield. "I would like to inform you that Evolto City is drifting into one of the domains of those so-called omniversal gods an especially arrogant one at that. You will be there in about four months… just as what was it? Ah yes, your Dendrite fruiting ceremony."
He had spoken it so casually, as if discussing the weather. I remembered asking him, quiet and deliberate: "Why are you telling me this, Xytheron?"
He laughed then. That jagged, hollow laugh that never carried joy, only hunger. "Because I want to be the one responsible for the annihilation of Evolto City… and everything you represent."
That was when I laughed. A deep, humorless laugh that filled the silence between us. "So why the hell didn't you tell me about the Xerathian attack?"
His answer came with that same poison-slick tone: "Well, you found a way for to stop me from opening a rift to Evolto City, so I couldn't do it. But thanks to somebody's contribution, I've found another way."
Now, staring down at my city, I could almost still hear him.
The weight of his promise didn't frighten me it irritated me. Xytheron had always been a creature of destruction, but now he had taken to playing prophet, dangling omens as if he understood inevitability. Yet… even I couldn't ignore the truth beneath his venom.
Evolto City was drifting. Slowly, inexorably, toward a god's domain. And four months was no time at all.
I placed my hand against the cold glass. From here, I could almost imagine the Divide breathing beyond the skyline, waiting.
Four months until arrogance descended upon us. Four months until Xytheron tried again.
And four months for me to remind them all Xytheron, the gods, even fate itself that Evolto City does not bow.
◇◇◇
"Ahahahahahaha! This is so fun!"
The laughter rang out over a pyre of corpses, human and monster alike, their charred flesh crackling as the flames devoured them. The figure watching didn't flinch if anything, they leaned closer, eyes glimmering with a manic delight.
"I don't understand why Boss barely gives us these types of missions, sis," the voice whined, their tone somewhere between childish complaint and murderous glee.
From the shadows beside them came another voice, calm and measured, like silk stretched over a blade.
"Because Mr. Zalthorion would like to keep Evolto City untainted by… too much blood."
The first figure scoffed, throwing their head back with a howl of laughter. "Yeah, yeah, whatever! Still—ahhh, I can't wait to meet my little disciple, Vidarath. From what I've heard, his wives are living with him now." Their grin widened unnaturally, sharp teeth flashing in the firelight.
"But not only that—" they leaned in closer, eyes burning wild, "Zalthorion has recruited another one!"
Their companion said nothing, only watching as the flames consumed what remained of the battlefield.
"Hell yeah!" the insane one howled, spreading their arms as if embracing the inferno. "There are finally fifteen members! Fifteen!"
The pyre roared, and the laughter rolled out into the dark like a hymn to something ancient and cruel.