The building stood like the skeletal frame of a skyscraper, incomplete and barren. Its outer structure was nothing more than exposed beams and unfinished concrete, the core yet to be filled in. To any passerby, it was just another abandoned construction site–half-formed and forsaken. Yet, despite its hollow appearance, the structure provided enough covering to function as a shelter.
Inside, however, lay a hidden facility that betrayed the deception of the exterior. Where the outside was raw and industrial, the interior was refined and alive. Smooth tiles spread across the floor, polished walls gleamed beneath sterile light, and sleek panels of technology pulsed faintly against the silence. Banks of equipment hummed softly, their displays casting glows of green and blue across the room. It was a world apart, a secret buried beneath the illusion of ruin.
At the heart of this concealed chamber, four figures–three men and a woman–stood gathered before a large screen. Lines of fluctuating values scrolled ceaselessly across its surface: some rising, others collapsing, numbers chasing numbers in endless patterns. Images flashed in brief intervals, appearing and vanishing, too quick to hold before another replaced them. Their hushed conversation mixed with the low electronic hum, as though the air itself carried tension.
Then, a fifth figure appeared within the room without the slightest disturbance. She was a woman of striking beauty, her presence immediately commanding the room. Her hair, long and dark as midnight, framed a face that needed no heavy paint to stun. A faint touch of makeup softened her features, but it was her natural allure that held power. Her lips, glossy and full, seemed made for unspoken promises. A faint rosiness colored her complexion, and her eyes–deep, sapphire blue–glittered like shards of starlight.
When one's gaze fell lower, it was impossible not to linger. Every curve of her form carried the weight of deliberate perfection, her presence itself a spell of silent seduction. She was beauty sculpted into flesh, an enchantment that no simple glance could escape.
"You are back, Isabella? Have you found him?" Asked the only female among the people gathered before the large screen–a brunette with soft features that made her conventionally pretty. She left where she was and approached Isabella.
"Technically, I've indeed found him. And before you ask what I mean by 'technically', your description of the scenes you saw in your visions were rather vague. Despite Ashran's assistance, I only managed to track him to the refugee camp. So, indeed, I've technically found him. I'm certain he is at Glamour's refugee camp but as for who he is…" Isabella shrugged her shoulders as she walked up to a mini freezer and took out a can of soda.
Isabella fell on an empty swivel chair in exhaustion. Slouching, she popped the can of soda open and took a long sip.
"What now? It's necessary we find him before he causes another tragedy. A true matter of urgency." Ashran, their Tech Specialist, said out loud.
"I know. I fucking know. But the fuck do you want me to do? Jane's the one you should be saying that to. She's the Seer, not me. I merely run y'all's errands." Isabella mumbled to herself but still audible enough for everyone to hear her, taking a sip of her drink leisurely.
Everyone turned to the pretty Brunette. Their gaze asking a question they already knew the response to.
"You know that I can't control what I see. I can only see anything when I dream… I'm sorry I'm so useless." Jane sighed in self-deprecation.
"Don't be so hard on yourself. Sooner or later, the devil will show up on our radar. He does love to make a lot of noise whenever he decides—" Isabella's words found no completion when suddenly a sharp ringing noise filled the room.
"Ashran! James!" Jane called out.
"A Chosen has been sighted… Glamour's refugee camp…" Ashran turned to stare at both Jane and Isabella, whose eyes were now wide in shock.
"What? It hasn't been two days?!" Jane muttered in confusion.
"It seems we've underestimated the unstable condition of this Chosen… Should I terminate him?" Isabella inquired as she sat upright, placing her now empty can of soda on the desk close to her.
"You aren't going anywhere now. We have no knowledge of the Chosen's abilities and passive trait, nor do we know what can trigger him into activating his powers, after all, you couldn't even sense him when you were at Glamour's and we know quite obviously that he is unstable. You'll only go when we have a certain idea of his abilities." Adam, who'd remained silent for a while now, finally spoke up. He was the final Chosen of the three Chosens in the room–Ashran and James weren't Chosens.
"Huh?" Isabella's gaze turned sharp as it fell on Adam. The air frizzled a little around the room and grew hotter.
"You heard me. It's for your own safety. Did you not see the corpse of that marble-like statue? Didn't you sense how much more superior that humanoid creature was in comparison to us? Yet, it still died. What we are up against is something similar to us yet very dissimilar." Adam continued on, ignoring the rising temperature within the room.
"Adam's right, Bell. You should in no way engage that person. Not that I don't trust your methods of escaping unfavorable situations but we are oblivious to his methods too, he could potentially counter you. I know that you want to get this over with quickly but that's taking unnecessary risks." Jane pacified Isabella.
"Yeah, if you guys are done there, can I start with the details on the situation this time?" James called their attention.
"Of course!" Isabella answered as the initial coolness of the room returned.
"Alright then. Casualties… forty seven. The bodies were found seated in a dim room usually used for a Group Therapy session. They were found headless, blood and flesh splashed over everything. There was only one survivor…" James finished.
"I guess that one survivor is our guy?" Isabella said in a strained voice. She was obviously with how her fingers dug into the armrest.
"Andrew Starfield, a nineteen year old who just left college. He was working an unspecified part-time job formerly before the calamitous incident of City of Grede took place. Not much is known about his personal life and history except that he is an orphan raised by a woman who took him in as a toddler. While growing up, he seemed to have experienced some mental issues, after all, according to the record here, Andrew has been to three different mental asylums. A true mad man we have here, I'd say." Ashran shook his head after he finished reading out the information he could find on Andrew.
"Oh right, I nearly forgot. Andrew doesn't know he's adopted. He thought of the now deceased old lady as his grandmother. Just letting y'all know." Ashran quickly added.
"Three mental asylums? What was the duration for each one?" Isabella inquired.
"At the age of seven, he was admitted into Deve's Mental Asylum–duration, five months. At ten, Dominicus Mental Asylum–thirteen months. At fifteen, Frievert Mental Asylum–fifteen months. Causes for each admission were left unspecified, though I did find files mentioning Andrew being diagnosed with Schizophrenia and Multiple Personality Dissociation. No further details could be gotten from those files. It does seem someone took some effort to erase everything inside."
"So, four years ago was the last time he acted up? I guess he's relapsing. Mental issues, huh? I can deal with those." Isabella thought out loud.
Suddenly, the mood of the room changed. There was already a kind of solemnity present but after the words that just left Isabella's mouth, the entire room seemed to experience another level of solemnity.
"You wouldn't dare—" Before Adam could finish, Isabella cut him off.
"Really?" And with that single word, the space around her warped in a way only visible to her as her figure disappeared from the swivel chair.
"Fuck you, Bell!" An angry bellow followed Isabella through the rift.
'Please! Calm the fuck down, guys.' Isabella mentally rolled her eyes.
*****
In a dark cell with a foul stench of feces, the miserable silhouette of man could be barely seen. His limbs were tightly tied together by a thin wire that was wrapped around them several times. He hung upside down. His head, just a few inches away from the ground.
The dark cell wasn't usually silent. The sound of depraved ramblings would often reverberate through the dark, mossy walls of the cell. Voices of various kinds would be heard, in some sort of argument. They fought, they screamed, they cried, they laughed and rarely… They were silent. This time was one of those rare times, they remained silent.
There was only silence but to Andrew, the world was never silent. It had never been silent. The ravings of things that pretended to be him had always resounded through his mind since he could remember. They've always been there and he might have thought it to be normal had it not been for how people reacted when they found out.
It wasn't normal in any way. It was a defect. A defect that deteriorated his mind. It gave him comfort in loneliness but they were the very things that also made him so lonely.
'Fool! Why did you fucking choose "Corruption"? Now, look at what you've done to us!'
'There is no "Us", there's only ME! The sooner y'all accept that, the better."
'A fool, that's what all of you are. There is no "I", there's only "We".'
'Umm… Shouldn't we be saddened by the deaths we've caused? Shouldn't we be feeling guilty?'
'Nah. Andrew is doing that currently. We can just chill back here and wait for him to deal with it.'
'You fool! We are "Andrew".'
"QUIET!" Andrew screamed hoarsely. His throat had gotten sore from all the previous screaming.
"But I haven't even said anything, O Great One," A sweet, feminine voice answered mockingly from somewhere within the darkness of the cell.
"QUIET! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR YOUR RAVINGS ANYMORE! PLEASE…" Andrew begged hoarsely. Tears were even trailing towards the ground from his eyes.
He was hungry. Terribly exhausted. He wanted to sleep. He really wanted to sleep. He really wanted to… die.
"Andrew…" The sweet, feminine voice rang out softly as Andrew felt a warm press against his cheeks.
"Do you want to rid yourself of this horrible pain? I can tell you want to end it all… I can help you, Andrew." The sweet voice whispered into his right ear.
"How?" Andrew finally calmed down after feeling the palm of the stranger pressing against his cheek. Somehow, it reassured him that all this wasn't just his mind playing its usual tricks on him again.
"I'll show you, Andrew. All you just have to do is… follow me. Follow me and I'll give you meaning. I'll give you a purpose, Andrew." Andrew felt the warm breath of the stranger brush against his neck.
"Really?"
"Really."