It has been fifteen years since Frank pledged his allegiance to his creator. He has mastered his powers and learned how to control them using the metal coils installed in his back. With it, he had done his creator's bidding by abducting newborn underlings in the Great Cities and offshoot towns.
But he feels an undeniable sense that something is amiss. His body and mind are whole, yet there is a part of him that makes him incomplete.
Frank stands in the middle of a ruin. He can't identify what type of building it once was, but the architecture of the infrastructure fascinates him. It has overgrown fauna and decrepit debris that once saw its glory.
One noticeable thing he kept admiring was the marble columns. Underneath its mossy surface is a finely polished and masterfully chiselled shaft. Although the base is riddled with grime and green, and the rest of the building is in ruins, its once glorious scale is still evident.
"They called it a museum."
A man behind Frank said as he ascended from the steps.
The man wears a hood that conceals his face, a dark leather coat adorned with a cape. Twice the insulation. He fashions a purple scarf that hides a necklace, gloves for his hands, and sharp, shiny boots.
"People before the apocalypse collect items from the past and showcase them for others to see. Now, people after the apocalypse couldn't be bothered with remembering their past. I suppose you can't blame them, especially given what happened during the apocalypse. Killing, looting, and more killing. That sort of thing."
The man continued to explain as he approached Frank.
"A construct dedicated to remembering the past. Is that its only use?"
Frank asked. Eyes still at the ruins.
"No. I suppose not. It was also used to celebrate their collective greatness. Before the Zenos, humans tended to conquer one another. Empires were built with bloodshed, and with bloodshed, empires fall. It is a cycle. Now look at where they are now."
"Empires?"
"Before the Great Cities of the Apocalypse, there were nations, before nations, there were empires, and before them, there were kingdoms, and so on. Funny how they are all reduced to cities. Humanity reached its peak long ago."
The man takes a step, getting a closer look at the rubble around him.
"And a museum to remember those before them?"
Frank smirks and picks up a piece of marble debris on the ground.
"Indeed."
"And what about people? Where do people get remembered?"
"The cemetery."
The man answered, turning towards Frank.
Frank finds the answer unsatisfactory, although it is correct; he shouldn't question his Creator after all. He observes the debris he picked from the ground and inspects the mossy features sullenly.
"What news from the south?"
The man, Frank's creator, asked.
"Quiet so far, master."
Frank replied, tossing the marble.
"Good. I shall depart soon. After your rest here, I expect you and your team to arrive as well so we can continue westward from there."
"Yes, master."
"Necrocity awaits."
The man nods, then he walks out.
"Necrocity awaits."
Frank said, stepping aside for the man.
"One more thing, Frank. Do not dwell on your past. I can see it in your eyes. Don't risk another breakdown. I may not control you and myself at the same time. Don't make me shut you down for good. Understand?"
The man stops just before he gets his feet on the first step down, facing Frank.
"Understood. I'm sorry, master. Although I am confident that I can control it this time."
Frank bowed, lowering his head.
"Good. May I ask what triggers it this time? Was it the museum?"
The man inquires further and approaches Frank.
"I'm afraid I don't know the answer, master."
"It's been fifteen years. Do you still hear the music you've been talking about?"
"Often."
"Fine. Notify nearby teams to take over your assignment."
"No! Master, forgive me, I can handle it."
"You better be. You are welcome to modify your assignment to suit your needs. If problems and developments appear, you may change course."
The man turns around again and starts descending the steps.
"Yes, master."
Frank said, bowing down again.
"Also, I've assigned Zark and his underling trainee to you. I've told your second in command, Zypno, about it. I hope that won't be a problem?"
The man glances as he continues walking.
"It won't be. I will control their… Temperaments."
"Good."
Soon, the man grows further away from him. Frank watches as his creator fades from his view. As if the thick, cold fog swallowed him, the man disappeared.
Frank's bulky muscles relaxed, and tensions within him lifted. The heavy gravity has finally been released, and the surroundings could breathe again. The soft, little flowers raised their heads again to sulk on the morning glow.
Frank let out a sigh. He looks around before resting his gaze once more on the ruin.
"Are we really going to Burn Abbey, boss?"
A concerned voice said, and a man emerged from one of the destroyed pillars. Wahn reveals himself.
"We are."
Frank brushes his suit.
"Why couldn't we just go straight to our destination? Why bother stopping by Burn Abbey?"
Wahn creeps slowly beside Frank, rubbing his hands together anxiously.
"I'll tell you why!"
A gurgling feminine voice said, Zit appeared from the same hiding spot where Wahn emerged.
"Because he intends to bring my dearly beloved Ali to me!"
Zit added, giggling menacingly.
"Ugh."
Wahn squeaked in disgust. He walked around Frank and stood on the other side.
"It seems the master works in strange ways. Who are we to question his intentions?"
Frank said, quietly observing the ruins once more.
"His intentions are in our interest, Frank. Don't be such a good boy and maybe add some curiosity to your flavor. Might I suggest you participate in gossip with the others back home and see what we may conclude?"
Zypno chimed in, coming from below the steps. He approaches the group.
"Zypno. I heard we got new members to our entourage?"
Frank asked. He looks around, and familiar faces surround him. His heart is filled with joy at the opportunity to work with people he is warm towards. Fifteen years of serving the master, and he has served it all with this particular group—his own team.
"Yes. I suppose being one of the twelve Eidolon has its perks. But do we need two more people in the group? Can't we operate as is? We've been doing fine just the four of us for years!"
Zypno complained, crossing his arms.
"Not to mention your Zeno horde. I guess they're part of the group."
Wahn said, lacking the confidence to speak up.
"Where are they? I think it's best to welcome them to the party before we get started. Wahn, go with Zit, make sure they'll be in line."
Frank commands. His authoritative voice needs no question. He leads the group, and the group respects him.
Wahn and Zit acknowledge, nodding as they continue towards the whereabouts of their two new members.
Zypno steps closer towards Frank, who still appears to be looking for the museum's meaning.
"Frank. I've seen those eyes before. Fifteen years we've been doing the master's bidding, and you still look lost! Will you please knock it off?"
Zypno exclaimed, and he sounded annoyed. He has been Frank's assigned right-hand man ever since. His rank demands that he be Frank's sole advisor.
"This morning I had an awful feeling, Zyp, as if I was supposed to be somewhere. With someone."
There was melancholy in Frank's tone. His eyes still wander somewhere on the sheen of the columns before him.
"Well, we are supposed to be somewhere after we're done here. What did we even do here anyway? It seems the master was just strolling around like usual!"
"The master does like being in the cities."
"Cities that we are meant to destroy! Have you and the master forgotten about that?"
"Somehow, I do feel the same redundancies. I want to destroy the cities, yet I want to see one. Is it ironic?"
"It's hypocrisy! Ugh. I wonder what the master did to you Eidolons to have your brains be so alike!"
Zypno snickered, putting his hands on his waist now.
"We are his children. He made us. However, not all of us have similarities with the master. I, for one, only share a sense of curiosity with the old world. The reason why we are here in the first place was simply because of the master's nostalgia."
Frank let out a grin as he started walking down the steps.
"Save me with the boring lore. This city looked boring! I heard they piled up people here and burned them to ashes! Why would they do that? And why would they name their city 'Settle'?!"
Zypno mocked, and he followed Frank.
As they take their steps towards the end and into the landing, the fog clears, and they are greeted by a familiar structure—a massive, twenty-foot, iron gate slightly ajar.
At its bottom rail, a hole is visible, seemingly caused by a tanking figure that has besieged it. Its shape appears to be human.
"I wonder who did that."
Frank asked genuinely.