For seventeen long years, the city of Romulus had forgotten the sweet embrace of peace. Yet this day, near the break of dawn, an unnatural hush suffocated the skies – a silence so heavy that the towering skyscrapers appeared to hold their breaths against the howling winds that cut through the streets. All slumbered soundly except for one…
"AHHHHHHHH!!!"
Missio Augustus bolted up, a phantom scream filled with agony echoing through his chamber. His chest burned, breath hitched and sweat dripped down his chin like oil. He gasped for air, seizing his chest as if he were drowning. After a minute or so, his breathing stabilized. As his heart settled down, he let go of his chest. Staring into the darkness shrouding his bedroom like a plague, he sat up and pulled the curtains.
Sunlight erupted from the other side, forcing the young man to shut his eyes. He opened one eye, peeping through his fingers and observing the lush garden. Drawing a sharp breath, he recalled the torment he had just endured.
'For Pangea's sake, why…why this again?'
His hand trembled as the horrific sight of the tearing sky jammed itself into his vision. Shaking his head violently, he eventually made it vanish from his mind. He lowered his head as if he knew it would eventually return.
"Why is it back now…?" He muttered to himself.
Standing up in his pajamas, he adjusted his headphones. Instinctively, he reached out towards the artifact sitting on his bed-side cabinet – A Music Box, one whose exterior seemed to be forged from absolute darkness. Light bent around it, refusing to land, knowing what would happen if it did. That Box was connected to his headphones, playing a silent tune into his ears.
Without batting an eye, he picked up the Music Box and entered the bathroom. Placing the Music Box on the countertop, he turned the faucet. As he splashed cold water onto his pale face, he impulsively glanced at his own reflection. He witnessed his own self – his rough dark hair which he had neglected to comb and scarlet eyes that gleamed like the stars. Staring blankly at himself, he blinked. Then, he gritted his teeth.
"Forget it."
A shiver crawled down his spine. He picked up his Music Box and exited. Taking off his clothes and wrapping a towel around his waist, he stepped into the showers. He turned the knob, letting the warm water wash over him. Standing still for a moment, he placed his Music Box on the shelf. Strangely though, the artifact didn't seem to get wet… The droplets were disappearing the moment they touched the Music Box's dark surface.
Maybe that was what the light was afraid of…
The hum of reality faltered for a moment as Missio pressed play. The Box sang a familiar melody as Missio relaxed for a moment.
"That's better."
After a few minutes, he stepped out – steaming while holding his Music Box. Heaving a breath, he approached his closet. Then, as he stopped, his lips parted.
"Mythos." He called out.
Instantly, a robotic yet ancient voice rang out.
[Good morning, Sir. How are you feeling?]
"I'm fine…" Missio replied, halting at his closet.
[Very well. Shall I update you?]
"Yes." Missio pulled out his work uniform,
[The Prime minister tried to contact you last night.]
Missio froze.
"What…?" He blurted. "Why?"
[The purpose is unknown, sir. However, he left a voice message. Shall I read it to you?]
He blinked, pulling dark cargo pants up to his waist. "Sure."
[Dear, Lieutenant General, Missio Augustus. I've left you this voice message to inform you that I, along with the Minister of Home affairs have agreed upon the arrest of National Assembly member, Dick Quartel for the crime of financial fraud. I hope you get back to me on this as this is an extremely urgent matter.]
Missio froze once again. Curling his lips, he snapped his Music Box onto his pants.
'The arrest of a National Assembly member…? Is he out of his mind?'
Wasn't it outrageous? This poor soul had been promoted to Lieutenant General of the Black Ops division only a month ago and yet the Prime Minister had begun stirring up trouble for him.
He put on a sleeveless shirt, tucking it under his pants. Dragging a black T-shirt onto his body, he hung a weighted vest on his shoulders and slid on fingerless gloves before finishing off his attire with a black wind breaker with 'EOC' printed on the back in big, bold white letters. Then, he hung a two-star insignia on the chest and grabbed a curved blade from his wall. Sliding it into his sheath, he exited his dark room.
"They're making my life hell…?" He muttered.
Right then, Mythos spoke up.
[Is there anything else I can assist you with, sir?]
Missio paused for a moment as he strolled through the hallway.
"…No, you can sleep now."
[Very well, sir.]
As Mythos slept, Missio descended a large staircase which led to an even larger and lavish living room with high ceilings and pale walls. He passed the living room and pushed open another door. Entering, he saw a chandelier hanging above a long wooden table with numerous chairs around it. He sat down, leaning his katana on his chair. Moments later, a maid brought him breakfast.
Missio looked at the maid with drowsy eyes. The kind lady with white streaking across her brown hair, looked at Missio with a gentle smile.
"Quickly finish your breakfast, my lord. You're going to be late for work."
"Right…." Missio's voice cracked as if he had forgotten to speak.
He stared at the plate in front of him. In his mind, he was still thinking about the Prime Minister's order.
'…Can't he give me a break? He's cooped up in his office while I have to do all the dirty work.'
Frowning, he picked up the utensils on the table. As he did, the maid began oiling his hair. The Lieutenant General flinched.
"Lilla…" He groaned.
"No more excuses, sir. You haven't taken care of hair in a week!" Lilla reprimanded.
Missio's face contorted. He sighed as he let her oil his hair. When she finished, he immediately wiped his forehead and returned to eating his meal. After a few minutes, he rested his utensils, heaving a sigh of relief.
"Alright, I'll be heading out." He stood up.
Lilla nodded, wiping the table with a piece of purple cloth. Missio looked at the maid with drowsy eyes, lingering on her for more than he wanted.
Lilla noticed this but chose to remain silent. Her heart welled with emotions she had carried for years while taking care of the young master. She had essentially become his God mother whether he knew it or not.
Yet, he still failed to realize Lilla was suffering just as much as he was.
As she finished cleaning up, Missio snapped back to reality. Picking up his katana, he left his seat. Exiting the dining hall, he secured the katana into a holster at his lower back. He glanced at an old-school mechanical clock while passing the living room.
The clock ticked — then slowed, its hands dragging through time.
He sighed and halted at the door. He looked back and saw the maid's gentle smile.
"Have a good day at work, my lord."
Biting his lips, he snapped his head forward and exited the manor. He strolled through a flourishing garden and headed towards the garage. The garage's lights flickered on as he stepped inside. He neared an obsidian-like car with an all-black carbon exterior. Drawing its key, he unlocked it. He opened the trunk and threw his katana in.
Then, after slamming it shut, he stepped into the driver's seat. The instant his hands touched the steering wheel, the interior lit up. He widened his eyes. A blue light shot out from the instrument panel, scanning his retina. A moment later, the car activated. Missio shifted into reverse gear and backed out of the garage.
He paused for a moment after leaving the garage. Right then, another car sped by. The noise caused another sharp pain to stab his brain. His vision flickered. The city burned in undying flames as horrible, demonic yet strangely humanoid creatures stormed the city. The cries of the dying citizens filled his ears as smoke rose, impalpable from the land. He gritted his teeth, clutching his head in pain.
"Dammit…"
His grip tightened on the steering wheel, making his knuckles turn white. His breathing became ragged. His heart ached. His brain throbbed as cold sweat dripped down his forehead. The wheel began bending under his might as his veins began popping. His skull felt as if it would cave in on itself.
His eyes flared with crimson light. Golden light flickered across his body as something vast and unfathomable surged around him. Gritting his teeth, he tried desperately to contain himself as something began whispering in his ear.
But, at last, the vision was swept away. Missio's mind settled down. He heaved a sigh of relief, wiping his forehead.
"It's just getting worse… I thought I forgot about it." He mumbled.
Forcing himself to straighten, he gripped the wheel.
"I'll talk about this later with Victor…"
Then, without wasting another moment, he spun around and drove towards the Black Ops HQ…
What would await him there?