If one were to tune into Channel 5 of the newly resuscitated New York News Channel, they would be greeted with an in-progress story that had been garnering
quite a bit of attention as of late. Among a lot of the poorer sectors of Earth and space, a movement had been forming out of the seeds sown by the Prefolk
drug empire, one that was beginning to take the form of a serious threat to the ruling class. The seemingly unchecked spread of the drug had not only
intoxicated vast amounts of citizens on both sides, but it's side effects were beginning to take shape in more ways than any one could ever have dreamed -
not only as a thriving underground empire, but as a movement of sorts, of a kind built on a shared connection that was felt among the users, of brotherhood
that extended beyond the material.
Strange occurances of those with unnatural abilities or exotic illnesses were growing more common, as well as riots, especially across the African and Middle Eastern sectors of the Earth Sphere, and the poorer colonies in the Lunar domain. The sudden shift in power of the UTF had many hoping for a change in the regime that would benefit the contries that Neelix's cronies had never lifted a finger to help - but, the new overlord seemed even more distant and apathetic to the problems of the needy in his realm. And, under the influence of not only the drug, but a new force that could not be explained, they began to amass, and plan what would be the single greatest undertaking of their lifetimes: The Exodus.
***
Hamburg, Germany.
Something was happening in Hamburg. Something that had never quite happened before, and with good reason, because most people don't usually just gather together on a hunch. Most normal people don't just go somewhere because they feel like it, and find out that several thousand people have done the same, "just because". No, this was something else, something wholly undocumented in the passing of human history, because there was nothing that was really like it. Thousands of people had gathered at a plateau located just outside the city, where a makeshift stage had been set up, with floodlights pitching down onto it's dirty black surface, the air filled with the curling white breaths of those who had come to visit, wrapped up in winter clothing, a vertible sea of jackets, anoracks, and multicolored scarves that resembled an eskimo army more than it did a dangerous religious cult. One man in particular had stepped up from the fray, a celebrity of sorts, and was now about halfway through his grand speech on the meaning of this gathering, and why they were all called here. From a distance, he didn't look too bad; and could be heard, thanks to an intricate and somewhat low-quality speaker network, all the way at the back.
However, upon closer inspection, most sane men would have recoiled in confusion, or perhaps horror, at the man's appearence. He was thin, wirey even, as though he never ate, but at the same time, radiated a strange kind of strength that defied logic. His voice too, was that of a preacher, deep, consoling, and touching in a way, that seemed utterly unmatched to his warped and somewhat frail body. Perhaps strangest of all, was his head - it was masked by a large paper bag, with one hole for an eye punched into it; with the large "Eye" that Edward and Meirah had become so used to seeing, penciled in blackest charcoal around it's circumference, so large that it wrapped all around the sides of the bag and back. His clothes were dirty and unkempt, but unmistakeably those of a lawyer of some sort. This was the being that they referred to quietly as Mister Shine, for reasons that they seemed to keep to themselves. The news crew on the scene was hard pressed to find a subject to interview - they all seemed to keep together in tightly bound cliques, full of their own rights and lingos - it was like some kind of massive private family getogether, with extra xenophobia sprinkled on top for good measure.
And perhaps the most disturbing aspect of it all was; they were listening. Not just hearing him, but listening too - Understanding and turning over and over his words in their minds. For all his strange appearence, this man had them hanging on his every word - he spoke to something deep inside them that did more than just demand their attention; it captured it.
Mister Shine stalked back and forth across the makeshift stage, gesticulating wildly to the crowds in all directions with every vivid description, every cut and thrust at the society that he had deemed to be so wrong, stoking the flames of fervor even higher than they already were, the beginnings of a whole new breed of "Class Warfare".
"...Do you want to know what's going on? God. Is. HERE!" He proclaimed loudly, raising a wiry fist that curled up somewhat crookedly to point at the skies.
"I know you've all felt it - You've all seen it - The dreams, the, ah, visions - And you all ask one another, "What does it mean?!"
I shall tell you - Yes, I too was visited by my long departed loved ones - My dearest sister, and was told that I was to be a prophet of the all-seeing one. Yes, the great eye that watches over all of us, guides us, keeps us safe - It has finally imparted unto me what we must do. And lo, I beheld it's great visage, and it's very gaze seared my flesh for all eternity - But no, I shall not seek reparation - It is a sacred mark! The flesh is but of this life - but the soul lives forever - my soul burns ever brighter as our numbers grow, as our word is spread, and our day of reckoning draws ever closer!
The all-seeing eye sees all, knows all, undestands all - It is the herald of providence, here to judge to mighty and the humble alike, the coming of the great equalizer! All shall stand trial before it's sight, and the corrupt and materialistic dogs who have ruined the Earth with their petty war will be turned to ash before it's mighty gaze, burned alive with the flames of their own foul passions, fueled by the inky blackness of their hearts! We; the humble, who have only ever aspired to be happy, only to be crushed underfoot by the machinations of those "above" us.
It is we who are the chosen people; we, the humble, the victims of their war - We fought for them thirty years ago, we were promised equality, we were promised peace, we were promised prosperity - And what did we get?
Fear!
Crippling poverty that rends the heart and mind!
Brutal oppression of both body and spirit!
An endless War between Earth and Space, with no end in sight!
And perhaps worst of all, social upheaval!
These new men - they come bearing the same snake oil as the old revolutionaries, selling the same old false elixers - We shall have none of it! We shall not be tempted by the honeyed words of the serpent anymore! We have fought the war of the rich and powerful beaurocrats for too long - My brothers and sisters... We stand here on the cusp of a new age. A new dawn for mankind, after the darkness that we have all been forced to suffer through - A new world, ripe for the taking, just for us!
We hear your calls, oh Lord, we hear what must be done! We hear your summons oh Lord, and we shall soon join with you, under the holy banner of the almighty, to be joined forevermore in eternal brotherhood! Free from hate! Free from poverty! Free from pain! Free at long last from the burden of this Godless world!
"The Exodus begins soon, and with it, the beginning of a new Golden Age for all mankind!"
***
New York, North America
The camera panned back into a brightly lit, newly-repaired studio, and a not-quite-as-repaired newscaster. He was tall, blonde, and with an expensive-looking suit, but one of his long, lanky arms was in a cast, and his bright blonde hair looked a little more scruffy than it had before. It seemed as though Nicholas White, one of the many newscasters for the Channel 5 News took his job seriously, for although he certainly looked worse for wear after the slaughter that had occured at the city just months prior, he was still determined to do his job. He took a short drink from a black coffee mug on the tan desk in front of him before giving the camera an award-winning smirk.
"For those of you just tuning in, that was our coverage of a meeting of minds that occured in Hamburg, Germany yesterday. Although there was no official press release by the group responsible or for that matter, a name that was agreed upon by all persons interviewed on the spot about the gathering, one thing is for certain: They're certainly not your average group of cultists. I'm Nicholas White, and i'll be your host for the evening."
A small video opened up in the upper right corner of the screen as White flicked through some papers absentmindedly as he spoke, displaying a short reel of the UTF's current disasters - the automaton attack on New York, the explosion at the research facility, and lastly, the riots that had been occuring as the power structure of the UTF began to shift.
"In the aftermath of several events that have shattered the former United Terran Federation's grip on power and resources, such as the atomic explosion in the Great Salt Lake Desert and recent assassaination of President Neelix, many families in the former Federation's territories fear for the worst in their futures under the new Union. Furthermore, an explosive growth of the underground drug-smuggling rings has lead to increased crime and weakened police resistence in the transition time between adminstrations, worsening conditions for those on the lower end of the economic spectrum.
It's no surprise that in tough times like these, people have turned towards the guiding light of religion - Specifically, a new religion that has seemingly grown out of the prefolk community. Those among it seem to feel a certain shared purpose that most find difficult to explain; but compare it to the hidden bonds between family members, a shared sense of purpose, and even that of close friends, sharing bonds with people they have never met before, congregating in large groups to discuss their culture and aims as their numbers swell. The meeting in Hamburg, a powerful transportation center for the Federation, attracted thousands of cultists to hear keynote speakers such as the man they have coined "Mister Shine", who calls for radical social reforms to better the social conditions of the working class, which has borne the brunt of the regime's economic instability.
Mister Shine himself is a mystery to all those surrounding him. Some claim that he is simply an extremist with big dreams, others that he is a prophet in the vein of the biblical seers of the same name, and is destined to lead them to the so-called "Promised Land", where they believe that they will be reunited with their God, and truly become one. The Federation's science and drug wing did not immediately respond to calls asking about the nature and ongoing research into prefolk, but it is being acknowledged as a growing societal problem, especially among many of the poorer nations that are still hurting from their losses at the end of the Great Unification War 30 years prior."
***
"Hmm... Just a bunch of rabble rousers. I can't believe the government still hasn't gotten a handle on the prefolk problem - It's getting out of control. I mean, a cult? Really? What are they doing down there?"
A small video screen in a large, glass-and-white room somewhere on the moon clicked off, folding away from the large glass panel it was a part of in a sophisticated, expensive looking way. Alscace Circio unfolded and re-folded his legs, his chin propped up by his fist, as he spoke to his guest. There was a moment of silence as he rounded his chair around to observe his friend in his squat, somehat uncomfortable looking sitting position.
"Still, though..." Said his companion in a somewhat gravelly voice that was reserved for the businessman. "It's an unfortunate truth that internal coups hardly ever bring true peace, I can't fault them for crying out like that."
Richter Vaust looked tired as he unfolded, with a shaky hand, a small package of cigarettes from the inside of his black racing blazer, mumbling a slight curse as he flicked out one of the sticks, to fumble with it. Alscace watched silently, hands crossed in seeming harmlessness, the spitting image of a thinking statue, his own thoughts inconcieveable.
"You might not understand it, but some people need something bigger to believe in just to get by... Especially when their souls are weighed down by gravity... If you were in their shoes, I doubt you'd be as smug as you look now."
He lit up the end of the cigarette, causing a small trail of white to spiral up towards the ceiling. Even his features looked tired, as though he hadn't been getting much sleep, with large black circles around his eyes that hinted at lost nights of sleep, plagued by unseen demons.
"Sometimes you forget - not everyone's as lucky as you, Al." Continued Vaust, lighting up a cigarette as he did with a sigh, exhaling smoke through his nostrils in a practiced fashion as he locked eyes with the industrialist. Before the other man could reply, however, there was an audible click as the door to the darkened room opened, cutting a swath of light into the room. Alscace's face quickly backpedaled from "unfeeling elite" to "corporate casual", with a bright smile reserved only for his most favorite of guests.
"...Ah, that's good, I was just about to send for you, Miss...?"
***
"In our second story, we have recieved word about a breakthrough in the automaton attack case that left many dead or wounded throughout our city before reinforcements from the elite Jormungandr unit were able to put a stop to the rampaging machines. According to police chief Donald Fields, the automaton attack was caused by a sudden change in programming the night before the machines were due to be given proper night-conditions live-fire testing. A computer virus injected into the central mainframe by what we assume was a disgruntled employee was designed to damage the targeting sensors of the units, and make them useless in combat - However, the new type of Operating Systems used by the machines patched the problem automatically, but also engaged the live-fire exercise program with it's preset target memory set to those of friendly UTF troops stationed in the city, as they were the only ones that were in memory as friendly IFF codes.
Police are still investigating the exact nature of the virus, and attempting to track down the perpetrator. We'll make sure to keep you posted... And our hearts go out to those who were affected by this... bloody and utterly meaningless tradgedy."
***
North California, America.
A pair of binoculars focused in on the scene of a UTF base, where Master Cosmos had been only a week or so earlier, a group of UTF Jestas stationed around the site where the HLV had been stolen. The visor focused in a little more until it became blurry, before retracting, leaving the gorgeous Californian wilderness in sight of it's viewer.
"Hmm... That's a shame, I guess I missed him." Muttered the young man, an unshaved, dirty-blonde looking fellow who looked for all in the world like a professional hitchhiker, if his massive backpack and weatherproof clothes weren't enough. He was one of those... fitness people; the kind you know almost the moment you meet them from the sheer aura of good health they exhume. Even though he wasn't very clean shaven, it was very easy to tell from his features and the cut of his gait that he had never been sick a day in his life, and didn't intend to be, and it added a certain kind of physical charisma to him. He gave a shrug, and began to walk back along the rocky precipice he had been edged out along, back towards his tent.
A large tin bucket of water was emptied over a campfire as he made his way back to his tent, smiling slightly as he ran a comb through his hair for what felt like the first time in ages. The smell of breakfast cooking - a fighter's breakfast of a hamsteak, several eggs, sausage, and protein-protein-protein - curled around his nose, and made his mouth water. He dropped down in front of his pan, rescuing it from the dying embers of the fire with a grin.
"Would have been nice, though... To meet the great Master Cosmos in the flesh." He continued out loud after a moment with his mouth half full of ham, seemingly talking to the massive machine that blocked out the sun overhead as he tossed the binoculars into his small blue tent with a flick of a wrist. Somewhere in the distance, a bird chirped as the sun began to rise. He forced down another egg, thumping his neck hard with a tightened fist to force it down with a gasp before leaning back to stare up at the metal visage of his partner suit.
"...Ah well, I'm sure we'll find something to do, eh?" He said with a small smile, rubbing his hands together and grinning into the early morning light as it reflected off the fiery orange armor plates of his mobile suit that lay hunched over the campsite like a proud gargoyle, twin red eyes coming alight in response to his query as the morning dew began to shake off it's hulking hide...
***
White pinched the bridge of his nose on camera, straining hard against his own emotions. They had stayed on during the attack, giving directions to those who needed it over the radion, helping people evacuate, doing everything they humanly could. And then... And then... they had...
He waved away the cameraman's gestures, and continued his work, taking a deep breath before settling in, to finish the last section of his report.
"...And.. Our last article for tonight, on the explosion that took place in the Great Salt Lake storage facility. According to experts, the explosion was definitely nuclear in nature, which is not much of a surprise, as the facility had been, supposedly, constructed on top of a dumping site for depleted uranium for many years even before the Unification War broke out. Some rumors indicate that only a pair of survivors have been found, but again, the government has issued no statement as to their condition. An investigation into the matter is pending, but the treacherous terrain has made progress slow. As has been stated before, we'll keep you updated."
He gave a small sigh, and folded his arms on the desk, seemingly absorbed in his own thoughts for a moment before concluding.
"...And that's all we've got for tonight. I'll see you later at the 12'o clock news, this is Christian White, signing off."
***
And finally, somewhere, glittering in the darkness of the glassy hell that was the desert, a brilliant light stood out across the landscape - a brilliant, burning crimson star against the backdrop, that grew brighter with every passing moment until it supernova'd into a blast of bloody energy, pulsating up, up into the sky like some kind of insane reverse thunderbolt from the swirling center of the glass sea, until it vanished against the glowing sky. Only a lone figure watched it go from on top of a nearby peak, seemingly absorbed in it's own machinations for the time being, gazing out at the crystalized world from a bright red monoeye against the frosty winter morning.
"Hmm..."
Jaquio rose from his squat atop the black, somewhat simple looking mobile suit's shoulder, having bore witness to the whole phoenomenon. He didn't think much of it, other than that it might make for an interesting show later on, but still, for the moment...
"...This could be a problem." He stated to the wind, his voice like the rustling of ancient paper...
Strange occurances of those with unnatural abilities or exotic illnesses were growing more common, as well as riots, especially across the African and Middle Eastern sectors of the Earth Sphere, and the poorer colonies in the Lunar domain. The sudden shift in power of the UTF had many hoping for a change in the regime that would benefit the contries that Neelix's cronies had never lifted a finger to help - but, the new overlord seemed even more distant and apathetic to the problems of the needy in his realm. And, under the influence of not only the drug, but a new force that could not be explained, they began to amass, and plan what would be the single greatest undertaking of their lifetimes: The Exodus.
***
Hamburg, Germany.
Something was happening in Hamburg. Something that had never quite happened before, and with good reason, because most people don't usually just gather together on a hunch. Most normal people don't just go somewhere because they feel like it, and find out that several thousand people have done the same, "just because". No, this was something else, something wholly undocumented in the passing of human history, because there was nothing that was really like it. Thousands of people had gathered at a plateau located just outside the city, where a makeshift stage had been set up, with floodlights pitching down onto it's dirty black surface, the air filled with the curling white breaths of those who had come to visit, wrapped up in winter clothing, a vertible sea of jackets, anoracks, and multicolored scarves that resembled an eskimo army more than it did a dangerous religious cult. One man in particular had stepped up from the fray, a celebrity of sorts, and was now about halfway through his grand speech on the meaning of this gathering, and why they were all called here. From a distance, he didn't look too bad; and could be heard, thanks to an intricate and somewhat low-quality speaker network, all the way at the back.
However, upon closer inspection, most sane men would have recoiled in confusion, or perhaps horror, at the man's appearence. He was thin, wirey even, as though he never ate, but at the same time, radiated a strange kind of strength that defied logic. His voice too, was that of a preacher, deep, consoling, and touching in a way, that seemed utterly unmatched to his warped and somewhat frail body. Perhaps strangest of all, was his head - it was masked by a large paper bag, with one hole for an eye punched into it; with the large "Eye" that Edward and Meirah had become so used to seeing, penciled in blackest charcoal around it's circumference, so large that it wrapped all around the sides of the bag and back. His clothes were dirty and unkempt, but unmistakeably those of a lawyer of some sort. This was the being that they referred to quietly as Mister Shine, for reasons that they seemed to keep to themselves. The news crew on the scene was hard pressed to find a subject to interview - they all seemed to keep together in tightly bound cliques, full of their own rights and lingos - it was like some kind of massive private family getogether, with extra xenophobia sprinkled on top for good measure.
And perhaps the most disturbing aspect of it all was; they were listening. Not just hearing him, but listening too - Understanding and turning over and over his words in their minds. For all his strange appearence, this man had them hanging on his every word - he spoke to something deep inside them that did more than just demand their attention; it captured it.
Mister Shine stalked back and forth across the makeshift stage, gesticulating wildly to the crowds in all directions with every vivid description, every cut and thrust at the society that he had deemed to be so wrong, stoking the flames of fervor even higher than they already were, the beginnings of a whole new breed of "Class Warfare".
"...Do you want to know what's going on? God. Is. HERE!" He proclaimed loudly, raising a wiry fist that curled up somewhat crookedly to point at the skies.
"I know you've all felt it - You've all seen it - The dreams, the, ah, visions - And you all ask one another, "What does it mean?!"
I shall tell you - Yes, I too was visited by my long departed loved ones - My dearest sister, and was told that I was to be a prophet of the all-seeing one. Yes, the great eye that watches over all of us, guides us, keeps us safe - It has finally imparted unto me what we must do. And lo, I beheld it's great visage, and it's very gaze seared my flesh for all eternity - But no, I shall not seek reparation - It is a sacred mark! The flesh is but of this life - but the soul lives forever - my soul burns ever brighter as our numbers grow, as our word is spread, and our day of reckoning draws ever closer!
The all-seeing eye sees all, knows all, undestands all - It is the herald of providence, here to judge to mighty and the humble alike, the coming of the great equalizer! All shall stand trial before it's sight, and the corrupt and materialistic dogs who have ruined the Earth with their petty war will be turned to ash before it's mighty gaze, burned alive with the flames of their own foul passions, fueled by the inky blackness of their hearts! We; the humble, who have only ever aspired to be happy, only to be crushed underfoot by the machinations of those "above" us.
It is we who are the chosen people; we, the humble, the victims of their war - We fought for them thirty years ago, we were promised equality, we were promised peace, we were promised prosperity - And what did we get?
Fear!
Crippling poverty that rends the heart and mind!
Brutal oppression of both body and spirit!
An endless War between Earth and Space, with no end in sight!
And perhaps worst of all, social upheaval!
These new men - they come bearing the same snake oil as the old revolutionaries, selling the same old false elixers - We shall have none of it! We shall not be tempted by the honeyed words of the serpent anymore! We have fought the war of the rich and powerful beaurocrats for too long - My brothers and sisters... We stand here on the cusp of a new age. A new dawn for mankind, after the darkness that we have all been forced to suffer through - A new world, ripe for the taking, just for us!
We hear your calls, oh Lord, we hear what must be done! We hear your summons oh Lord, and we shall soon join with you, under the holy banner of the almighty, to be joined forevermore in eternal brotherhood! Free from hate! Free from poverty! Free from pain! Free at long last from the burden of this Godless world!
"The Exodus begins soon, and with it, the beginning of a new Golden Age for all mankind!"
***
New York, North America
The camera panned back into a brightly lit, newly-repaired studio, and a not-quite-as-repaired newscaster. He was tall, blonde, and with an expensive-looking suit, but one of his long, lanky arms was in a cast, and his bright blonde hair looked a little more scruffy than it had before. It seemed as though Nicholas White, one of the many newscasters for the Channel 5 News took his job seriously, for although he certainly looked worse for wear after the slaughter that had occured at the city just months prior, he was still determined to do his job. He took a short drink from a black coffee mug on the tan desk in front of him before giving the camera an award-winning smirk.
"For those of you just tuning in, that was our coverage of a meeting of minds that occured in Hamburg, Germany yesterday. Although there was no official press release by the group responsible or for that matter, a name that was agreed upon by all persons interviewed on the spot about the gathering, one thing is for certain: They're certainly not your average group of cultists. I'm Nicholas White, and i'll be your host for the evening."
A small video opened up in the upper right corner of the screen as White flicked through some papers absentmindedly as he spoke, displaying a short reel of the UTF's current disasters - the automaton attack on New York, the explosion at the research facility, and lastly, the riots that had been occuring as the power structure of the UTF began to shift.
"In the aftermath of several events that have shattered the former United Terran Federation's grip on power and resources, such as the atomic explosion in the Great Salt Lake Desert and recent assassaination of President Neelix, many families in the former Federation's territories fear for the worst in their futures under the new Union. Furthermore, an explosive growth of the underground drug-smuggling rings has lead to increased crime and weakened police resistence in the transition time between adminstrations, worsening conditions for those on the lower end of the economic spectrum.
It's no surprise that in tough times like these, people have turned towards the guiding light of religion - Specifically, a new religion that has seemingly grown out of the prefolk community. Those among it seem to feel a certain shared purpose that most find difficult to explain; but compare it to the hidden bonds between family members, a shared sense of purpose, and even that of close friends, sharing bonds with people they have never met before, congregating in large groups to discuss their culture and aims as their numbers swell. The meeting in Hamburg, a powerful transportation center for the Federation, attracted thousands of cultists to hear keynote speakers such as the man they have coined "Mister Shine", who calls for radical social reforms to better the social conditions of the working class, which has borne the brunt of the regime's economic instability.
Mister Shine himself is a mystery to all those surrounding him. Some claim that he is simply an extremist with big dreams, others that he is a prophet in the vein of the biblical seers of the same name, and is destined to lead them to the so-called "Promised Land", where they believe that they will be reunited with their God, and truly become one. The Federation's science and drug wing did not immediately respond to calls asking about the nature and ongoing research into prefolk, but it is being acknowledged as a growing societal problem, especially among many of the poorer nations that are still hurting from their losses at the end of the Great Unification War 30 years prior."
***
Framework City; The Moon
"Hmm... Just a bunch of rabble rousers. I can't believe the government still hasn't gotten a handle on the prefolk problem - It's getting out of control. I mean, a cult? Really? What are they doing down there?"
A small video screen in a large, glass-and-white room somewhere on the moon clicked off, folding away from the large glass panel it was a part of in a sophisticated, expensive looking way. Alscace Circio unfolded and re-folded his legs, his chin propped up by his fist, as he spoke to his guest. There was a moment of silence as he rounded his chair around to observe his friend in his squat, somehat uncomfortable looking sitting position.
"Still, though..." Said his companion in a somewhat gravelly voice that was reserved for the businessman. "It's an unfortunate truth that internal coups hardly ever bring true peace, I can't fault them for crying out like that."
Richter Vaust looked tired as he unfolded, with a shaky hand, a small package of cigarettes from the inside of his black racing blazer, mumbling a slight curse as he flicked out one of the sticks, to fumble with it. Alscace watched silently, hands crossed in seeming harmlessness, the spitting image of a thinking statue, his own thoughts inconcieveable.
"You might not understand it, but some people need something bigger to believe in just to get by... Especially when their souls are weighed down by gravity... If you were in their shoes, I doubt you'd be as smug as you look now."
He lit up the end of the cigarette, causing a small trail of white to spiral up towards the ceiling. Even his features looked tired, as though he hadn't been getting much sleep, with large black circles around his eyes that hinted at lost nights of sleep, plagued by unseen demons.
"Sometimes you forget - not everyone's as lucky as you, Al." Continued Vaust, lighting up a cigarette as he did with a sigh, exhaling smoke through his nostrils in a practiced fashion as he locked eyes with the industrialist. Before the other man could reply, however, there was an audible click as the door to the darkened room opened, cutting a swath of light into the room. Alscace's face quickly backpedaled from "unfeeling elite" to "corporate casual", with a bright smile reserved only for his most favorite of guests.
"...Ah, that's good, I was just about to send for you, Miss...?"
***
"In our second story, we have recieved word about a breakthrough in the automaton attack case that left many dead or wounded throughout our city before reinforcements from the elite Jormungandr unit were able to put a stop to the rampaging machines. According to police chief Donald Fields, the automaton attack was caused by a sudden change in programming the night before the machines were due to be given proper night-conditions live-fire testing. A computer virus injected into the central mainframe by what we assume was a disgruntled employee was designed to damage the targeting sensors of the units, and make them useless in combat - However, the new type of Operating Systems used by the machines patched the problem automatically, but also engaged the live-fire exercise program with it's preset target memory set to those of friendly UTF troops stationed in the city, as they were the only ones that were in memory as friendly IFF codes.
Police are still investigating the exact nature of the virus, and attempting to track down the perpetrator. We'll make sure to keep you posted... And our hearts go out to those who were affected by this... bloody and utterly meaningless tradgedy."
***
North California, America.
A pair of binoculars focused in on the scene of a UTF base, where Master Cosmos had been only a week or so earlier, a group of UTF Jestas stationed around the site where the HLV had been stolen. The visor focused in a little more until it became blurry, before retracting, leaving the gorgeous Californian wilderness in sight of it's viewer.
"Hmm... That's a shame, I guess I missed him." Muttered the young man, an unshaved, dirty-blonde looking fellow who looked for all in the world like a professional hitchhiker, if his massive backpack and weatherproof clothes weren't enough. He was one of those... fitness people; the kind you know almost the moment you meet them from the sheer aura of good health they exhume. Even though he wasn't very clean shaven, it was very easy to tell from his features and the cut of his gait that he had never been sick a day in his life, and didn't intend to be, and it added a certain kind of physical charisma to him. He gave a shrug, and began to walk back along the rocky precipice he had been edged out along, back towards his tent.
A large tin bucket of water was emptied over a campfire as he made his way back to his tent, smiling slightly as he ran a comb through his hair for what felt like the first time in ages. The smell of breakfast cooking - a fighter's breakfast of a hamsteak, several eggs, sausage, and protein-protein-protein - curled around his nose, and made his mouth water. He dropped down in front of his pan, rescuing it from the dying embers of the fire with a grin.
"Would have been nice, though... To meet the great Master Cosmos in the flesh." He continued out loud after a moment with his mouth half full of ham, seemingly talking to the massive machine that blocked out the sun overhead as he tossed the binoculars into his small blue tent with a flick of a wrist. Somewhere in the distance, a bird chirped as the sun began to rise. He forced down another egg, thumping his neck hard with a tightened fist to force it down with a gasp before leaning back to stare up at the metal visage of his partner suit.
"...Ah well, I'm sure we'll find something to do, eh?" He said with a small smile, rubbing his hands together and grinning into the early morning light as it reflected off the fiery orange armor plates of his mobile suit that lay hunched over the campsite like a proud gargoyle, twin red eyes coming alight in response to his query as the morning dew began to shake off it's hulking hide...
***
White pinched the bridge of his nose on camera, straining hard against his own emotions. They had stayed on during the attack, giving directions to those who needed it over the radion, helping people evacuate, doing everything they humanly could. And then... And then... they had...
He waved away the cameraman's gestures, and continued his work, taking a deep breath before settling in, to finish the last section of his report.
"...And.. Our last article for tonight, on the explosion that took place in the Great Salt Lake storage facility. According to experts, the explosion was definitely nuclear in nature, which is not much of a surprise, as the facility had been, supposedly, constructed on top of a dumping site for depleted uranium for many years even before the Unification War broke out. Some rumors indicate that only a pair of survivors have been found, but again, the government has issued no statement as to their condition. An investigation into the matter is pending, but the treacherous terrain has made progress slow. As has been stated before, we'll keep you updated."
He gave a small sigh, and folded his arms on the desk, seemingly absorbed in his own thoughts for a moment before concluding.
"...And that's all we've got for tonight. I'll see you later at the 12'o clock news, this is Christian White, signing off."
***
And finally, somewhere, glittering in the darkness of the glassy hell that was the desert, a brilliant light stood out across the landscape - a brilliant, burning crimson star against the backdrop, that grew brighter with every passing moment until it supernova'd into a blast of bloody energy, pulsating up, up into the sky like some kind of insane reverse thunderbolt from the swirling center of the glass sea, until it vanished against the glowing sky. Only a lone figure watched it go from on top of a nearby peak, seemingly absorbed in it's own machinations for the time being, gazing out at the crystalized world from a bright red monoeye against the frosty winter morning.
"Hmm..."
Jaquio rose from his squat atop the black, somewhat simple looking mobile suit's shoulder, having bore witness to the whole phoenomenon. He didn't think much of it, other than that it might make for an interesting show later on, but still, for the moment...
"...This could be a problem." He stated to the wind, his voice like the rustling of ancient paper...
