CHAPTER 35: Live, Love, Laugh, and Cry

Alex now had another thing on his mind. He wanted to tie up the loose ends of Holts' story.

"Holts... you mentioned another X. Where is he? And how did Frilo get into the Brotherhood? You guys never told me that..." To this, Frilo replied.

"Holts here doesn't want the word to spread, even among us. That man should be living peacefully out of harm's way as we speak."

"And how did you end up here, Frilo?"

"The Brotherhood had reached out to me, saying that they had a cure for my blindness. I hesitated on the price of joining them, but relented eventually. After the procedure, I could finally look at the world around me in perfect clarity. I no longer saw people as mere hazy shadows, and could observe the brilliance of color and detail around me. I wrote many songs describing how these underappreciated scenes made me complete and near-whole again. The Brotherhood wasn't a bad place at all. Prejudice had clouded my judgement for the first couple months, but this eventually gave way to genuine friendships. As controversial as it may sound, thieves, gangsters, and murderers are still human like you or I. They can live, love, laugh, and cry. Though there are quite a few exceptions, this is a universal truth. The human soul seeks companionship, and gravitates to those who are most like it. The brotherhood is not your typical mafia gang, anyways. They give people suffering from seemingly incurable illnesses a chance to risk it all. To rise from their decay and live on, stronger and smarter than ever before. AIDS, cancer, terminal illnesses, severe injuries, bad genetics, physical, and mental disabilities. This treatment, when successful, can cure all of them. That is only one of its purposes, though. Moneyman has two main plans: to add to his army of brothers and to destroy the TA. There was tension between him and the TA even before they had become a global power. He had his own way of countering them from the start. He knew the right people, and made his own version of the GMH as the war between the nations and the TA progressed. He waited to test out this new innovation, though. He needed to build his forces up enough to launch a full scale attack on all regions with the TA inhabiting them. That attack has yet to come. We have only sent four corps here to attempt to keep Ethiopia standing. This is our own test run to see if our troops will be effective against the TA's current technology and soldiers. Of course, they have technology that they are willfully holding back, but we have intel to help with that. That brings us to our current state of affairs. Holts came to us a while back in preparation not only for the Ethiopian war, but also for whatever comes afterwards. Enough about the past, let me show you something truly amazing. Watch my fingers and listen closely..." Alex watched as Frilo's fingers climbed every key on the piano, each of the notes graceful and clear. He then descended the keys, completing the chromatic scale. Frilo then spoke.

"Now that you've engraved that into your memory, look away. Hear the song that I play. You are to replicate it later." And so Alex turned his head, burning with the curiosity to turn around. Frilo started to play with a complex acceleration that was unparalleled to any human he had ever heard. Impossible chords played by insane hand movements and melodies that normally take a computer to generate. Alex heard it well, and was surprised how well such a lightning-paced song could sound. It's design spoke of a delicate genius who had mastery over the theory of music. Emotion welled up inside Alex, making him think of all he'd been through. Not just here or there, but his life as a whole. He remembered a time long past when he'd play with his brother on the streets and yards, imagining themselves as important people. Heroes, villains, saviors, conquerors, peacemakers. He remembered a time where imagination flowed as easy as the largest of rivers, with whisking waters everflowing and unstoppable. It was a time of peace and prosperity of the mind, before it was destroyed by the commerciality of life and money. Heroes of that world worked for good, while the ones of this world seldom did. Those gems were of little importance in society's views. The masses were focused on all that was wrong, offering blame, but never a worthwhile solution. They toiled over what they wanted and cared for, totally indifferent to those who were so much like them never given a helping hand. That was every child's dream. That the world they lived in could be simplified and viewed in a way where everyone could understand. It was alway "they" or "I" in their hearts, and not a "we". People that wanted to help were often pushed to the sidelines, society supposedly praising them for their efforts, while others scoffed at them for such stupid, childish ideas. Selfish dictators and tyrants rose and sullied ideas that would never work, but also ruined the completely different yet seemingly similar ideas that did. People were stupid, they said. People would never understand each other, they said. They were wrong, at least in Alex's eyes. If World War III had proven anything, it was that humans had the potential to work in harmony, given a severe enough motive. Though this occurrence was not guaranteed, it was done, and with surprising success at that. They did fall, but did not fall alone. Because of that war, there were increased tensions and nations "controlled" by the TA, but only a small number of nations had actually perished due to those overthrowings. Had they not been unified, the TA wouldn't have settled with just a few. They would've been able to take as many as they pleased. They did not want to continue the war, perhaps to push back the risk of a GMH discovery from just one of the countries. All the countries needed was the genome of one GMH, and they could at the very least send the genetic information across the world and clone the soldier hundreds of thousands of times. It was through this combined effort that many countries were able to remain standing, changed, but recognizable. The TA asked to have colonies in the rest of the nations and a trade of their resources as part of their agreement. The nations agreed, sick of war and blood. The music stopped, and Frilo turned around in the seat.

"Now you play." He said as he stood up and slid off to the side. Alex hesitantly sat down and put his fingers gently to the old keys that were played from person to person. He felt the key's long history and humble origin. It was the kind of ancient artifact you find at a small church or at the corner of an old bar, always ready to pull out one more sentimental piece. The remnants of hundreds of players emitted from the keys, the newer ones from scent and the others from its wear of tear visage. He was a guest, invited to this hall of the remembered, though he thought it sacrilege to be here on this relic of good cultures and times. He looked down the keys, each reminding him of which note he heard on the scale. The song Frilo had played looped in his head like a broken record. The first note was pressed, and all other notes fit into place. He had remembered the different hand positions from live playings he had witnessed years ago. Both consciously and unconsciously, his brain was working to complete this puzzle piece by piece. He realized new things as he went along, including the relative tune between any two notes and his own suggestions on how to create style changes in the piece. There was one part that he failed to mimic, however. It was Frilo's technique of unique personal emotion. He tried over and over, attempting a new approach each time without success. He laid his hands back to his side, posting onto the seat.

"Pretty cool, right? And definitely not bad, for your first time playing that song. Now, why do you think I told you to do this?" Frilo said with a grin.

"Hmm… to show me the limits of my mind?" Alex guessed.

"Yup! Though you've seen just how much you recall, you cannot repeat something that you cannot see or predict. My method for playing that part goes as follows:" Frilo walked up and stood beside Alex, falling lazily onto the left side of the seat. He performed his signature technique that eluded Alex, who had to increase his perception rate a small amount to just keep up with the movements. As soon as Frilo stopped playing, Alex jerked his hand upwards, full of excitement and anxious to play. Frilo moved his hands away from the piano and onto his knees, staring at Alex intently as if he was seeing a miracle right before his eyes. Alex started from the beginning again, and progressed with a beauty even more refined than last time, due to some minor adjustments and newfound knowledge. The notes rolled off as naturally as he'd breathed. He had played the song in its complete form, nearly as well as Frilo himself had done. This entire time, Frilo's smile had slowly increased towards the upcoming hard part. As soon as Alex struck the last key, a laugh as awkward as it was genuine came bursting from the far reaches of his throat. Frilo slung his arm around Alex and tilted his arm back. Alex couldn't help but chuckle. A small row of Brotherhood and Ethiopian soldiers that were relaxing in the room the entire time started clapping. Alex's face turned red and shied away from the crowd.

"You did it! You now know how to play the piano! As we said earlier, it can take around 10 days to master something. But that number is highly dependent on the task at hand. The movements of fingers pressing keys are pretty simple, but require a lot of procedural memory to form the fragments into a song. We are now masters of all types of memory, leading us to the point where we can play even the hardest pieces of music in one try, provided we observed and listened sometime in the past. This is also a curse, because in order to remove any negative memory, we must consciously do so. Consciously forgetting about a traumatic time can sometimes leave us with an aftertaste of guilt and mystery. Not many of us do it, anyways. Though we cannot forget, over time these memories lose some of their bite once you grow in experience. I would recommend method two, though I would say using the manual erase for the most scarring of experiences, such as Holt's venom, is also advisable. Speaking of which, how do you feel about that?" Frilo's voice waived up and down smoothly and joyfully.

"You're right... I did notice that those phantom pains and my fears are gone, though if I was in a situation like that again, I would be pretty scared! How does that work?"

"Ask Maxwell, not me! You got his phone number, right?" Frilo chirped with a smile.

"Thanks for this, Frilo. This all really meant a lot to me. I've been left in the dark about so many things, it's good to have some time to catch up at a normal pace. I love the piece you taught me. Can't wait to play it elsewhere when we can finally have peace. I wish I had more time to learn all the songs you've played over the years..." Alex said, a hint of disappointment creeping into his voice.

"Don't worry about it. After this war is over, you and I can practice all you'd like. We can even learn some new songs together. Holts here will be joining us, too. He's got a lot to learn with you. And If we get bored, we can move on to acting, and onto movies and shows and other fun stuff. There's almost nothing in this world that beats binge watching with the bros" Frilo said matter-of-factly. Alex looked over to Holts to see him abstaining from eye contact. His face was purposefully turned at an angle.

"What's the matter, Holts?" Alex said in a slightly taunting but obviously joking voice.

"Nothing… It's just the nostalgia… hits pretty hard" He said, rubbing the inner corners of his puffy eyelids and letting out a meek laugh that Alex never thought possible from a man such as he.

"Let's go..." Holts said, changing the subject.

"Hold up… wait!" A voice from behind them came. There were two men, both Ethiopian soldiers, walking up to the group of three. One was shorter and stockier with a crooked nose and balding hair, the other a taller, younger man not too much older than Alex with a nose so large and pointed Alex had wondered if he had inside jokes about it. The taller one had a smooth caramel skin tone while the other was slightly darker than the mix of milk and dark chocolate that Holts' tone was. The tall man also had wide, flamboyant ice-colored eyes with a small hint of a soft blue, paired with short, curled hair. He looked similar to actors like him you saw on TV. The other man, on the other hand, had small, rather uninteresting eyes. Alex didn't know why, but brown eyes were unappealing and dull to him. Perhaps this was because he himself had similar hazel eyes, that were lighter but still never talked about. He had always slightly envied those who had beautiful eyes ablaze with colors mysterious and aweing. The tall man spoke again.

"Hi, my name's Abel, and that was your first time playing? That's amazing! I want to become a GMH, but there is no time left. I can't believe that such a thing is actually possible. Thought it would at least be another hundred years before something like this happened." Abel said in a unique accent. He spoke very good English, to Alex's surprise. He had known the main language here was Amharic alongside a large diversity of other languages he'd never even heard of before a little research.

"It surprised me, too. I'm kinda new to all this, you know." Alex said with a bare-toothed smile. Abel's eyes widened ever so slightly, enough for Alex to notice. He caught a glimpse of either fear or disgust.

"What's wrong?" Alex asked, a little confused.

"It's nothing… those teeth kinda surprised me." He said, the uneasiness in his voice muffled but just barely noticeable. Now that Alex thought about it, his teeth would be very unsettling to the average person. He had realized Holts and Frilo usually used an awkward closed-mouth smile unless they were ecstatic about something. They were used to showing courtesy to humans by not baring the fangs they had. Alex once was intimidated by the teeth of others like him, too, but had quickly grown used to it due to the fact that he himself owned them. Coupled with their larger bodies and abnormally muscular appearance, Alex could definitely see how some unrest, fear, and prejudice might form. And Frilo and Holts had to deal with this, too?

"My bad. Sorry for scaring you like that. I need to be more self-aware..." Alex said, unconsciously covering his hands in front of his mouth. After he saw this, Abel twinged with the realization of a guilty conscience.

"N-No problem. As I said, I'll soon be getting my own pair, if I can. They gotta let me!" Abel said, making a sad attempt at distracting from the awkward situation. Holts was on the case.

"Man, we've still got a lot to do today, we'll see you guys later. And Abel? Make sure you know what you're getting into regarding a GMH procedure. It's illegal, and with how our society is set up today, we might not even be guaranteed basic human rights! Even if we do get our rights, we are a minority in a world that is not used to us. Keep that in mind." Holts said in a tone that showed off the confidence he had as an experienced veteran. They said their last goodbyes quickly and with a closed mouth smile, which was more uncomfortable than Alex had anticipated.

"So, where ARE we going next?" Alex asked curiously, in pretty good spirits.

"Black Mamba." Frilo said simply.

"What?"

"Camilia Ross. A veteran Brotherhood member who'll beat the shit out of you until there is no more." Both Frilo and Holts shivered as if they remembered something traumatic "Not today, though. Thank god. You'll only meet her today. We'll only be talking about how you can improve. We'll be focusing on close quarters combat. Your gun can only get you so far against the likes of Midnight or assassins as high as the commander status."

"Commander?"

"It's just a title. Believe it or not, they do rank their members. It's so the clients feel secure about getting a job done. The higher the rank, the more you can assure a successful hit and coverup. The commanders are extremely deadly, so much so that I've never heard of one failing their assigned missions. Then again, our intel is limited. The commanders also have control over a group if more than one member is needed, obviously. As for the infamous Seven Plagues, with "Kingslayer" LeRoy as their commander they don't even do cover-ups. They can kill as they please without any military or police force powerful enough to stop them. They are the seven strongest assassins we should worry about right now. Coupled with Midnight, the guns seem almost useless. Intel suggested that, even when his bare body stripped of the power for his X enigma, he survived weapons such as rotary cannons and high-power lasers. On the bright side, his power was finally recorded. He can manipulate the shape and hardness of an unknown blackish substance. He can make it completely bullet-proof, and can even resist a carpet-bombing or two without damage. Thankfully, we found out that is what initially ran him dry. We're wondering if the heat is what did it rather than the impacts. That is one test you should try when you actually meet him face-to-face. Of course, you've gotta get pretty up-close and personal for that, which rounds us back to close combat. There's no one here as good at that than the queen of the Brotherhood herself."

"The Queen?"

"Yup, Cammy's the queen. I wouldn't argue with that."

They were walking down a hall he'd only been through in the virtual base. That's when it sounded. The siren. A proclamation of war. The siege on the keystone base of Ethiopia had begun. Frilo cursed and signaled Holts to stay by Alex's side. Why did this have to happen so soon? Wasn't there more time? Alex felt frozen in place, the pressure of his own mind doing him in. "One life, one chance" echoed in his head as all of his previous deaths came to haunt him. He was not prepared. He could not win in the state that he was in. Why did the universe hate him so much? But Holts was prepared. He had the black seraph, Alex's staff, with him. Just not the armor. And the staff was useless in Alex's non-powered, vulnerable state. He tossed Alex the staff.

"Wait, why did you guys bring me here before I was fully-functional? What if I die, then what happens? I don't even have any protection!"

"We need you as soon as possible. Even a few minutes can turn the tides of today's battle. And you have protection, that's what I'm here for. Stay calm, Alex. They came early, are you going to let yourself get killed because of that?!"

"No! Just, hand me a pistol, or something."

"We need to get your suit first. We never leave it far away from you, just in case. I know where it is, follow me."

As the two ran through the hallway, bursts of vibrations and bellowing cracks and thunders of sound erupted from both the skies and the ground. Bombs.

"Where are they coming from?!" Alex asked intently.

"Fired remotely. We have our own missile interception systems, but they're not good enough. One or two must be slipping by and hitting their mark on the ground. This isn't good..." Holts said as Alex heard a rainstorm of rockets being fired and connecting, with the occasional earthquake marking a successful hit. The shaking threw Alex to the ground.

"Oh shit, they're going off closer to us!" Alex said with a deep anxiety in his voice. What would happen if he was blown up before even putting on the protection. And these were no ordinary bombs, what would the suit do, anyways? Gunshots. He heard gunshots. Yelling. Commanding. Individual's voices interrupted with a terrible silence or the shouting of a person just barely holding together physically or mentally or not at all. The air felt dangerous. But not in a way one would expect. It was not a challenge to overcome, nor a villain to face. In its presence, one could only feel helpless, hopeless. It was a danger that was fluid, and unstopping. You were never safe. You were never at peace. The adrenaline made you awake and delusioned at the same time. It was like you were in a dream. But trapped there. Your movements, they felt semi-detached from your thoughts, your consciousness. Your choices are thin and they all seem wrong. There was a part of Alex that was thoroughly against him. "Make it stop." it said. It didn't want to do this. It would rather die than live for god knew how many more hours before this nightmare would end. So far, it had been a mere thirty seconds. He couldn't possibly hold out for that long, if not physically, mentally. He was already tired. But there was a voice. A small, weak one being shouted over by delusion of flawed reason. "Survive." It said, "I don't want to die." Why is it that this voice inside his head was so small? It was a rational decision. To survive or die, it seemed so simple. Alex scrambled to his feet and sprinted full force forward, leaving a surprised Holts in the dust. Holts caught up just enough to direct him to the room. Protection at last. Alex shoved on his equipment with all of his supplies ready to go. He slid on his helmet as it tightened around him. The parts linked, forming an airtight bond.

"Make sure it's only set to 'filter'. We don't want to exhaust your oxygen reserves before you even need them."

"All good."

"Okay. Our next plan is to get to a heavily fortified part of the base and wait it out. You should know where that-"

Footsteps. Soft, calm, creeping footsteps. So unlike the soldiers running throughout the base. Holts had noticed it, too. The stench of blood, metal, and burnt rubber wisped through their last hallway to safety. Then it made its entrance. What an abomination. Three. six. no, nine eye-like cameras? It was clearly made of metal, and had a skeletal complexion, but it's design was so organic in nature. It was clearly a machine, but it seemed to cross an uncanny valley of life. The way it moved, it seemed… so curious, so intelligent. Then Alex had his revelation as soon as Holts grabbed his shoulder to pull him back behind the wall. It had already seen them. He didn't want to take his eyes off of it for even a second. Before Alex and Holts could even turn around to sprint towards the alternate exit, the bipedal machine was already inches behind him. An entire hallway in a second, was this the speed and power he had to compete with. Holts threw Alex backwards away from harm and narrowly ducked a swipe from its sickle-like claws. He had no choice but to shoot his sniper rifle from point blank to buy a few moments of precious time. The recoil sent the rifle straight into Holts' shoulder. Alex could only hear a painful grunt from his mentor. The raw force of the bullet sent the machine's upper body backwards, leaving a significant dent but no penetration.

"SHIT!" Holts said as he lost his composure. The machine was already preparing for another full on attack. A fateful second, Alex would have to endure. Time itself stopped for Alex as he saw his teacher, his ally, his friend bare needle-like claws through his back. A clean, perfect hit. Even for a modified human, blood loss was extremely lethal. Blood ran down Holts' clothes as the creature prepared to throw him aside. It yanked its hand to the side. Holts did not budge, his hands were locked onto its limb. A demented smile came across his face as his darkened eyes glared into the cameras of the intrigued machine. Out from Holts' mouth shot out an opaque black liquid that covered the head of the creature, much like a cobra spitting at its predator. The lenses were blackened out and the metal rings encircling the glass started fizzling.

"Now, Alex!" Holts shouted. Alex, in a panic, jumped onto the back of the machine. He quickly swung around his body, applying what little maneuvering skill he had learned to keep the rampant reaper from swiping at any vital points or throwing him off, locking his legs around the machine's neck for only a moment. He saw his opening. The dissolved rings gave way to some circuitry lying deep within. Alex reached into his belt and pulled out a grenade. With all the force he could muster, he jammed the slim grenade in between the lens and the metal coat making up the primary body armor on the rest of the thing's head. Snug and tight. Alex then swung the creature's head down to standing level with his upper body and dropped his legs down to touch his feet to the ground, immediately boosting the robot's head into the wall, the side with the grenade facing into the wall. It was so sloppy, but thankfully he got this far. With a loud bang, Alex felt the inner vibrations of metal blasting throughout the insides of the creature's head. He released his grip, his hand shaking from the physical trauma it just endured. It hurt like hell. The creature went motionless. Alex wasn't going to be fooled. Without hesitation, He put his last grenade within the widened hole that led all the way down the creature's chest cavity, a tunnel cleared by the explosion. The machine was quick to catch on. With lightning fast reaction time, it used its legs to tackle Alex towards the other wall. But it was too late, almost. The robot's chest cavity ruptured with the internal pressure, but it had aimed the very opening Alex had used to plant the bomb at him, causing the metal to catch his chest and shoulder. Alex slid down the wall, demobilized by the pain. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, he felt like fainting. Come on. Come on. Come on. Keep it together. Stop tensing. Stop tensing. Shit. Shit. SHIT! Alex drifted his fading vision to Holts, whose wounds were opened due to the robot launching itself.

"Good job, Alex. We survived." He said with a tensing voice.

"Ha. Ha. Ha ha ha hahahahaha..." Holts could hear the tension expelling from Alex's weak guttural laughs as they faded into grim silence.

"Will you be OK?" Alex said in a hollow, detached voice.

"Me? I'll be fine. You?"

"These wounds? Sure they're painful, but I'm not bleeding as bad as you are. Got lucky, they missed any big veins and arteries. That's all I care about. Thanks for the acid, bastard sure didn't expect that! Otherwise we'd be dead!" He said as he used his arms to get up to prove to Holts how much of a non-issue it was. But for Holts, it could be the end of the line.

"We need to get you some medical attention, and fast." Alex spoke confidently. He knew Holts would put up a fuss.

"No. We're going where I said. We just need to… pick a… different..." Holts nodded off into unconsciousness. For the first time, Alex was genuinely on his own. All Alex could do was apply pressure to Holts' wounds, and drag him onwards. Who knows how many more there were, if they had already breached the base. The bombs were still going off. Wait, were they launching these machines alongside them? That must be it. That would explain why the machine was in the hallway alone. That meant there must be many more where that came from. But they would also be scattered randomly. No GMH enemies yet, he would've noticed by now, and the bombs that were still dropping should keep them out for now. There was hope. Alex held Holts in his arms and ran as fast as he could. The pain was fading, but exhaustion was starting to creep in. He was moving too fast. Not enough air. Alex slowed down. Not because you chose to, but because his body physically wouldn't allow him to. This sucked. Every body had its limitations, no matter how its changed and modified. He slowed down to only forty miles an hour. He completed his final turn and saw his escape. Blocked. Brotherhood members desperately fighting off a single machine, this time with a cat-like physique. Slim, agile, and strong. Bladed tail. He did not stop. It was too late, too much momentum. Instead he pushed forward, taking in a deep breath and pushing past his exhaustion. The final stretch. Do or die, yet again. Alex let off a deep scream as soon as the nine-eyed cat strayed its attention towards him. Alex proceeded to heave the huge body of Holts through the air like a bag of sand. Before the devil could impale the limp body, Alex took the risk of diving straight forward to grasp the lunging tail, gashing his gloves and fingers as the blades ran along them. The tail now in his hands and drunk on rage, fear, and regret, Alex removed a hand and shoved his fingers between the slim segmented neck plates while sitting atop the creature. The segments closed, trapping his fingers, but this annoyance pestered the beast to no end. The brotherhood used this chance to fire a heavy round at its face. But it knew how to multitask. It swung its body, a sonic clap booming through Alex's ear drum as he almost was swung off, had it not been for his legs tight grip. They missed. The projectile zoomed through the hallway, destroying the wall in the very back. The tail struggled free, whipping Alex to the side, slashing through his chest plate but thankfully only scratching his chest. The robotic cat leaped forward, claws dawned. On his back, Alex raised his legs in front of him and dealt a swift kick, launching it back into the ceiling, its claws grazing his shin plates. Alex scrambled behind the line of his allies beside Holts, who was luckily already being treated. Finally, other people to rely on.

"I don't know whether to call you a badass or a dumbass, son. That was insane." A tall dark woman with beautifully colored braids commended him as she leaned on the wall, causing a spark to light, revealing to Alex the multiple hair-thin wires that had been laid around the hallway. The wires tightened around the beast, somehow immobilizing it. She casually pulled out a gun that looked similar to a grenade launcher.

"Any weakness you know of, kid? Those wounds on the Holts weren't caused by bombs. Meaning you escaped one of these… things."

"Holts' acid..." Alex said hastily, stuttering to get the words out. "On the… uhm… eye ring"

"Gotchu, kid." She said as she reached for a glass vial. She opened Holts' mouth and reached her fingers in so casually. A second later the acid sprayed into the glass and filled it up. She plugged the vial's small mouth with a stopper, and loaded it into the gun. She raised the gun toward the beast, and shot. The metal rings melted as expected and the opaque liquid blinded the thing. Now was time for the finishing blow.

"Now, just use the opening and-" Alex was cut off by the woman.

"Don't need to tell me, kid." The woman said as she took a knife and cleaved open the gap, exposing the mechanical animal's insides while loading the real ammunition into the same gun. The blast from the gun went straight through the entire animal, powering it off instantly.

"Damn rodent."