Pressure

"Are you brave, Fletcher?" Abigail asked. In the dark, she was at the panel by the door and her hand rested on the dial. "Your father would've wanted you to be brave."

Fletcher stood at the other end of the room. Just like his mother's, his helmet was off and scattered on the floor and so were his gloves and boots. He tried to pull the sleeves of his suit to cover more skin and lowered his chin to his chest as much as he could. Whether he replied because of the fear his mother might toss him over the railing or that he simply wanted to be a good boy, he didn't know anymore. "Y-Yes, Mom."

"Good. That's my boy." The sound the dial made wasn't a steady click but a quick crunch. After Abigail cranked the dial, she then turned around without even looking at the light intensity value on the screen. She moved towards him and stood by his side.

Fletcher saw how far away the red button was. He tugged on his mother's suit. "Mom… Please don't do this. I'm scared."

Abigail knelt down and caressed his cheeks as gentle as any mother would. She smiled but she didn't blink. Her huge piercing eyes were fixated on him. "Oh, Fletcher. Don't be. Once we do this, they'll never go after you. We'll look at the sun. We'll walk in the daylight. Maybe have a picnic outside."

Fletcher's skin crawled. He didn't recognize his mother at all. He didn't understand why she would say those things. Despite the uneasiness that terrified him, he found his voice. "B-But we'll burn, Mom. We shouldn't do—"

"SHHHH." Abigail shushed loudly in his ear and her fists shook in anger. An eerie pause came when the echo of her words faded and the room turned silent.

Fletcher kept his eyes closed and he didn't dare open them. Something bizarre changed in his mother that he wanted no part of. He thought about escaping the room. He thought about the red button. If there was a way to call for Dana, he would.

But then Abigail kissed his forehead. "Why… Why are you fighting me, Fletcher? We don't have time anymore. We have to do this. We have to make your father proud when he gets back home."

"But didn't you say—"

"What did I say?" Abigail's warped face went down to his.

Frightened out of his mind, Fletcher pushed her aside and ran to the door. He jumped for the red button but he couldn't reach it no matter how hard he tried. In bursting tears, he cried out as he pounded on the door. "Someone help! Someone please let us out!"

A figure loomed behind him.

Fletcher didn't want to turn around. Sniveling, he begged, "Mom please… We can't do this…"

"You'll be fine, Fletcher. You'll see. Jonathan will see." Abigail reached for the start button. Tears flowed as she smiled. And with the touch of her fingertip, light engulfed the room.

It was instant, just like a blink or how moments came.

The room was beamed of white light and filled with smoke. The cackle of embers softly lulled the room. The smell of burnt hair and charred skin combined worsened the already suffocating room.

Fletcher slowly opened his eyes. He winced at the sting of the light and covered them with his hand. Two things confused him: why was he alive and what was on his hand. His hand was coated with a black substance like crystalized oil and shadow. He felt that his body was covered in it, even inside the suit. He felt hot but not burned.

Then he remembered his mother. Covering his eyes, he grasped at whatever he could behind him. He felt his mother's suit. He felt elongated rocks. He took one and risked a peek. It wasn't any rock or pebble he knew. He shuddered and dropped it. It was bone.

He wanted to cry but he knew opening his mouth would prove fatal. He pursed his lips but then the crystal wrapped around his hand chipped. He quickly covered it but light had touched his skin and the pain sparked unbearably. He needed to get out of the room. He needed to do it now.

As he stood up, more shards cracked off and the intensity of the pain spiked. He felt his skin singe in scattered small areas around his body. But he knew he had to power through with whatever willpower he had left. He sought the red button but he knew he'd never reach it. He had to take another risk. He had to open his eyes to search for something, anything.

Fletcher opened one eye and peeked through the gap between his fingers. His eyes felt like the sun the moment he did. He only opened it for two seconds but he found what he searched for in the corner of the room as he remembered it. It was still there, his helmet. It was in the corner just nearby the door where he was.

From there, every action he took hurt him. The two steps, the crouching down to get the helmet, and the two steps he took back to get to the red button on the opposite end of the metal door seemed like an eternity and there was more he had to do.

Fletcher placed the helmet on the floor beneath the panel. He took another look at the red button. He stepped on the helmet with one foot. The crystal coating on the sole of his feet cracked. He felt the pain shoot up his leg but he had to keep it together. He could taste the blood in his mouth from snapping down on his lip. He knew he couldn't last any longer. He tested the stability and the crystal's surface proved too slippery to stand on the helmet.

One shot. That's all Fletcher knew he had. He raised his leg and gathered whatever strength was left in him. In one motion, he stomped on the helmet and flames burst beneath his foot. What he traded for the pain was a moment of balanced footing. He stepped on the helmet and used it to propel himself as high as he could as he jumped. He extended his arm high, shards chipped off like glitter, and at the apex of his jump, slammed his hand on the red button.

The lights went off. The crystal on his palm broke free and looked like fireworks of black stars. He crashed to the floor and it sounded like a chandelier fell from the ceiling. He was back in darkness and before the coolness it brought soothed him all the way to slumber, he called out, "M-Mom…"

-----

It took three hours but the golem was subdued. It's wreckage rested around the Mori Industries building like a massive train derailed, coiled around the perimeter. Ambulances and the German government's soldiers were everywhere as the damage spread throughout the city. A soft snowfall descended onto the city like a cold embrace that muted the straggling unrest and heightened emotions. The road to recovery would be bumpy especially the relations between both Fellden and humans.

A black BMW rolled into the battered and broken entranceway of Mori Industries' main building. A forty year old man left the driver's seat and buttoned his dark blue coat. He also made sure his chauffeur hat was snug. The cold in Germany bit fiercer and dug deeper to the bone than New Tokyo's winters and an hour drive from the airport was hardly enough for him to get accustomed to it.

But the man said nothing of it. He believed excuses were the words of someone of lesser character. He loved his job and he was a professional at it. He wiped the fog off his brown-framed glasses with a clean swipe of his mustard and beige open-knuckle gloves. He walked around the expensive car with a posture forged from experience and the honor of being employed by one of the richest families in the world. As if he wasn't early nor late but precisely on time, he opened the passenger door.

A set of black fox ears brushed the car's roof as the man exited the vehicle. He was an Alui dressed in a kimono. His outer clothing, the haori, that reached his knees was light grey and the inner piece of his attire, the nagagi, was as jet black as his short hair and four foot tail, except for the white tip. A matte crimson obi sash wrapped around his waist and held the white pinstriped hakama, the lower part of his attire, in place. "God, I hate the cold."

His presence brought pause to the rescue workers and security officers as a person of higher status would captivate. He paid them no mind. "Thank you, Thomas."

"Of course, Mr. Mori," Thomas replied with a refined courtesy.

"Call me, Akio." The Alui man's voice didn't have that superior tone one would presume from a man of his stature. He wasn't a pushover either even though he spoke just as one would to a friend. There was nothing overwhelming about him but, in reality, that was his charm. He suggested to Thomas, "You better save that title for my father. He's petty like that."

"Pardon me, Mr. Akio," corrected Thomas.

Akio's golden eyes scanned the area with a seemingly dull interest but retained the sharpness of a blade's edge. The entrance alone was as picturesque as a junkyard. The other half of the sliding door was gone. The lights flickered and sparks flew from dangling electrical wires. It was a minefield of debris, blood, and dead bodies. He commented, "My sister would've loved to be here."

"Ms. Akane?" presumed Thomas.

"Yeah. If only she had the hunger for greed as much as she hunted for stories…" Akio muttered.

Akio couldn't erase the sour expression from his face. As a man following his father's footsteps of profit, even without the full picture of the incident, he knew this would cost and not just money. But that wasn't the reason for his frown. He looked at his feet with contempt; For footwear, he wore white tabi socks and wooden setta sandals. He regretted his faithfulness to his attire. "It's freezing."

"Should I procure a pair of boots, Mr. Akio?" offered Thomas.

"M-Mr. Mori?!" An Alui woman's fox ears straightened up. She wore a lab coat and had brown hair and fur. Coming from within the building with a clipboard to her chest, she rushed towards the entrance past what was left of the sliding doors. As soon as she arrived in front of him, she bowed and quickly explained herself, "I'm so sorry, sir! We thought you would arrive much later in the evening! We could speak in the conference room in the undamaged part of—"

"Akio's fine." It was a constant reminder he had to give wherever he went. He crossed his arms. "I read the report but I can't see what needs to be seen in a conference room. Tell me what happened."

"Y-Yes, Mr. Akio." The woman reviewed her clipboard in haste. After a few flips of the pages, she looked around cautiously then proceeded with a lowered voice, "It was some of the Fellden, sir. Our sensors couldn't track their… construction. Either their base of operations was too deep underground or—"

"Felrite," deduced Akio confidently. He crossed his arms. "Fellden gold. The heart of their golems and a wondrous mineral that's heat-resistant and repels everything electrical. That's probably what it was. Did we retrieve the leftovers? There must be some. Have you checked the golem?"

"Yes and regretfully, we haven't found any, Mr. Akio. But we haven't checked the tunnels they made. We'll do a sweep once we regain the functions of our facilities."

"Good. What happened was a shame. " Akio shook his head. He looked at the lifeless metal beast which was surrounded by a pool of water in the snow. Smoke rose from the golem as the snow fell and landed on its still sweltering metal platings. The dullness in his eyes vanished. "You have to applaud their resourcefulness and craftsmanship. It's like it really was a living thing."

The woman had to ask, "What will happen to the Fellden that participated in the attack? Most were killed. Some were detained, even the alleged mastermind of this golem. He was still alive when we pulled his body from the golem crash site. Will they be… killed?"

Akio laughed. "Execution? I wouldn't even think of it. It's a new world, the dawn of second chances. Death is a blip in profit. Funny how humans never understood that. Warmongers are a thing of the past. Peace is the cow you want."

"Mr. Akio…" The woman was relieved to hear the answer she sought. Even if that answer was that of a business perspective, as the Mori family was famous and infamous for, she gladly took it. But then she noticed a Fellden man hidden behind a burning car wreckage. His visor gleamed orange from the flames.

The man knew he was found out. His feet crushed the snow with each step he took as he charged towards Akio with a swordlike scrap of metal.

Akio's golden eyes gleamed over his shoulder. He heard Thomas and the woman rush for his safety but he knew he didn't need to. He turned and faced his assailant. He stretched his arm forward and opened his palm where the Mori family's crest was tattooed in red. The large crest was in the center of a circle and within the outline were Japanese characters of different meanings.

The Fellden man didn't falter. It was the moment he'd been waiting for and he wouldn't let the chance of killing a member of the Mori family pass by. It was because of them that the Fellden lost the war and the man knew that payback was due.

A crimson magical glyph the size of a shield appeared and floated before Akio's open hand. He intertwined his index and middle finger then drew a Japanese kanji inside in the air. The same red energy of the glyph glowed from the tip of his fingers as he traced each stroke of the kanji.

The Fellden let out a roar as he jumped with the scavenged sword held overhead. All he had to do was complete the downward swing and debt was to be paid.

But Akio was done with his spell. His golden eyes shot up at the incoming blow. The magical glyph floated steady in the air and was aimed at the attacker. He cocked his arm back and threw a low-angled strike, a cross between a jab and an uppercut, at the glyph. The glyph shattered upon contact and a mountain of ice shot from the ground, parallel to his strike's form. What he wrote was the kanji for iceberg.

The Fellden man fully accepted the impact on his torso. It was like hitting a wall. All the breath in him was knocked out. He lost his grip on his weapon and the metal piece stabbed nothing but snow and soil. He couldn't move but he was surprised that he was among the living. He looked at the icy wall before him and realized that if it had been a large icicle, he would've been done for. Defeated, he rested his helmet back on the snow.

Security officers arrived at the scene and apprehended the man. He brought to his knees on the cold ground and cuffed. The Alui woman grabbed night vision goggles from an officer and saw the attacker's face. She exclaimed, "Heath?! How did he—"

"Doesn't matter," assured Akio as he stood before Heath. He then addressed the man, "You're lucky fire isn't my forte."

Heath scoffed. "Let this be a reminder. This is what happens when good people get beat a little too much. Life is life, even in the dark."

"That's what this is about?" Akio was taken back. He looked again at the death and destruction around them. Money didn't even enter his mind. "This?! Why this?! And I'm here freezing my toes off! You could've sent your concerns in an email!"

"Trust took too long I suppose…" Heath's voice had a tinge of sadness. Inside his helmet, tears ran down his face. He knew what he did was wrong but he did it anyway. He never expressed how much he was affected by it but Jonathan's passing was the last straw. "Lost my family back in The War and lost good ones here too. You know the thing about pressure? Keep it kept too long and the lid pops off."

"Foolish old man." That was all Akio could say. He understood him but the unfortunate incident left a bitter taste in his mouth. He turned to the woman, "Give me every minor incident that occurred. Maybe we can salvage lessons that should've been learned."

But then the ground rumbled once more.

Akio immediately turned to Heath and demanded, "What's happening?!"

"All this wasn't for them. The Mori family has a hands-on approach, right? Got one of you down here… It was for you." Heath lowered his head and spoke with much regret, "That's no earthquake."

-----

As that late evening raged in another part of the city, Apartment 414 was almost quiet. The evening breeze came and rustled the leaves of the peace lilies on the balcony. The stew had gone cold. Nothing moved within the dark. All that was there was Abigail's suit and bones, an open metal door, and dried bloody footprints that led away from the Light Treatment Room.

'Still there, buddy? That's right. Sorry to disappoint. I'm right here telling you the story, aren't I?'