Argument

"Princess, you okay?" My father's voice cut through my thoughts concern evident in it.

Arthur Varon was not a man accustomed to being ignored, least of all by his own daughter.

I turned to face him, my red eyes meeting his green ones.

"Yeah dad, I'm fine," I said. "Just thinking."

His face softened, a proud smile spreading across his features. "Guess you really are my daughter then, ha!" His laugh almost contagious.

Yet as I stood there, surrounded by the fruits of my father's genius, I felt more out of place than ever. I wasn't like Hector or my father, finding joy in the building of cables and other machines. And while I could handle economic matters better than most, I knew I'd never approach my father's mastery of the subject.

The truth was simple, stark as the artificial light that bathed the lab: I didn't belong here.

My place was out there, in the Rock Field, where monsters roamed and danger lurked around every corner. My father was reactive, content to wait and plan and build his defenses. But I couldn't do that. I wouldn't stand by while others safeguarded my future. My father's words from earlier echoed in my mind: I could rely only on myself.

Decision made, I squared my shoulders and met my father's gaze. "Dad?"

"Yes, princess?" His voice was warm, indulgent.

"I'm going to make a team," I continued, "We're going south to find new mines."

The words hung in the air, heavy as lead. Hector, still standing nearby, opened his mouth as if to speak, but before he could utter a sound, the atmosphere in the lab changed.

Devourer intent rolled out from my father in waves, an invisible force that bore down on us all. Hector, not even a Devourer yet, buckled under the pressure immediately. He fell to his knees, gasping, sweat beading on his brow.

But I stood tall, my red eyes locked on my father's green ones. I could feel his intent pressing against me, trying to cow me into submission, but he couldn't.

Sure, he was a Monstrum and could most certainly defeat me in a head on fight, but he had become one by eating only one organ from each of his devourings. The truth was, my father was weak, and his intent couldn't even pressure me now.

I stepped closer to him, my own power rising to meet his. "I'm forming a team of Beastwalkers and myself," I said, my voice low but firm. "We're leaving south."

His only response was to intensify his intent, the pressure in the room becoming almost unbearable. The engineers scattered, backing away from our confrontation. Most of them were at most Neophytes, having consumed an organ or two at most. 

I'd had enough. I unleashed my own intent, letting it embrace me fully. The hunger rose within me, exhilarating, powerful and so, so... beautiful.

"I'm going, dad," I said, my voice ringing with certainty.

Still, he remained silent, his intent pressing against mine trying to make me kneel, cower? I honestly didn't know his end goal but I wasn't going to let him do with me as he pleased.

"I said I'm going," I repeated, my patience wearing thin.

The silence stretched between us, thick and oppressive.

Finally, I played my trump card. "This is what I can do for the Varon family."

Those words seemed to break through his resolve. His intent faltered for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was strained. "No, Elizabeth."

I gritted my teeth at the sound of that hated name. "Why not?"

"Even Haly won't send Archdevourers," he said, his voice regaining some of its usual authority. "I'm not sending you."

"You're not sending me," I shot back. "I'm choosing to go. And you know as well as I do that Haly would send Archdevourers if it weren't because she wants to decrease the pull we have in the city by lessening our earnings."

His face hardened, the lines around his eyes deepening. "I prohibit it."

The Devourer intent around him grew stronger, but I could see the strain it was putting on him. My father couldn't manage his hunger well, and maintaining this level of intent was taking its toll.

"We'll continue this talk later," he said, his voice tight with barely contained emotion. "Hector, please bring my daughter back home."

At the sound of his name, Hector struggled to his feet. He was gasping, his knees barely able to support his weight. Sweat dripped from his unruly black hair, staining his collar.

As soon as my father finished speaking, the oppressive intent in the room dissipated. I pulled my own power back, watching as he seemed to sag slightly, the effort of maintaining his intent clearly having drained him.

I turned to Hector, offering him my hand. "Let's go," I said, my voice softer now.

Hector nodded, grasping my hand with his gloved one. The material was stained with whatever substance he had been working on, and it left smears on my skin. As we began to walk away, I heard my father's voice, so soft I almost missed it.

"Maria, what should I--" The rest was lost as we moved out of earshot, but I felt a pang in my chest. Maria – my mother's name. Even now, years after her death, he still turned to her for guidance.

As we walked, Hector slowly regained his composure. His breathing evened out, and his steps became steadier. I could feel his eyes on me, studying my profile as we made our way through the corridors of the lab.

"Hey Eli," Hector said, breaking the silence. "Sorry for the ornate."

I looked down at my stained hands, the dark substance a stark contrast against my skin. "Is that what this is called?"

"Yeah," Hector replied, a hint of pride creeping into his voice despite his obvious discomfort. "Again, sorry for staining you, though it should go away with a simple rinse."

"Don't worry, Hector," I said, offering him a small smile. "It's fine."

We lapsed back into silence, the only sound the echo of our footsteps and the distant hum of machinery. Hector kept running his hand through his hair, a nervous habit that left streaks of the ornate substance in his dark locks.

Finally, as we approached the elevator, Hector spoke again. "You really shouldn't have talked to the professor like that."

My jaw tightened. "He can take it."

"Still," Hector pressed, his voice gentle but insistent. "To go beyond the Rock Field? Are you sure that's smart?"

I paused, considering my answer. "I don't know if it's smart," I admitted. "But it feels like something I need to do."

Hector nodded, accepting my answer even if he didn't agree with it. We reached the elevator, and he removed his glove to place his hand on the scanner. I caught a glimpse of his palm, startlingly white against his tanned skin.

For a moment, I felt a pang of envy at his coloring, so different from my own complexion. But I pushed the feeling aside. There were more important things to focus on now.

The robotic voice of the elevator's AI broke the silence. [Hector Ton, head engineer of Varon Industries.]

The doors slid open with a soft hiss. Hector turned to the control panel. "Varon Household, please," he said clearly.

I stepped into the elevator, but before the doors could close, I caught Hector's eye. "Bye, Hector," I said, suddenly feeling very weird about confronting my dad.

"See you later, Eli," Hector replied, his voice carrying a note of uncertainty. As if he wasn't sure if he would, in fact, see me later.

As the doors closed and the elevator began its ascent, I leaned against the cool metal wall. My mind raced with plans and possibilities.

I knew my father wouldn't give up easily, but neither would I. He would most likely come to me later and by that time I'd have a plan that would convince him or one that would let me escape Plethegon.