Moving Forward

The air of the Phantom Sentry HQ was practically choked with tension as the usual hum of cold and calm efficiency had shifted into something more chaotic and unnatural. Officers walked quickly down the halls, the urgency in their movements extremely easy to pick up on from the way their boots hit the tiles. Stoicism and control was replaced with quiet whispers and cursory glances into the less open parts of the building, a collective feeling of unease settling into every single member of the Sentry present, regardless of their rank. The events that went down in the Hollow Wing didn't merely shake the Sentry's daily operations—it had created a ripple of terror and suspicion that could be felt throughout the entire organization. 

Supervisor Rhys was dead. 

Her cruel and unusual demise not only left the initiates without a proper leader, but worse still, had cast a shadow of something truly evil over all of them. Of course, nobody spoke of it out loud, but it hung in the air, unspoken yet ever present. Not only did she die; but she had been corrupted, twisted into something monstrous and unnatural, an affront to all that was considered natural. And when she had turned on them with those soulless, empty eyes, her gaze had been transfixed on Kiehra. Though Rhys's mind was fractured, there was no doubt that that was a look of recognition, blame…perhaps something even worse.

The Hollow Wing, which already had an eerie reputation surrounding it, was now closed off entirely. Once a source of rumor and mystery, it had become something forsaken, a cursed place akin to the Field of Fallen Gods. The silence that hung behind those barred doors was oppressive and heavy, giving the feeling that it was pressing against the walls themselves. Investigators had descended upon the HQ like vultures to a carcass, questioning officers, picking apart files and dissecting everything that raised the tiniest sliver of suspicion. They were ruthless in their precision, scrutinizing everything about the Phantom Sentry from the inside out. 

Kiehra could barely keep herself together. 

She sat woodenly in the locker room for newly appointed Sentry Officers, hands gripping onto her thighs so hard that the bench she was seated on started vibrating. Her eyes were closed shut as she tried vainly to push the memories away, to stop them from resurfacing—but they never stopped. Every detail of the fight flooded her mind like a tidal wave, crashing against her shaky resolve, threatening to unleash the breakdown she'd tried so hard to keep from happening. 

"You did this to me…you made me this…"

Why? What could have spurred Rhys on to say that? Kiehra's stomach twisted into a knot, and she fought to keep herself from gagging. She rested her head against her knees, trying to make sense of it all, trying to rationalize and tell herself that there was nothing she could have done. Kiehra knew deep down that she wouldn't have been able to use more power. She might have killed Riona or Fabian in the process, or brought the building down, or caused some other catastrophic disaster. She knew all this, and yet guilt clawed at her, its jaws insatiable.

"Heeeeeey champ," Three's voice slithered into her thoughts, heavy with sympathy. Her mind had been so occupied with the haunting visions of what happened to Rhys that she'd been unable to properly hear her spirit companion's voice until now. "I know you've been through a lot these past 24 hours, and I am truly sorry that you witnessed…all that. But, you can't afford to fall apart now. The higher-ups are watching everyone like hawks., and it's only a matter of time until the Captains make themselves known. Just…be careful…please?" 

Kiehra exhaled slowly, forcing herself to reply. "I'm just….why? She was blaming me Three. Why…what did she mean?"

"Perhaps her memories got all muddled up," Three murmured, unable to hide the uncertainty he also felt. "But who knows? I've never seen something like what happened to Rhys, though that ink substance definitely rings a bell. It was unnatural…unholy…" his words trailed off for a moment, but he quickly regained his composure. "Regardless, there's nothing else we can do other than move forward. Don't let it get to ya. It wasn't your fault."

Move forward. 

It was easy to say. Too easy. Unfortunately, it felt like a genuinely insurmountable task. How exactly does one move on from something like that? To just continue breathing, continue living life like nothing was wrong when she watched someone she knew she could save turn into a nightmare and be torn apart in front of her own eyes? Kiehra wanted to die. This new uniform she was wearing—the pride and joy of every newly appointed Sentry Officer—was suffocating. The gray and black fabric felt heavy and restrictive, drowning her instead of filling her with any sense of accomplishment. A rank that many people across Gehenna fought to reach; here she was a proven member, and she couldn't ever bear to look at her badge. 

It felt like a punishment. 

Had she truly earned this? She didn't feel like it. She thought her promotion from Initiate to full-fledged officer couldn't come quickly enough, and now it felt like it had come too fast—under the worst circumstances. She instinctively knew the stares, whispers and unspoken accusations were going to get worse. Part of her couldn't help but feel they were right to suspect her. 

Sick of wallowing in her own depressive thoughts, Kiehra steeled her nerves and left the locker room, so caught up in her own thoughts that she barely realized when she had collided with a figure that had stepped into her path. She took a deep breath, mumbled a quick apology and looked up to see who she had bumped into, coming face to face with Lieutenant Vela. 

His eyes were cold as they'd ever been, and they met her gaze with the same disdain he'd always held for her. However, there was something else, a hint of hatred…and maybe fear. 

"You," he grumbled, stepping closer to her, just managing to stop his face from twisting into a scowl. "Do you truly think you've earned that position as Sentry Officer? Do you? Pathetic. I know you…I know what you are. You used Rhys's demise as your ladder to escape your status as an Initiate. I'm sure of it."

Kiehra tensed, taken aback by his certainty. "I know not what you're hinting at, but I had nothing to do with what happened to Rhys."

Vela's mask of composure slipped, his lips curling into a fearsome sneer. "Don't…don't play smart with me Ashbluff. Your presence…your very existence within these walls, is a stain on our organization. I swear—you'll be gone very soon." He leaned in closer, eyes twitching with rage as he spoke his departing words. "I'll expose you, for everything. The exams, Rhys, everything. And when I do..heh..I'll ensure you're gone for good. Erased."

Kiehra didn't flinch. Not outwardly anyway. Her eyes met his, and almost like she was empowered by his hatred, she didn't let an ounce of her inner turmoil slip to the surface. They remained like that for a few more seconds, neither willing to back down in the moment. After what felt like the most tense seconds in the history of reality, Vela scoffed and turned away, his cape billowing as he disappeared down the halls. 

Three spoke up, sounding amused. "I see, he seems more scared than the last time you guys met face to face like this."

"Scared? Why would he—"

"Scared of you maybe. Or what happened to Rhys? Maybe something bigger than you. No way to truly know."

That didn't make her feel any better. 

The weight of Rhys's death still dragged her down, an inevitable pressure that made it hard to breathe. Walking to the team assignment board, a new realization dawned on her. 

Her guilt wasn't born only from her inability to save Rhys. She felt guilty because, despite the horror and pain their supervisor was in while corrupted—

Part of her was still concerned with what would happen if the truth came out. The truth about everything. 

Part of her scared of what she might do in such an imbalanced state.

Hell, she was scared of her capabilities even when she was normal. 

So many questions, so many mysteries, all surrounding her ang clinging to her skin at the same time. 

The worst part was that she wasn't sure she wanted to even know the answers. 

She pushed the encounter with Vela to the back of her mind as she navigated the halls of the HQ, her boots clanking against the tiles as she approached the team assignment board. As most of the Initiates had now been promoted to Officers, they were now all officially grouped into their respective squads. That meant everyone now had a new set of allies—or potential enemies and liabilities. Kiera tightened her fist as she approached the board. 

It was a large screen embedded into the wall, flickering and blinking as its contents updated. Names shifted and cycled before arranging into new groupings. Kiehra took a deep breath, taking a moment to find her own name. It took a while, but then she saw it—Unit 12. Her gaze shifted to the other names listed. "Barrel Calista, Pax Bateman…Fabian Rann…" 

She muttered each one out loud, committing the names to memory. She had no idea who the other two were, but a wave of mild relief settled over her when seeing the silver haired man's name. At least she won't be on a team where she doesn't know anyone. She was also slightly comforted by the thought that Fabian didn't seem to care about her reputation…or much of anything for that matter. 

But she didn't have time to linger on her thoughts. Earlier in the day everyone was told they were to meet and acquaint themselves with their new Unit members in their assigned briefing rooms. With a sigh, she turned and went on her way. 

---

The meeting room was uncomfortably quiet when Kiehra had arrived. They were assigned one of the older conference spaces from the earlier days of the Sentry, an old room that was hardly lit by the dying fluorescent lights overhead. The air seemed stale, and everything was covered in a thin layer of dust, signs that the room hadn't been touched in some time. The only pieces of furniture present were a metal table in the center, and four chairs that surrounded it. Against the far wall, standing with his unflappable indifference, was Fabian Rann, who had no doubt arrived far earlier than her. 

His dull silver hair, styled into a pompadour, still had a few loose strands from the day before, casting shadows over his emotionless eyes. In spite of the harrowing events they'd both experienced, Fabian stood composed and unbothered. He leaned against the wall with cool indifference, his arms crossed; though upon closer inspection, Kiehra picked up on a slight tremble in his fingers. 

"Seems that our Smooth Operator over there is feeling restless." Three cooed in her mind. She ignored the spirit, not wanting to risk looking like a maniac in front of the only person in the Sentry who couldn't give enough shits about her to hate or question her existence. 

He tended to his giant feather quill, carefully wiping down the point with a rag. Upon noticing Kiehra, he gave her a slow nod before returning to his work. No words, only acknowledgement. Couldn't say that was unexpected in the least. 

Kiehra, unsure where to stand or sit, just remained in the middle of the room. She briefly considered starting up a conversation with Fabian, but moments later the door creaked, shattering the silence. A towering form entered, the floor groaning and cracking slightly beneath the weight of the new arrival. Barrel Calista was a golem, her 8-foot tall frame reflecting a dazzling light under the dim lighting. Silver plates made up the majority of her form, with thick sinewy bands of what looked like flesh connecting them all together. Despite looking like a robot, the bands of sinew as well as her chest pulsed faintly, as if she was breathing. Kiehra had a hard time discerning if she was organic or mechanical.

Her eyes—giant orbs of black glass—slowly scanned the room before settling on Kiehra, recognition flickering in her expression. When she spoke up at last, the room seemed to vibrate, her voice a deep, resonating boom that gave each word immense weight. 

"You. I remember. Your efforts during exams…yes…impressive…" she rumbled, her speech sloppy but not harsh as she carefully selected her words. "Set records…you, broke all. Why break them...truly shameful, for us, no?"

Kiehra felt herself blush in embarrassment, rubbing the back of her neck and staring at her feet. "No, I—that wasn't," she stuttered.

Barrel stared at her in silence. Then, her glowing eyes blinked once, albeit incredibly slowly. "Joke. Humor. Laugh. I am…trying."

A second passed before Kiehra let out a small, nervous laugh. The setup and execution were clumsy, but came from a genuine place. Barrel, despite her incredibly threatening presence, seemed amicable. When she offered Kiehra a stiff but amicable nod and a crooked smile, Kiehra found herself relaxing ever-so-slightly. 

The door opened again, and something slid into the room—quite literally. 

Pax Bateman looked to be nothing more than a rippling mass of color, though upon closer inspection, Kiehra noticed his more humanoid traits. A human-slime hybrid, his entire body shimmered in soft green and blue hues, with a gelatinous body that flowed smoothly and jiggled with every movement. Instead of a face, there were only two beady eyes that drifted slowly as he moved. Interestingly enough, he seemed to have created for himself a head of jelly dripping hair, obviously meant to mimic an afro. He was smaller than the others, slightly shorter than Kiehra, and his fluid nature made him difficult to keep track of. 

He stared at them with what appeared to be an expectant and positive expression as a wet, bubbling sound escaped him—a sound that was most likely speech. A small device embedded in the collar of his jacket hummed to life, translating in a pleasant, preppy tone: "You both were amazing! Wow, imagine being placed with the top scorers! It is a pleasure meeting you all!"

Despite the strangeness of it all, Kiehra couldn't help but offer a smile. His easy going nature was quite a contrast to Barrel's awkwardness and Fabian's aloof nature, making him seem the most approachable of the bunch. 

Introductions were brief, but enough to lay a foundation, albeit, a shaky one. Each of them all had their own unique qualities, and trust was definitely going to take some time to build—especially with Rhys's death hanging over them. 

Three's whispered in her mind, a teasing edge to his words. "Things could be worse. I mean, what would you have done if you were grouped with Riona?"

Kiehra almost retched. At least she had that to be grateful for.

---

Elsewhere, shrouded in the shadows of a pristine, exquisitely arranged office, Lieutenant Vela stood stiffly, his entire body as tense as a coiled spring. Before him stood a pulsating and twitching entity, a being that obviously wasn't meant to roam free. 

The spirit was a writhing mass of spectral energy and shoddy machinery, its form barely maintaining a single shape. Wires, tendrils and gears of all sizes permeated its dripping, ink-like body, which glowed with unholy, abhorrent power. The creature's face hung upside down, sporting an unnaturally wild grin as hollow eyes bore a hole through Vela's soul. 

"Things are progressing rather nicely," it spoke, its layered voice resonating within the small space. "Your impatience is most ungentlemanly, dear Vela. Do you truly hate the girl this much?"

Vela grit his teeth. "Rhys and the missing file were supposed to be a ploy to get the girl to expose herself, to show us all what she's hiding, but you turned her into a casualty. Kiehra is a threat. No normal person gets that strong without some form of illegal intervention. You were supposed to help me get rid of her Kubora!"

Kubora laughed, though there was nothing comedic about it. It was a hollow sound, fetid and dripping with a grotesque evil. "Do not remind me of my own words, you impudent mortal. Or do you forget who holds whose leash here? What would Captain Martina and the rest of them say if they realized a lieutenant was conspiring with an ancient such as myself?"

Vela's knuckles whitened under the force of his clenched fist, but he held his tongue. 

From the shadows, something moved. Inky tendrils dragged something forward—a limp and motionless body. Stained with black, with skin that seemed to be slowly decaying, Flak lay on the bare ground like a discarded husk. Despite his unconscious state, his hands remained tightly curled around his Emitter which was held close to his chest. 

Kubora's tone turned mischievous…almost playful. "This one, a Retromind, he has seen much…heard much. Within that Emitter lies the answers you seek. Footage with decisive evidence of Kiehra being far more than she claims to be…enough to rid you of her, and deliver right into my clutches."

Vela's gaze flicked to the device, a predatory glint flashing in his eyes. "Then hand him over."

Kubora chuckled, her entire body shaking with amusement. "Not so fast now Vela. God, you're so hasty. I have one last request…to ensure that this Kiehra girl you speak of is really as powerful as you claim she is."

Vela froze up as the spirit's inky tendrils tightened around Flak, a lump of unease forming in his throat. 

"What do you need me to do…Kubora?"

The spirit's grin widened, her eyes shrinking with delight. 

"Just one more test."