Rock Bottom

[Raffe]

[[Continued from In Absentia]]

For weeks he’d kept his life together, constructing an artifice of routine and going through the motions like each one was nothing more than a touchstone to mark the normal passing of time. The twins and Sterling. Sage and Paragon and Kallisti and the girls. Nox’s texts. But the distance crept in, inch by inch, and when he looked down on his life, he recognised nothing in it. By the time of the excruciating Vasiliev ball he was finding it difficult to relate to any of the things he knew he ought to care about, and Kristian’s words set up a haunt in his mind that ran its doubts over everything that remained.

He gave Lily to Sterling for safekeeping. Told Carmen he needed some time away from work; assured her there was no reason to worry. There was no plan, just an emptiness that he could no longer bear to pretend away for the sake of others. He smiled when he left.

His last clear memory was of the Carnival, resplendent with Halloween revelry. Shadows and ghouls, darkness beckoning, a bacchanal promise.

Raffe walked into the Veil’s Embrace. He didn’t remember coming out.

He didn’t know who found him, or how. Frost crunched the ground now, the season succumbing to the skeletal clutch of winter’s icy caress. Weeks more had passed. Life quietened and died around him; Raffe wasn’t in the city anymore, but madness chased memories, and he only knew it because he was later told. Hollows carved his cheeks to diamond peeks and made solitary monuments of each rib. Track marks and bruises decorated his arms and legs; failed attempts at capturing meaning, addictions he’d always denied himself. He had vague recollection of a honey-coated tongue, but the words whispered away on the wind; he didn’t want to be saved. And then, as though no time had passed at all, he remembered the sterile walls of Paragon.

He let himself hibernate through the parade of scientists, eyes often closed even when he wasn’t asleep. White coats that coaxed him to talk, insisted he eat. He never even noticed when the scenery changed once more.

[Michael Vellas]

Michael gazed down at the man from the scientist's observation room, having ordered them to clear out for the time being. A finger absently tapped along his forearm, his arms crossed under his chest, a small frown creasing his brow. He had departed from the Garden as soon as he had received Dr Weston's message and read the brief on his way. Enclosed within the shell of calm that came with the power he showed little signs of the unease that slithered across the surface of his thoughts. 

He knew that he and people like him were not immune to death despite some fool beliefs that had somehow spread across the Dominions. He also placed no stock in stories that their power was a godlike gift. He did not know the truth of the matter, but he could not believe that he was some kind of God of Atharim myth and folly, and this man in front of him with almost lifeless eyes only strengthened that belief. It was another confirmation that these powers were some kind of natural phenomenon. One that could be taken away according to Dr Weston. 

Paragon. Another company that Michael paid little attention to that had been studying the Sickness that came before the blossoming of power. Not only had they cured the Sickness, they had somehow removed the power entirely. The details had been suppressed almost completely and they seemed to cooperate, but it bore keeping an eye on. A problem for another day. 

First, the man. Rafael Janssen. Michael had sent for the newest of the Rods of Dominion. The others were not informed for the moment and he had impressed upon the staff of the Facility to the fullest that the information be kept secret and he trusted Dr Watson to do so. However, he needed someone, and Bastian was his choice. He had forsaken the Atharim and proved himself in Africa. From all accounts he was not a man that was blinded by superstition. It was also a chance to gain his measure. 

"Sir," a timid voice said piped up, and Michael tore his eyes away from the despondent man. "The Dominion has arrived." 

Michael nodded. "Show him in, and remember, speak to no-one of this. It is a delicate matter."

The scientist fled from the room. First Rafael and Bastian, and then on to tell Nikolai Brandon that all of his Power could be taken away.

[Bastian]

He was not surprised when a summons came. Egypt proved the worth of his word and skill, and while he’d never voice it aloud, he eyed the other Dominions in circumspect dismay for what he observed of their activities and temperaments in the Garden. As such, if Vellas needed a man he could trust, Bastian did not doubt his suitability, even over the favoured Karim. There had been no brief, only a measure of secrecy, and while he could not guess on the reasons, he calculated the meaning while he was escorted through the Facility’s sterile halls. He walked like he belonged, though the uniform draping his shoulders was only newly assigned. The pin was neat at his throat. He did not make conversation with the personnel who led the way.

The door was opened for him, and Bastian did not look back after he entered. Within he eyed the smooth glass of an observation station, and the drawn figure of a man oblivious within. There was nothing obviously inhuman, but perhaps he had been called upon for the specialist knowledge earned by the tattoo inked on his forearm.

“Sir,” was all he said, eyes landing on Vellas.

[Michael Vellas]

Michael turned at the new voice. He had met the man only once before and briefly. A brief flicker of a smile came to his lips. Bastian was meticulous and deliberate it seemed and did not bother with pointless questions like why he was here. He had done a fine job in Africa and drew rare praise from Im Seung Jun even if it was slightly grudging.

"Bastian, I am glad we meet again. Thank you for your efforts in Africa. Few would choose to do what you did," he nodded towards the man on the other side of the glass. "I have a task for you, one that I have chosen to entrust to only you. This is to be kept secret for the time being. So far, only myself and a few of the staff here are aware of this man."

"You know the Atharim and their beliefs. Tales of gods. You and I both know that we are far from Gods, no matter if some think they are close to it. Death comes to us just as it does any other man. He," he nodded again to the patient, vacant eyed, "is one who was born with the Power. Now, he no longer has that gift."

He paused a moment, not sure himself the implication or exactly how this came to be only it was some medical process he did not understand. What he did know is that the knowledge was dangerous, and needed to be uncovered. "I do not yet know how, but his ability has been taken from him. As far as our doctors are concerned, he is simply an ordinary man," Michael locked eyes with Bastian, calm but with a gaze that imparted the gravity of this revelation. "I trust you understand the need for secrecy, and the potential implications that this revelation holds."

[Bastian]

Bastian nodded to acknowledge the praise. He was not a man of inflated pride, and would not preen or boast of his deeds, but he did require recognition for his efforts. Africa had served a purpose, being the most efficient way to prove his new loyalties, but it had also been sound tactics to send him. He had experience the other Dominions frankly lacked – including the hotheaded ex-marine, the only man with any military background at all, and a besmirched one at that.

His gaze moved seamlessly to the figure behind the glass when he was indicated, though only for a moment before his focus returned to Vellas. The information was absorbed silently, and if it unsettled him, nothing of it showed in his demeanour. The trust was also accepted – and well placed, so far as Bastian was concerned. He had already risen higher within the Custody than the Atharim had ever allowed him to in their own ranks, and he was pleased to know the circumstances of his place here was not to be shadowed by his past. Because this was information any man still loyal to an Atharim cause would kill for, and Vellas would not have risked telling him if any doubts remained.

“The Brotherhood would be devastated.” The sarcasm was perfectly arid and toneless, and he did not smile. Bastian did not believe their power made them gods, and he thought it a foolish thing to allow such worship to be encouraged in the populace. The information was more than dangerous. Even the possibility, let alone the application. In a world still shifting to new ideas of normality, for now peace required the Ascendancy to be infallible.

“I understand the need. You will not be disappointed in your trust in me,” he said, shifting his stance enough to look properly at the patient. Though the man could not be aware of his observation, he had not moved the entire time they had been standing here. Vacancy haunted his downcast gaze, cheeks hollow, as though they had pulled a vagrant from the Undercity. “There is no lore I am aware of that might aid any investigation. If this were a possibility known to the Atharim, clearly neither of us would be standing here.” It did not seem to be what Vellas had summoned him for, but Bastian offered it generously. His own gaze remained thoughtful as he considered. Little ruffled him. “He is well contained here. So what is your task for me?”

[Michael Vellas]

"Hmmm," Michael mused. "So the Atharim have no knowledge like this. It is as I thought, but it is good to have it confirmed."

Michael did not speak for a long moment. Emotions were...mixed. The possibility was both a comfort and disturbing. Another problem to add to the growing list that was piled upon his back. However, now was a time for action. "Ah, the Brotherood," and if Bastian was dry, the scorn in Michael's tone was quite clear. "indeed, fanatics are unpredictable. We shall deal with them if the need arises."

Michael nodded to the vacant-eyed man. "Yes, he is secure but wasted here. The doctors can do no more. I task you with studying this condition with the Power. We shall be taking him back to the Garden. He is suicidal for some reason. Make sure he lives and tell no-one of his condition, not even the other Rods. You act with my authority, it will not be questioned."

He uncrossed his arms and ran a hand through his hair. "Dr Weston will assist with the transportation and a room has been prepared for him. I shall return soon. First, I need to remind Nikolai he is not a God."

[Bastian]

“It is not a cohesive organisation, and neither was I privy to its every secret,” he cautioned. “I cannot offer definitive confirmation, however I cannot think it feasible they are aware of this… possibility.” Neutralising a myth was far more potent a weapon than murder, and the Regus had said nothing of it at the Convocation. What weapons the Archangels were given knowledge of, Bastian couldn’t say. But weapons of any worth must be tested, and something so significant as removing the gift from a man would not have remained secret for long. This news would put fear into Nikolai Brandon’s heart. They would have wanted that.

“Hn,” was all he said of the rest. A muscle flexed in his jaw. The man certainly looked like he had been dredged from the bottom of the hells, and Bastian was less enamoured of the idea of babysitting than the importance of the knowledge he had been entrusted with. Neither did he complain. Already he drew up a list of necessary questions, but they were not ones he would delay Vellas by asking now. Bastian was perfectly capable of discovering the answers himself, and he prided himself on his conscientious efficiency. Weston or one of her team would have a dossier to begin with, he imagined. “It will be as you say.”

The hand Vellas raked through his hair was an unusual gesture, and one Bastian side-eyed. He did not appreciate the signs of pressure, even if it was perfectly warranted given the circumstance. Certainly, being the one to deliver the discovery to Nikolai Brandon was unenviable. “Careful, Commander. You almost sound cheerful at the prospect,” he said dryly.

“Be assured Karim has the helm. Should things go poorly.”

[Michael Vellas]

"Of course," Michael replied to Bastian's caution about the Atharim's knowledge turning his full attention to the new Rod of Dominion. "I do not expect you to know everything of your former compatriots. However, the reasoning is sound that they did not know."

He tried to study Bastian's reaction yet learned almost nothing. He asked no questions nor voiced any complaint or much of anything, merely acknowledging the order. He doubted Bastian was quieted by any fear or nervousness, the man was almost a stone of confidence. Michael appreciated the brevity, but did not wish his orders to be misinterpreted. "Probe him with the Power. See what you can discover about the nature of this...affliction. How it interacts with the Power, if it can be resisted. If it can be healed. Assume that if the Atharim do not know of this, they will find out eventually. When our enemies do, I want to be ready to defend against it."

At the last, a smile cracked his otherwise emotionless face and for a moment a maelstrom of fiery emotion lit his gaze as if he would welcome the challenge of Nikolai's rage and revealed his own passion to protect the people under his charge, against any foe. "It will serve us all that he is reminded of his own mortality. He holds the world in his palm, and I shall not see him fall because the truth is a harsh one. Your support of Karim is well placed, but it shall take more than this for Nikolai to rid himself of me."

[Bastian]

“I am glad to know it. I would not want you to think you had been misled if I was wrong.” That was unlikely, of course, but Bastian liked to be straight down the line, and neither did he wish to foster any incidental complacency.

“He will not die before we have answers, I assure you,” he said of the man behind the screen. Preferably he would not die at all, but Bastian understood the remit here. If neither Vellas nor the Facility’s scientists knew what had caused the issue, it could not be replicated, and nor could it be remedied. If such a fix were even possible. Where science currently failed, the Power would explore instead -- for answers not cure. Bastian was not without his own drive for knowledge. Nor did he believe he would have been selected for a purely mundane task. It was only the complication of suicidal that dampened his response.

Ultimately he considered this secret a revelation that would by nature leak eventually, or just as likely be discovered by someone else, but he paused to consider if there was another layer to Vellas’s statement then. He would not question it, of course, but he liked to be aware of the undercurrents. Bastian intended to earn his place at the top. “We have some time to be ahead of the curve,” he said instead. “I will of course keep you apprised of my progress.”

He turned to look at Michael properly, absorbing the molten reaction. Bastian was often accused of being humourless. Which wasn't true. However he was usually so dry and monotone with his sarcasm that it was often misconstrued as something else. No smile lifted his lips even now, but there was perhaps amusement in his eyes then. It had been meant entirely in jest – both parts. New as he was to the pin at his throat, he realised there was a complicated relationship between the Dominion’s Commander and the Ascendancy. Vellas bowed now, but their strength was almost matched.

“It serves all of us to be reminded of our own mortality, Commander,” he added. “But I am pleased to see you spirited. By your leave?”