The sound of his steel-toed boots clacking against pristine white floors echoed around him. For a moment, it seemed like he was the only one traversing this corridor, despite others going to and fro. Perhaps it was his nerves being lit from the knowledge of his destination. Of who he was going to see.
Shaking his head of such foolish fears, the man continued forward until he came to a stop in front of large, obsidian doors. Gold engravings weaved intricate, square patterns along the edges while a large, sky-blue pattern resembling a dagger glowed at its center.
Clearing his throat, the man stated his presence. “Commander Feory, reporting in.”
At his words, the door swung inwards revealing an equally white room. Unlike the marble white floors of the hallway he'd just left, this room had Nero Portoro marble floors, beautiful golden designs turning the slabs of rock into intricate masterpieces.
As he walked forward, he passed lines of shelved books perfectly tucked into their respective shelves. Near the back of that same room was a beautiful, cherry wood desk polished and without a single spec of dust falling upon its surface. At the desk was the woman he'd come to see, her dark complexion stunning against the soft blue glow of the hologram she was examining.
Usually, her hair was a mess of curls that bounced with every step she took. But, now, it was tied neatly back into a tight bun.
“Commander Feory,” she greeted, not looking up from her screen.
Feory straightened up, holding both hands behind his back. “Yes, ma'am. Reporting in on my assignment.”
The woman nodded. “Of course. At ease, Commander. Please, have a seat. I'll be with you momentarily.”
Feory said nothing as he sat down in one of two leather seats, resting his hands on his lap as he concentrated on keeping his feet still from the fidgeting he usually fought with. The woman before him was a force to be reckoned with and not many could withstand her presence without feeling her powerful aura.
Finally, she turned her dark gaze upon him, her near-black freckles clear under the white light of the office. “Sorry for the wait, Commander. Please, begin your report.” She gestured, compelling him to answer as she readied a tablet with a microphone to record every word.
“Yes, ma'am,” Feory answered, pulling a small device from his pocket. Initiating it's start up with the press of a button, he began reading from the orange hologram that appeared. “Number three-seventy-eight appears to have already triggered his Fall. However, there are signs that indicate that he's still in control, though how much is still to be determined.
“After observing for the last week, we've noticed a breach of Breathless unification.”
“How so?” the woman interrupted.
Feory scratched his head. “It seems a number of them showed up after the bombing to help number three-seventy-eight rebuild without the authorization of the Wings.”
“And the library? Does it still stand?”
Feory lowered his hand. “The building doesn't. It was leveled by the remaining insurgents planted in the domed bomb squad. However, my team and I witnessed an alarming amount of records being pulled from the leveled area. We believe the Wings have hidden specific documents beneath the building.”
The woman's eyes narrowed dangerously. She was not happy about that.
Feory cleared his throat.
“Continue,” the woman ordered, though her voice now had a foreboding chill to it.
Goosebumps crept up Feory's arms as he obliged. “The Breathless appear to be divided and the Wings have put out warrants for the arrests of those helping number three-seventy-eight. According to our insurgents, there is one particular man of interest who's bounty is quite a bit higher than the rest.”
This seemed to peak her interest. “Do you have a name?”
“Ah, yes. Just give me one moment.” Feory quickly dragged up the file, the image of a young man with an almond complexion and captivating reddish-brown eyes popping up. “Isaiah Velenquez.”
“Hmm,” the woman hummed, reaching towards a fragile pink cup with golden edge. “I've been hearing a lot of this Isaiah character. Freeman's group was killed in a run-in with that Breathless's platoon. Apparently, he's a loose cannon in his own community as well.”
“Our records indicate that, at one point, he was being groomed for an Elite.”
The woman's eyes focused on Feory. “What records?”
Feory swallowed hard. “In the archives,” he answered, trying desperately to keep his tone level. “It was back during Operation Pruning.”
The woman's gaze softened. “Alright, that would have been during my mother's command. That makes far more sense.” She took a sip of her drink. “So, this Isaiah was a subject to be pruned, then?”
With her countenance far more relaxed, Feory felt his own tension dissipate. “Yes. He was one of about seventy that Miss Williams deemed dangerous to our mission.”
“I'm assuming his pruning was a failure then?”
“Most of them were. Miss Williams closed the operation after only three were taken out of the equation. She believed we wasted too much time and resources on a doomed project.”
The woman nodded, setting down her cup. “Continue your report, Commander.”
Feory nodded, closing Velenquez's file and scrolling through his report. “Agent Horiko is still unaccounted for. Agent Maximus is being held prisoner by number three-seventy-eight.” Feory stared at the next paragraph, not wanting to continue. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he read, “There are three Domers helping rebuild Arkasia.”
“Do we have names?” the woman asked.
“Angie Moore, Wren Olmeda, and...” Feory paused, gathering himself before finishing, “Vert Robertson.”
Somehow, the woman before him seemed to straighten up even more than she'd been before. Her dark complexion seemed to pale while her eyes were wide with disbelief. It lasted a mere moment before she recomposed herself, letting out a deep sigh.
“Continue your report,” she ordered, though her tone wavered. It was clear she was still shaken even if she attempted to be composed.
“There seem to be another group of Breathless missing from Arkasia, though our insurgents have yet to find out who they are. Officer Lloyd's group believes them to be in hiding with Velenquez, though their location is still unknown. End of report.”
The woman slowly nodded her head. “It seems our strategy in killing two birds with one stone was a failure,” she murmured, though it seemed more like she was talking aloud instead of to Feory. He held his tongue.
Turning to her holographic monitor, the woman brought up a new screen before reaching over and turning off the tablet, the information safely tucked away on its hard drive.
“Be sure to submit your report to me by the end of the day. Reposition Officer Lloyd and his team to Arkasia to keep tabs on number three-seventy-eight and the stray Breathless.” Turning her gaze back onto Feory, she continued, “As for you and your team, I want a full reopening of Operation Pruning.”
Feory looked at her with confusion. “But your mother believed—”
“My mother died two years ago. I'm in charge now and I'm ordering a reopening of an operation that you will carry out. Is that understood, Commander?”
Feory stood to his feet and saluted the woman before him out of sheer panic. How she managed to seem so intimidating without even raising her voice was terrifying.
“Yes, ma'am!” he stated louder than he'd meant to.
She didn't seem to care as her gaze shifted back to her screen. “Good,” she said with a short huff. “Make sure to send me the archives related to that operation and anything else that may help in the efforts to erase any additional obstacles that stand in the way of our goals.”
The woman crossed her hands beneath her chin, slightly leaning over her desk while dangerous, slitted eyes focused on Feory with an intensity that made him shift his weight uncomfortably.
“For now, though, I want you to find Isaiah Velenquez and eliminate him and any other followers with extreme prejudice. This man will take priority over any other that I send you to prune so don't expect to raise your rank or standing without bringing his head to this facility, is that clear?”
Feory bowed his head, a spike of adrenaline coursing through him as he was given his next assignment. “Yes, ma'am,” he replied.
She turned her attention back to her screen. “Dismissed.”
Feory turned on his heel and left the room, closing the door behind him with a smile. It had been a very long time since his objective had been one that sent him on a hunt. For so long, it'd been observation and reports. But, now...now was his turn to return to the fight. To prove his necessity to his organization. To show his prowess by pruning the asshole that had caused so much grief to their mission. And he'd do whatever it took to do it.
Comments (1)
See all