A Gods Eater 2 fan fiction by Lushard.
It has begun, the end of the world.
The red rain, a pandemic that has cost lots of lives, is pouring down upon our barren earth again.
The Black Plague that strikes when one comes in contact with the rain makes sure that there are no survivors for those unlucky souls. Daily news report of loss of lives, the numbers rolling higher and higher in each passing day. Fenrir scientists are losing sleep as they try to find a cure to this hideous disease. Billions are spent, research is relentlessly conducted, but still no satisfying results come. Humanity is still doomed and on the verge of extinction once again.
Many say that the Red Rain is a curse, a divine punishment for the errors humans have made. The others state that it is something that is bound to happen, that it is a part of an ancient prophecy about the apocalypse that has been written in the Holy Scripture thousands of years ago. Logical people believe that it is a natural happenstance, nothing but a natural occurrence. All of those theories, though, don't matter. As long as humanity staggers in their quest to survive, theories will just be theories. They can never liberate a dying world such as ours.
I wonder if we could ever be free from pain and suffering. I wonder… if a new world does exist somewhere, waiting to be discovered by men.
A wishful thinking. But at least it's not a dead hope.
I want to believe in that hope.
GODS EATER 2: DAYS OF REDEMPTION
Arc I
- The Power Within -
Chapter 01
13 – 10 – 2075 / 07 : 29 : 07
Morning started out with a gloomy sky. Dark clouds are hanging on the vast blue, obscuring the sun from view. It wouldn't be long before a heavy rain started falling.
"At least they're not red," said a voice still heavy with sleep.
Hiro Kamui nodded absently as he played with his spoon. A half-empty bowl of warm soup was before him, but he had no appetite to finish the dish. Seated beside him was a sleepy young blond who had been yawning through his breakfast.
"You're not gonna finish that up?" asked the blond.
Hiro weighed his chances. But, "No." He shoved the bowl to Romeo, who looked a bit more awake now that he was given an extra portion of meal.
"Sweet."
Hiro smiled wryly at that. Looking at the slim guy, one would never guess that someone of his stature and weight was capable of eating a family-size portion of serving. It was not the first time that Hiro wondered where all those calories went. Romeo, as far as he knew, could empty plates of food in a matter of minutes and still order some desserts afterward. It was no wonder that the Italian had made himself an enemy of the cook boys and kitchen ladies, the animosity level on par with that they directed towards another cheerful soul whose interest was only in stealing ingredients and rations for 'food experimentation,' as she put it. Supplies were always short when the two were around, they said. Now if only wolfing down a huge amount of food could do something to his height…
"Don't give me that look," Romeo said lowly, throwing Hiro a half-hearted glare. His spoon though, didn't stop from moving.
Hiro raised his eyebrows, maintaining a somewhat blank, taunting expression. "What look?"
"The 'how come a guy this small could eat that much and stay small' look? He's not the only one ever wondering."
Both guys turned their heads toward the new voice. A tall figure was striding casually to the cafeteria table, his lean form towering over Romeo once he was near enough to stand close to him. On his scarred face was a playful smirk. "All your efforts stretching in your room everyday doesn't pay, huh?"
Romeo muttered something that could be equivalent to a grumpy 'Shut up' or 'Curse you' before he choked on his food and loudly coughed a couple of times. Gilbert's lazy smirk widened a bit before it completely disappeared. "Got news," he said, looking at Hiro. "The higher-ups have decided to let that guy run free."
Hiro narrowed his eyes. He had speculated that it was not going to be long before such decision was made. But he hadn't expected for it to be this soon. Fenrir sure never dawdled in making important judgments. "He's going to join us on missions then?"
Gilbert leaned on the table, folded his arms across his chest. "Looks like it. Officially now. We'll be asked to keep an eye, I bet, since they decide not to collar him."
"Huh. What're they thinking, I wonder," Romeo chimed in after he emptied a glass of water and wiped his mouth. "Letting someone like that wielding a God Arc under their noses…"
"All I can say is that Fenrir doesn't have much choice," Gilbert said. There was a hint of sarcasm in his words, laced with distaste. "They won't likely to let a valuable material of research and soldier rot in some underground cell. The closer they can get a look on him, the better. And the more useful they could make him be…"
He didn't have to bring that sentence into completion. They had all beginning to get a glimpse of what Fenrir's nature was truly like beyond the mask of chivalry, and neither of them were going to debate over it for the time being. Though not given much information about it, the BLOOD Force had been closely involved with the Black Cloaks case that had started out months ago, both in combat and in judicial examination. They had been asked to intercept their attacks twice, and memories of the battles hadn't left a good impression. Even now, Hiro could still recall how impassive their faces had been when they'd injured the people at the Far East Branch, making his heart drum faster in anger and agitation.
The scene of destruction they'd left in their wake after their bold infiltration some time ago was still fresh in his mind. Slaughter. That word would fit better. Memories of bodies lying on the ground, screams and alarms blaring and desperate soldiers were crowding in. They did little to ease the knot that had been ever present in his stomach since dawn. Hiro sipped his morning tea to wash down the bitterness that filled his mouth.
"Well," Gilbert said, standing up straight, "it's not like we have a voice in the matter."
Romeo pouted. "Must we always do the hard work?"
"You're not seriously expecting me to answer that," Gilbert brushed Romeo's whining off with a flat stare. "The Captain told me to get you guys, so let's get going."
Reluctantly the two stood up from their table and followed Gilbert to the Friar Lobby. They took the elevator and made their way through the hallways. The people, mostly scientists and mechanics who resided in Friar, whom they'd greeted along the way seemed more rigid than usual, Hiro noted. It looked like the rumor had spread fast. Worse, that it was true.
Romeo was the only one who kept talking throughout the walk, mentioning how the people seated above were either dumb skulls or greedy freaks, and how they, the BLOOD Unit, was the one who got to bear the burden of close supervision and risk of another siege borne from betrayal. When the mechanical doors swished open, the only words that came from Romeo was a hissing, "This'd better be a joke." Hiro quickly got what he meant.
Standing in the middle of the lower area of the lobby was four people. Three of them were familiar faces. It was the one who had his back on them that drew most of their attention to the point of acute awareness that any combatants would subconsciously feel upon entering combat. The man was clothed in standard BLOOD Uniform, the golden Fenrir insignia on his back jutting out like a sore thumb, a plain statement that the decision made by the high-ranking officers was absolute and not to be questioned.
The three stopped a good distance away from the stranger, looking at their comrades with watchful eyes, as if waiting for a beast trainer to say that it was okay to get closer and pet the animal. Julius was the first to react.
With an eerie calm only an austere commander could muster, the Captain said, "Meet a new member of our Unit. Maxwell."
The man with dirty blond hair turned. Hiro's shoulders tensed. He was only some inches shorter than Gilbert, could not be older than the Scottish by looks. But there was something in his presence that made Hiro feel that he was trying to blend into the shadows and be unnoticed, something that might have resulted from times lurking in dark places. And there were the eyes… The eyes were the same as he remembered them: dark blood red, devoid of emotion, so unreadable under the play of light that one could mistake them for dark brown instead of red.
Julius broke the staring contest between the person introduced as Max and the three guys by announcing their names. Hiro could see that Nana and Ciel had both been silent throughout the ordeal—Ciel being Ciel, and Nana not being her usual self.
"I'm sure you all know about the circumstances," said Julius patiently. His hand was on his hip, as usual, but there was that guarded aura surrounding him that they all shared. Apparently he had objected to the matter as well. "He will be assigned to our Unit starting from today. The weeks he's spent in the labs indicate that he is compatible with a certain bias factor developed by the Far East Branch and is more than capable to wield a New-Type God Arc, though the special force we know as the Power of Blood is yet to be seen." He looked at Maxwell. "You will be joining us annihilation missions until an unspecified date. The rest is just as I've told you. Is that clear?"
He nodded.
Annihilation missions. Only on annihilation missions. It meant that he was not yet trusted to go on patrol missions and must act within a bound of rules and restrictions. Adequate, but still the feeling of unrest refused to leave Hiro.
Ciel was the one who spoke this time. "I will be assigned to escort you along with the Co-Captain for the time being." She was directing the words to Maxwell, but her eyes quickly darted to Hiro, searching for backup. "Missions you will take will also be supervised by us."
Again, Maxwell nodded, slow and curt. His eyes were assessing the people around him with vigilance that was well-masked. "Co-Captain," he drawled, dark red orbs settling on Hiro's figure. His voice was deep and throaty, one that could belong only to those who didn't use it often. "Is it you?"
"I believe we've met." Hiro offered a half smile, an icy one, and found no more words to say without sounding rude. They had. Hiro had been the person who had supported the guy when he was badly wounded. A silent order from Julius which he hadn't dared to refuse.
Maxwell looked calm and simply acknowledged Hiro's words with a vague movement of his head. In retrospect, everyone around him except for Julius was beginning to tense up further, as if expecting a fight. The idea could not be more alluring, Hiro thought viciously. Gods, how he would like to voice his concern over the whole idea and his resentment toward the newly added BLOOD member right there.
He disliked the former Black Cloak, despised the eyes that seemed bottomless, and always analyzing. But he knew better than to try… If Julius had done so without success, what could he, a mere Co-Captain do to change the decision Fenrir had made?
Every complaint and question they had regarding the incident had been ignored. Even the chief and vice supervisor had told them to simply accept whatever shallow explanation Fenrir gave out to media as it was, which only fueled most people's curiosity and anger. Gods Eaters were not so differently treated. They had very little room to criticize, or to speak even. Their only concern should always lie in the safety of the fiefs they were entrusted with. Hiro had learned to accept all of these, even with reluctance.
But the same self-control couldn't be expected from everyone.
Before anyone could say a thing, Romeo exploded. "So, now they think we lack in numbers so bad that we need someone who has raised his blade towards us to strengthen our ranks," he said. He forced a crude laughter. "Impressive display of trust! We truly are valued."
Ciel warily eyed the Italian. "Romeo..."
"Ha! This guy killed our comrades!" he shouted with a finger pointed at Maxwell, not bothering to disguise his disgust now. "How can you guys be so irrational? I thought we were simply gonna be asked to supervise, not keeping a murderous hound near our feet anywhere we go!"
Julius cleared his throat and though that did little Romeo's temper, it did well in telling him to back down and cool off. Romeo merely threw a look at the Captain and left. After seeking permission from Julius, Gilbert and Nana went after him.
Julius heaved a sigh. "I'm supposed to be apologizing for my subordinate's behavior..." he said deliberately. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, the pale orbs glinted with warning. "...I'm sure you know your position. Please keep in mind that as long as you wear that armlet," he paused to regard the black armlet on Maxwell's left wrist, "you are to keep your head low and refrain from acting against order."
It was both an order and a threat. Blunt and clear. Working with the young Captain for the past few months had told Hiro that Julius Visconti was never someone to waste words, more so in regarding them lightly.
"I understand."
The affirmative reply of Maxwell's didn't immediately settle the tension in the air. Julius looked at Hiro and Ciel, then once again, repressed a sigh. "Co-Captain. I'll leave the rest to you. Please escort Maxwell to his room and see Fran for mission updates afterwards."
"I will."
"Good." For a second, Julius seemed like he was about to say more about it, but after a thought, decided against it. He went to the upper area without a sparing glance.
Hiro subconsciously stood closer to Ciel after Julius had left. An instinct, perhaps. To protect, and to be protected. To band up in the face of a beast that might bare its fangs and attack them anytime.
It did not pass Maxwell's observations. He said, "I'm not gonna jump at you."
It seemed to be a neutral statement, something to ease them both, a light reminder that they now, were in the very base of a Fenrir-labeled research institute. They were in a place packed with armored cyborgs and guards where even someone with a brain defect would not dare to play around. Nevertheless, Hiro couldn't help but to translate it as a mockery, if not something worse. Gut feeling was telling him to be careful and extra aware around the man. Gut feeling he did trust. "I'd never know," was all the reply he got.
There was a slight tug at the corner of Maxwell's mouth. It vanished too soon before it could be rendered as a smile. He said nothing more.
xx - I - xx
13 – 10 – 2075 / 07 : 57 : 12
"Do you think it's a wise decision, letting that guy run unchained?"
Dr. Rachel Claudius turned her head at her sister, who was walking to her working chamber with two cups of steaming coffee, her scarlet hair swaying behind her in an elegant manner. She set one cup down on the table, near Rachel's hand, and stood beside her wheelchair, eyes fixed on the monitors that showed the inside of Ray Maxwell's room.
The younger sibling smiled as she thanked Leah for the coffee. "You are worried?"
"Just a little bit," Leah said, then smiled. "That was my thought as a Fenrir officer. As a scientist, I'd say that he's a fine specimen to be studied."
Rachel shared the feeling and understood it well. This Maxwell character had completed all the DNA tests and proved to be able to receive a bias factor that was a blend of the usual bias factor used to strengthen the New-Type Gods Eaters and the one developed only for the BLOOD members. Several symptoms he did show and report, but none were severe enough to hinder from his daily activities as a combatant. He showed great prowess as a Gods Eater, boasted enhanced senses that surpassed even those of most New Types'. The only flaws she'd discovered were only his inferior control over cell-mutation and the constant scourge of side effects the bias factor had on his body. A routine medication, close check-ups and a generous supply of sleeping pills would fix those.
"I personally think he won't try anything harmful while confined in this place," Rachel calmly added. Said subject of conversation was now in the middle of familiarizing with his new room: opening cupboards, checking out equipments, looking out for any suspicious devices that Rachel had made hidden. The cameras installed in his room would alert them of any suspicious behaviors.
"What makes you be so sure of that?"
"His past record as a Gods Eater. Also his decisions after he rebelled against his own cause."
What appeared to be a sympathetic smile darkened and softened Leah's feature at the same time. "I've checked NORN for his history. Many cover-ups, another proof that there aremany things that have been going on in that branch without our knowledge." A reference to the late Director of the branch, Rachel knew. "But that Sakaki Old Man kindly gave me access to some restricted data. Dug up for information here and there." Leah must have also read about his actions in the past and relationships with his former comrades-in-arms.
"It is very like you to get sentimental over people's life stories," Rachel pointed with a giggle.
"Don't tease me. I'm not an old lady yet." She shared her amusement still.
"You are not, Sister. It was a compliment. But of course, we will exercise caution. He will be closely supervised by Julius and Hiro Kamui. I'll double check to make sure that all the cams are functioning well." And if the cameras in his room weren't enough, all the terminals in FRIAR were logged in to the mother computer that was in her room, meaning that no one could ever access a terminal without notice. "All the guards have also been told to stay alert as well."
Leah stayed silent as she listened. She brought her fingers to her chin, a giveaway to her unease. "Let's hope that your hunch about him is right... I've seen the footage of those people's assault and the damage they'd caused to the Far East Branch. I don't want the same thing to happen to our institute."
"I assure you not to worry." Rachel pushed a button and the main monitor showed an image full of diagrams, numbers and scattered dots. "He shouldn't be our concern right now, don't you think, Sister?"
"Ah. The Red Rain," Leah sighed. She studied what was shown in the screen, paying close attention to the escalating number of victims. "Its frequency is getting higher and higher."
"Indeed. I am currently trying to learn as much as I can about it, but I haven't found any relevant findings. All I can do now is maximizing my effort in upgrading the cyborgs to reduce the casualties among the Gods Eaters."
Leah placed her cup on the table and folded her arms. "It sure is preferable to have them do the combat when it rains. But the problem we have with the threat of mutation has reached the old ones' ears."
"I'm aware of that. I am working on that too." Truth was, God Arc Soldiers were not fully machines. They were hybrids, a grand result of her years of research of human genetics and Aragami transmutation and machinery. The part of them that stayed half-Aragami was not immune to sudden change in cell structure. Red Rain might have no effect on Aragami, but it was the other half of those beings that was the issue.
"I'm hoping to hear good news soon," said Leah as she turned to leave. "In the meantime, I'll handle all the paperwork and issues with the Far East Branch regarding our new guest and hunting protocol."
She bowed her head lightly. "Please do."
The door opened, and Leah walked out of the room, her words trailing behind her. "Don't work too hard now."
Rachel stared at the door where her sister had disappeared behind. "Too hard…" she murmured. The faint smile that was always on her lips stretched for a tiny bit. Such a peculiar term.
There was never a thing that was 'too hard' for her.
xx - I - xx
13 – 10 – 2075 / 07 : 57 : 41
How many days had passed since she'd been thrown into this dungeon? How many weeks?
Such was a perfect example of a futile question.
Karen knew that asking herself a repetitive unanswerable question could make her mad. Being kept in an underground lab had taught her that. Despite knowing that, she could not help but to ponder.
The only compass of time she was presented with was her daily meals. She would be fed three times a day, and occasionally be bound and walked to a small lab not far from her prison cell to have her blood drawn and liquids she suspected were various samples of bias factor injected to her system. There would be several guards and Gods Eaters standing about when it happened. She hadn't reacted as they had expected; she hadn't fought back or tried to escape. She knew that her attempts to break free from her captivity were going to be fruitless anyway. She was without any weapons, weak from continuous sedation through her meals, and without purpose. What challenge could she pose in such a weakened state? She even doubted she could deliver a proper punch to an unmoving dummy, let alone picking up a weapon and aiming it accurately to a moving soldier.
Karen lolled her head back, leaning against the cold, hard wall. If there was something she was accustomed to, it was being told by fate to stay still and wait. She'd spent her days waiting in that god-forsaken lab to be called out for another round of battle between test subjects. She'd spent more time waiting in her pod waiting for another mission to be given. Now…? Without any promise for a trial or execution, she wasn't sure what she was waiting for.
Perhaps another round of blood sample test. Perhaps another meal boozed with sedatives. Or perhaps...nothing. Keeping your hopes alive within you in a place dark enough to silent even rats and bats was the first indication that you were going mad. She was not. She would not let herself be humiliated like that, even if that was the only battle she was presented with. Floating in the state of emptiness was, at the very least, more honorable rather than surrendering your mind to illusions.
Dwindling footsteps resounded in the empty hallway, halting her thoughts. Karen didn't move. Another poisoned meal to keep her alive was arriving.
The footsteps stopped right before her cell. A clank of metal tray meeting the stone floor. "Your breakfast," said a man's voice.
Karen didn't try to move nor speak. Her head was still heavy with sleep; her body was still numb from last night's fill. No one had ever waited for her response. They would usually just deliver the tray of food and water and be off, never wanting to bother in the dark, murky place.
This one particular person didn't immediately leave. It was then she opened her eyes.
A figure of a man dressed in Fenrir guardsman uniform was crouching before her, a standard cap covering half of his face. In the darkness, she could not see him clearly.
"Check your meal, Miss," he said in a moderately cheery tone. No one in his sane mind had ever been gleeful when delivering meals to a prisoner.
That made Karen blink. She was trying to squint to see better; she cleared her head with a few shakes. She moved slowly to sit. Bad choice. The movement made her insides do a somersault. Her muscles were strained from lack of use; the process of setting her feet on the floor was painfully slow.
A chortle from the man. "Take your time there. Just want to make sure you're healthy, not torturing you," he said, again in that same light tone. "The omelette looks tasty today, perhaps the kitchen people are in a good mood. So should you." When Karen didn't respond, he let out a chortle. In a low, conspiratory voice, the man added, "He doesn't employ me to see you rot away."
'He?'
She tried to squeak some response, but before she could the man stood up and left, leaving her once again in a silence broken only by the low humming of machines and generators. Could she be...hallucinating? Forcing her body to move, she crawled to the door, hands searching around the floor. Bony fingers met cool metal and a warm plate. She wasn't imagining things then. Karen skimmed over it, felt the soft surface of what the man promised to be an omelette, and brought the plate closer to her face. The smell of the dish was fragrant, but her dull senses could not relish in it.
Omelette… There was something about the way the guard's way of mentioning it that seemed off.
With a vision that was still blurry, all she could do was to use her fingers to trace the food, to look for anything that was amiss. She found it right away.
Braille.
Carved maybe with a small, sharp object, was Braille; small palpable dots on the smooth surface of the omelette. Her heart started to leap at the discovery. Someone was sending her a message!
Carefully, she examined the omelette again, trying to figure out what was written on it by connecting the dots altogether. Her attempts met a dead end for the first few times. But after she groped for a canteen of water and used the content to splash her face, her focus sharpened and she finally got the characters.
There was only one word on it. It read:
'Prepare.'
