I rarely ever betray a person, unless it's serious enough for me to have no choice but to oppose openly, but me back then was different. I thought that any sign of swaying out of the goal strictly means desertion. Regardless of the version of me, what the Foreign Legion's true motivations was enough to justify a sane bastard who works for those crazy sons of bitches to consider deserting or revolting.

-Statinslav Ivanov

31.5 Years Ago

A Foreign Legion Interrogation Room

"LOCATION OF THE GOD PROGRAM!" Statinslav demanded, spitting at his interrogatee.

"Reiterate, I'll never expose where it is..." growled the interrogatee, his worn face retorted, teeth in full view, staring at Statinslav.

"Your decision damns you. GUARDS!" Statinslav said to the interrogatee, raising his tone at the guards.

At his order, the doors banged open, two individuals wearing full body armor and helmets storm in, two more with weapons at the ready. The original two pincers the table, curling one of their arms on each side of their prisoner. Rising the person in question from his seat, escorting him out of the room.

Foreign Legion Base

R&D Hallway

Front guarded and flanked from behind from armed guard, the interrogatee didn't resist. Statinslav took the time for the man's escort to take him for the escalation of their interrogation. Passing into a section, scientists conducting experiments, even omnics doing work without division by omnic and human, as usual for a pre-Omnic Crisis world.

Two scientists rush towards the approaching person, "Major Ivanov!"

"Rush it," Statinslav replied.

"Do we have the greenlight to go forward with out kinetic weapon prototype?" they asked.

"Ask R&D about that," Statinslav rejected, twising his head away from the scientists as he'd exit the reaserch wing and into the engineering ward.

Foreign Legion Base

Engineering Ward

Never not busy, execept in a power shortage. The bases' engineering ward was always operational, sparks flying, machines clanking it's cogs and functions. Grasping and cutting, measuring and welding. Human workers maintaining the machines and massing with each other for plans and designs. Statinslav takes a sweep in a dive like a dolphin's curve over an overarching vertical beam in transport across the other side of the ward's lines. Then a mold for a ball of chromium pops out of the ground. Statinslav jumps, curling into a ball to the maximum amount his body allocates. Avoiding the molten metal waterfall that follows. Arriving at the final point before his destination, the long hall of material storage.

Foreign Legion Base

Storage Hall

He didn't waste the time he had on hand, speedwalking through the numerous crates of various sides and racks filled with explosives and guns. Only stopping if he was directly endangered.

"Ensure inventory is done on time!" He calmly barked towards the managers, pointing his left hand and index finger on them as he passed along.

Saluting him as Statinslav speedwalked along, "Yes Major!"

More people looked to him before continuing to label, bag, sort, or ship people along the room. Meeting up with sliding doors moving towards the right.

Foreign Legion Base

Secondary Canteen

It was small, but nothing but officer rank insignia's seen within. The officer canteen, contained a small kitchen, made to warm food from the main kitchen. He'd walk across the raised platform on the storage hall entrance, hand grazing the paint covered rail.

Approaching the kitchen, obtaining a tray, "Give me what you still have warmed up and ready to serve."

Complying, the chef moves swiftly and quietly, obtaining the food Statinslav asked for. Getting a nod for doing his work, removing himself from the kitchen area and on towards a seat, next to a few other officer ranked.

"Looks like you've been roughed up," said another fellow to Statinslav, temporarily putting his fork down to talk.

"I agree with Lieutenant Colonel Seauro, what happened to bring that hell face, Major Ivanov?" asked another officer.

"Interrogating a prisoner, but now guards are moving him for torture," Statinslav said, calm towards the question, stabbing the slop with his fork, jiggling as jelly and not tangible as food, "Why nutrient gelatin..."

"I suggest you eat up, alleviates the fear." Seauro said to him again.

"Nutrient gelatin is shit, and I agree with Major Ivanov, why do we consume it, perhaps our boss is just wanting us to be malnourished so he had a tungsten grip upon us officers? How are we suppose to command companies, battalions, hell, even brigades if we don't have half full or full stomachs?" asked another person.

"Shut the hell up Lieutenant Ricin!" Seauro snarled, slamming his balled fist upon the hardback table, vibrations near earthquakes shaking trays off.

"General just wants to guide the world into a better place!" Statinslav barked.

"Then why does he give us this kind of crap then, contradictor?" Ricin said in anger on Statinslav, violently pointing at him.

"There has to be sacrifices in order to achieve his dreams, our dreams... Once we have taken the toddles, it will get better," Stainslav explained.

"What does it mean to fight under third world conditions!?" Ricin countered.

Statinslav rises from his seat, "I can't take any of your bullshit any longer, Lieutenant."

Backtracking again, but this time towards the sector one three five segment, characterized through cardslip permission to enter. Swiping his own card, entering through. the automatic hinge opening.

Foreign Legion Base

Section 135 Hallway

He traversed the monochromanty that was the section, "Shows the General's might against the hardworthy."

Rarely has movement occurred, only screams, occasional flashes of blue or white, or even gunshot shockwaves from the blast doors leaking out. Despite all of it, even his blank face, pushed through. Readjusting his flexible collar upwards as he'd rendezvous with one of the guards escorting the man. Being met with the two guards from his interrogation saluting him.

"Individual is ready on your command," announced the leftmost guard, meeting face to face with Statinslav.

"I deal with this alone." Statinslav apathetically said in response.

With his word law to them, the other guard exit the room, before Statinslav himself made his debut inside. Once he did, the guards closed, then bolted, and finally welded the door out.

Foreign Legion Base

A Section 135 Room

He'd walk past the entrance towards a large room, multiple slits and technology, a remote next to him, the man from before in the interrogation room, strapped to a lethal injection chair. As he came closer towards that man, racks of dangerous weapons reveal to Statinslav.

He'd angle his body perpendicular to the man, coughing something out, "I don't like to do stuff like this, so be compliant and no one dies. What is your name?"

"Taarzan," replied the man, causing his edge silvery hair to shift through the wind.

"What's within the god program," Statinslav said again, this time walking towards the left rack.

"To relay the location to Uugu?" Taarzan counterasked.

Statinslav didn't budge, only looking towards a dart gun with an orange barrel, combined with two magazines, wrapping his fleashy fingers around it's frame, before removing it. Swiping one of the magazines and loading it in from behind.

He began progressing back into Taarzan's immediate location, but not holding the dart gun right, holding it's body instead of it's handle, "What is inside the god program in Denmark?"

"Your only going to..." Taarzan hissed.

However, as he was resisting again, Statinslav moves his hand from body to handle and pulled it's orange trigger. Egging out three darts on Taarzan's left arm, screeching in pain each shot fired.

"Tell me it's location," Statinslav said again, looking Taarzan in the eye.

Gritting his teeth and old age catching on, Taarzan turned around and looked at him, "How important... Is that to find a... God... Program."

Statinslav spent no time, shooting at his head with the dart gun. Causing even more pain to the old man.

"What does it do?" he'd ask while returning his first use of harm in the escalation.

"Your only going to worsen the brewing war, involving the omnics..." Taarzan replied resistantly.

Statinslav instead removes with both of his hands, a long tubed weapon. Directing it from his shoulder at him, pulling a pin and wooshed high pressure water.

"Do I have to kill you?" he'd ask to Taarzan, with a little annoyance at his vocal cords.

Taarzan breathed heavily once the tube was out of water and had a chance, "You are only going to..."

"This is to advance humanity in the right way, we will stop once our advancement has been acheived." Statinsalv refuted as he'd walked again towards another tool.

In between his single hand holding it was a knife with teeth, serrated but thinner within it's shine and metal, razors in between. Walking back, but to Taarzan's right.

He'd slash the old man in the icepick position, up in the middle of his upper arm, "AAARGH!" screamed Taarzan.

From the curved wound, beginning to bleed, slowly coming out, but Statinslav then forcefully turns over Taarzan's right forearm over, poking his tip into the flesh, pulling away for blood to spew out, staining the floor and his uniform.

"How powerful is the god program?" Statinslav asked.

"Fine, just don't kill me... It chain links to influential omnics in the region and uses their influence to bring omnics under it's command," Taarzan admitted.

"Where is it?" Statinslav asked in a calm tone, but still bored on body language.

"Thirty one kilometres west of..."

Statinslav pulls the knife away from stabbing or slashing, pointing directly among the monocromatic ceiling and it's showerheads. Flicking his wrist, taking off the razor serrated knife above Taarzan, landing tip first, bending as it stabilized.

He'd sigh, hunching over for a moment, "If you won't spill more than one bean, goodbye. Room T W four one, activate laser, do it slowly."

As it's command was heard, optics lightened up, glaring red as the laser's light turns visible, creeping towards Taarzan's body in the center.

"Guards! Open the door." Statinslav barked, approaching the door.

"One more thing, your General... Uugu... He will soon... Unleash his well known creations around the world in a crisis, of them." Taarzan said to the leaving Statinslav, before knocking the laser's door, screaming in agony and misery. Blood spilling across the room, even outside.

Foreign Legion Base

Officer's Bunk

Guards to the right and his bed to the left, removing his blood stained frontal uniform, revealing his gray undershirt with a Ukrainian flag on his backside with his name under it. With their job accomplished, the guards left Statinslav to himself.

"A crisis of them..." he'd mutter, walking onto his bunk and flopping on it, his left leg dangling while the rest of his body was stable inside.

He'd roll towards his right, breathing slowly while he though more about what Taarzan said.

"How did your escalation go?" asked someone within the same room in a bubbly voice.

"Always with how it gone, the person in question is dead," Statinslav replied, his voice not as strong as before.

"Did you lose all your polychromatic colours?" she'd ask again, walking close for Statinslav to notice.

Statinslav readjusts himself, no longer laying like a knocked out drunk or exhausted person, but with capacity for paying attention, "I'm just tired, Ain. But the person did say something intresting..."

"What is it Statinslav?!" Ain said with excitement, leaning closer to him.

He'd turn to see her semi long brown hair and her happy facial expression, "The person who was killed due to the escalation said about the General unleashing his creations on the world."

"What are his creations?" Ain asked curiously.

"It's unconfirmed, but some of our missions relate to omniums and god programs, and the person I interrogated and escalated on was relating to them both," Statinslav explained.

"If you did tell him about it, the omnic's spectral energy... The Iris, could haunt you for..." Ain said again.

"What in your mind is something called the Iris, it's like believing in fairies." Statinslav replied.

Silence erupted between the two majors within the Foreign Legion, Ain looking in between her pockets. The nonsense finished through a click of metal, removing her hands. Exposing what she was looking for, a tube with a green liquid and it's cap with a strange eye.

"What is that..." Statinslav asked.

"It's a charm to protect you from the Iris if it does come to haunt you," Ain explained, closing it between Statinslav's own hands.

As the hollers for night's out comes to erupt, everyone, Statinslav included, went to bed.

3 Hours Later

Statinslav's Subconscious

Statinslav's eyes opened up, "What the hell?"

Around him, he can move, but it was just white, sparks of other colors, no true form to what was going on around him. He'd take to clenching his fists and straightening his arms, twisiting then up and down with a help torso rotation, repeating several times.

"Your awake..." said a faint voice.

"Who are you? And where am I?" Statinslav asked with fear.

"There is no need to fear, as it's all in your subconscious." replied the voice, "I can't tell names, but in it's stead, I am the Antim Tekhartha," replied the voice, now posessing a stronger volume and reverb.

Sixty centimeters in front of Statinslav, jets of air swished around, flooding Statinslav's clothing to flap heavily, but a complex silhouette made of clear materials, in the shape of an omnic monk.

"Antim Tekhartha, what do you want with me?" Statinslav asked.

"Omnics and humans need to be in balance, with both species of Earth in harmony, one's higher self is open to those willing. But the man who you work for... The General who comes by the name Uugu... His goals dictate a balance disruption beyond tolerance for the Shambali. But the Iris won't allow it's priests to stop it. Because of you, Statinslav Ivanov, you have to desert his cause. If you wish to avoid being told as a bad guy by history," the Antim Tekhartha explained.

"Avoid being told as a bad guy?" Statinslav asked.

"That charm, contains the only physical embodiment of the Iris... Protect it at all costs, Uugu had planned to destroy the only element solidifying the Shambali, and peace between omnics and humans," the Antim Tekhartha continued, before making a pause, it's figure floating closer to Statinslav.

"Can you-"

"Remember, history is written by the victors..." interrupted the Antim Tekhartha, "What lies ahead from whom you killed, the crisis... Will be the testiment to protecting the Iris, acomplish that, then..."

The Antim Tekhartha vanished slowly, turning back into the enviornment, as the sparks of color exploded. Slowly swirling away, streteching back to black. Statinslav's two white eyes expanded beyond humanity.

Foreign Legion Base

Officer's Bunk

With his eyes now opened, turning to his left and to his right, the other officers still laying flat, sleeping. He'd get up from his bunk, no light, just darkness and eye adaptation.

"If it's true, I should escape while their's no daylight," he said mentally, rising from the bunk.

Pushing himself away from it, Statinslav grasps his upper main uniform and rushes silently into the next room.

Foreign Legion Base

Side Workshop

In between his hands, his upper segment of his combat uniform, looking in the small baskets, pulling them out, looking inside. Tools at priority above other materials.

Discovering a fifty millimeter cyllindrical spike in fifteen seconds, "Jackpot."

In it's hand now, descending forth his uniform, the hard backened shelf working perfectly for what he wants. His left arm breaking contact with the uniform, but not completely. Using his elbow as linking thread, twitching his right, preparing the needle, in between his fingers in adjustment, being right where he wants. Poking around the Foreign Legion symbol multiple times, creating a makeshift hole inside of it. Using another piece of cloth, now used a patch, sewing it in with help of some well blending cloth. Also collecting another Ukrainian flag insignia and cautiously sewing it on.

"Guns..." he grunted, walking past the cornerpoints, heading towards a seamlessly unknown course.

Foreign Legion Base

Armory Hallway

Without restraint, his arms shaking next to his sides alternating left and right, legs guiding along. Statinslav continued forward across the barren, thick lines. Breaknecking towards another door. Murdering his legs in the process, flopping smoothly once hearing multiple camera's performing their mechanical swish. Thermal radiation felt from multiple points, numerous lasers confronted next. Switching to limbo leaning, avoiding a side laser, then to break away and risked it all. Luckily reaching the armory door.

"Avoid contact, lasers will trigger the alarms." he'd mutter as he silently grasps the doorknob, twisting it too.

Foreign Legion Base

Armory

Neglected from light, darkness reveling while neglected. Statinslav's bipedal figure stood from the door's other side, totally slitting remnants of reflected shine. Dotted on his left, low light blue coarsely showcasing weapons for the taking. His thoughts was like glass, once he retrieved one of them of his choice, return was futile.

"Any gun... One for taking... Choose right, the fate is sealed," Statinslav muttered silently, promenading in locating any suitable firearm.

Weapon forty nine, twelve meters from Statinslav's starting location, cumbersome to many. Powerful in correct hands. He gets closer near it, close enough to where the metallica reflecting off it's dual holes, enough to fit a finger and thumb. He may not suit strong, bulky weapons, capabilities not advantageous when applied to himself. But to leave a fattened complex of defenses, may well been choosen. Rotating himself ninety degrees, directly staring that weapon. Searing nearer, satisfactory for inspecting usage requirements. Frowned upon realization it requires authorization beyond his reach as an officer.

"I can't risk getting caug-no, I will make the last impression," he'd deliberate quietly, finally making his choice.

Curling both upper limbs from stilts to angles. Tightly connected as support while Statinslav's foot begins work. Flatly stomping every second, chipping away what bondage remains. Creeping bolts, chinking through pressure. Hard plastic enduring the best although not prolonged. Submitting loose wires out of hiding.

Backing off for a moment, Statinslav rushes forward for another kick while roaring, "HAAAR!"

Landing with no remorse, all connections break off. Lights flicking on regardless despite all his efforts for a stealthy escape.

"SUKA BLYAT!" Statinslav growled once alarms begin their song, jerking hard right, then hard left.

Ruthlessly grappling the weapon, unilateral parity between it's mass and Statinslav's need. Exchanging between his hands, dominant laid millimeters, acting as the spark, for it's antithesis, the keg. Clawing two of his fingers, plugging both hollows. Glazing energy once secured and activated. Perfect timing, as while he prepared, surrender offerings arrive up his table. Fortunately originating face front.

Statinslav rises the weapon, directed towards his entering door's vital hinge, "Come at get some motherfuckers."

Clenching the sole finger capable of firing a shot. Energy glazing inside, released directionally. Halving all potential advarsaries for the present. But, not spared from his flanks. Spending no further time, Statinslav leaves his entering door for dead for another direction.

Statinslav's Betrayal of the Foreign Legion

Secondary Armory Hallway

Near perfect like walls formerly. Nothing except pity restricting the desperate man Statinslav has become. Wails filling every possible board coarse tile. Rushing every centimeter forward with deserting motivation. Coming forth rare double t section, potential sanctuary or death pits. Each movement, warcries followed, wailing beyond sirens every time. Distorting his planned path of escape, hard angled in between the former and latter.

"They expected me," he'd whisper, gunshots following.

Retaining words, escalating more chants against him. Statinslav tilts up as suppressive gunfire concludes. Excluding his right hand, instead utilizing it differently. Raising like a school aged kid, ironic as he was. Barely grazing the tiles above him.

He'd smile, "Checkmate..."

Statinslav immediate reaction was to alter how he handled the weapon. The same frontal metallica, a new handle. Curve sweeping northwards, creating stress through swinging. Following through another, same method, different direction. Cracking it again, then frontal, unevenly collapsing. Debris and fine material irradiating what hallway remains.

"ARGH," Statinslav grunted as a large chunk gets into his eyelid, stretching it slightly.

Light of day reached, Statinslav regains his weapon, and lobs it up, using what reference points made as cues for his own climb.

Statinslav's Betrayal of the Foreign Legion

Between the Floors

Exhausted from what transpired, he required periodic breaks. However his life was full of do or fail. Struggling for energy, bending his left knee involuntarily. Profusely unable to breathe inside through small air pockets nor a gaping hole as sized for human consumption. Only between both upper limbs, the gun. Standing on all fours, leaking sweat like a teardropper across multiplying pores.

"I have to ke-ep going..." He'd say to himself, gritting his teeth and moaning, "I have to..."

Jutting forwards, feeling what he obtained and brought so far, flooding it slowly.

"Keep moving..." Statinslav said in force, grasping the directed energy weapon.

He'd return to a normal bipedal stature while still void of necessary carbs or lipids, "FORWARD!"

Nothing stopped Statinslav's reignited will as all thoughts opposing forced under his will. Using the gun's body. Adrenaline flowing like madmen taking steroids, nothing stopping Statinslav, breaking what resisted in front effortlessly. Wires too long staying with Statinslav while the short and weaker flying behind him alongside sweat streaks.

"I have to push... Or written as a bad guy by history..." Statinslav said, no longer confined to mutters, whispers, or internal dialogue.

Approaching another wall, he'd stop running, permitting all his passengers to fall inanimate. While he'd use the chance for another recharge. Buzzes of electricity comes after him, swiftsearching quickly. Turning around once again under the circumstances.

Moderately in pace, he'd breathe while assuming his next course, "There's too many wires and little open spaces, but..."

Statinslav puts both fingers from before back recharging the weapon again. Retraining upwards, retracting his arm before pulling it's trigger. Unintentionally destabilizing three tiles, built particles dropping across what conductive soup created. Forming a solution out of a mostly unintentional shot. While too multiple utility equipment crashes from above. Flicking what visible light confined the upper floor dissipates near instantly. With no safer options, he'd risk it. Minding whatever wires standing his way.

Statinslav's Betrayal of the Foreign Legion

Utility Room

Standing straight raised Statinslav enough, multiple centimeter thick wires holding such weight and Statinslav afloat. Which he'd leap out, weapon in hand. All the lights flicking solid light again.

Staring directly up for a fraction, he'd made a future choice, "I have to be absolutely sure I can escape under the cover."

Taking further action through reasserting former position he once used for his original entrance, swinging as hard as before. Each wire breaking apart more easily than before, compared with the ceiling tiles. Cutting all power throughout the Foreign Legion's base. Statinslav then leaped across, entering another hallway.

Statinslav's Betrayal of the Foreign Legion

Utility Hallway

Barren too, just like every other hallway under darkness. Excepting reflected light, originating near it's rear end equivalent. Running quickly without screwing, he has to reach the outside to escape. Even if it meant risking death just to get out of the building without actual exits. Statinslav himself questioned why would he risk a death trap in just escape.

Bending himself sharply, overtly in shock what it was, a completely exposed panoramic view of the base, glass covered, "A death trap certain to happen, unless escaped."

Statinslav's Betrayal of the Foreign Legion

Glass Panorama

Almost nothing blocking the base view excusing the hallway he entered. Towers erect and stern. Strobes like a disco flying across the sky. Small people walking, running, or other acts. Dampened through nightly glare, vehicles strobes too, but under shorter range but superior control. Lesser buildings housing other materials like the vehicles, supplies, and security.

"It's wonderful, but it's destruction is worse to come," Statinslav muttered as his body rotated, looking full circle for a moment, scoping lights barely shade the preteen.

Still holding his weapon, lunged forward. Smashing it forward stock first. Cracking the glass, killing it into smaller pieces or chunks. Leaping moments after it broke, gritting in pain, resisting moaning until he can. Irresistible as multiple shards covered front and center

Statinslav's Betrayal of the Foreign Legion

Grounds

Falling meters is scary for someone who hasn't, Statinslav included. Luckily landing softly through an open water tank. But sacrificed in his ongoing escape. Tipping over enough, leading to the now wet and blood spilling boy to the next part of his escape. Surprised he even survived such a jump without serious infliction or death.

"It's lucky I survived, all the gates are clear if rammed via a vehicle." he said mentally as he'd rush across rows upon rows, meters and meters of roads and open field.

Fortunately dodging spotlights through his rash thought decison. Concluding as another, nanometers barely touching Statinslav's foot while pressuring the artifical rock like hydraulics. Exterior alarms blared once gunfire erupted, bullet holes, numbering in the tens missing Statinslav. Triggering more hormones of fight or flight, choosing the latter within subconscious thought. Sprinting for his life towards a vehicle bay. Losing breath every minute sprinting, further facilitated while he'd pant.

Statinslav's Betrayal of the Foreign Legion

Vehicle Bay

Rushing under the trunk of a jeep, then on it's roof. Performing such moves under the arising pressure around his current home, a militaristic installation. Tempting avoidance from visibility. Even as he'd notice chopper screams and jet roars. Settling upon all such vehicles parked correctly, that vehicle, model jeep deeper inside the bay.

"There!" he'd shortly exclaim.

Statinslav's hands moved again, readjusting his weapon again. Slamming hard side first, instilling his wills upon whatever it hit. Stepping upwards, barely held within straps of safety. Bending his elbow to open the door from inside. Carefully pulling it out before inserting everything for the final escape.

He'd pull another pin, coincidentally similar to what he used a couple of minutes earlier, "WORK!"

Jamming that same pin inside before manning self it's movements, accidentally triggering ignition of what he wanted, the jeep's engine. Sighing in relief it did happen, another rare break point for Statinslav in his escape. Using how long now obtained to energize before the situation turned hot.

Twisting the steering and pressing the gas, Statinslav thought, "Can I escape them with this?"

Statinslav's Betrayal of the Foreign Legion

Vehicular

With no mercy, compassion or dignity, he was fighting for historical placement. An influence the Antim Tekhartha was able to instill with thoughtful and peaceful intervention. Twisting harshly into the gates, breaking it like hard noodles horizontally broken. Gritting his teeth, he'd once again turn sharply, escaping the complex and quickly as he needed.