Civilization (I'll Stay Right Here)
By Kachimoochi
Chapter XIII
Just Call It
The Prince and his guards, alongside Anaximander and Kaisar exchanged pleasantries, before discussing the important matter. The Prince offered to return to the Sultan's castle, though Anaximander enlightened that he'd already made his father privy to his arrival.
Sensing that Anaximander held grave news, The Prince instructed his golden guards to fabricate a tent for them to conference in. The guards used their artificial GECKs to create a tent, in which Anaximander, Kaisar, and The Prince stepped inside of, the guards stood guard on each side of the entrance.
The trio made themselves comfortable, the tent was a massive protective pyramid, in a Greek military style. The fabric surrounding them was crimson in color, and adorn with golden shapes and designs, by now Anaximander was a bit annoyed of the constant appearance of gold. The Prince found a tea set, and made his human guest and himself a brew, before sitting in front of them, Indian style, readying himself for an important mission.
"Ah, Anaximander, and Kaisar…it has been long since we last met. It was Napoleon IV's birthday correct? Or was it Cromwell's?" The Prince prefaced their meeting by reminiscing about the past.
By this point, Anaximander had removed the remaining sleep sand from his eye corners, now able to see The Prince in all his regal glory.
The regal figure before him was much the same as he'd last seen. He was still adorn in his white turban, smaller than his fathers, and his serviceable leather armor. His arms were adorn in white sleeves barely attached to his armor, while his legs were adorn with much the same material.
Despite his average upbringing, he quickly adopted the persona of an honorable and stubborn Prince, though much the same as his father, he sported a small, black goatee and chin badger, while the rest of his off-white face possessed the same smile.
"It was Cromwell's I believe, time passes to fast these days, and now I suspect even faster" Anaximander responded, allowing himself to settle on the carpet above the sand.
"Well, though I suspect you mean well, I imagine your visit is not a social one, correct?" The Prince spoke, passing Anaximander his cup of tea.
"Heh, yes. It never ceases to amaze me that we are afforded all of the time in the universe, yet we still can't make time or our own friends" Anaximander stopped to sip his tea, it was his favorite: Chai.
"Indeed your majesty, we do come bearing a mission of upmost importance, or so we're told" Kaisar announced, resorting to crouching on the sandy floor, as Geth couldn't maneuver their legs into the crisscross fashion.
"So true, well I understand. My talents are the most envious, it would be selfish to seclude them to my own kingdom, how may I serve you my gentlemen?" The Prince said, grateful that his friends at least had the courtesy to meet him in person.
"That is the thing" Anaximander resumed. "You're not really serving us, but rather Altair, and possibly his brother, for a possible disproportionate reward"
"Altair? Hmm, then it must be quite serious indeed, I have not seen him longer than I hadn't seen you."
"I said much of the same, all he told me is that he'd been busy for the last few years, his brother had disappeared suddenly, and he had to take the mantle of liberating men. You should have seen him; he looked older than your father"
"It is a difficult task to liberate an entire species, I imagine. Does this mean he's enlisted your help?"
"No, in fact, I have no idea what he wants me to do. Altair had only instructed me to gather the most powerful forces in Civilization to face a coming enemy"
"What force could necessitate the combined powers of Civilization?"
"According to Altair, the Batarians"
"Batarians? What threat do those tree frogs pose to our galaxies?" The Prince spoke in disbelief, knowing that no force in heaven, hell, or in between could ever pose a legitimate threat to Civilization.
"That's the thing, the Batarians are planning to invade Earth, with most of the men gone, the planet and its inhabitants are left quite vulnerable. I believe they wish to gain a better foothold in the Milky Way, and Earth is the most valuable target"
The Prince stood up in disbelief and disgust, and took to pacing across the length of the tent, ranting as he strode.
"Earth? Batarians? Invasion? What business is this of ours? It was Earth inhabitants that betrayed us our entire lives, the ones worthy or skeptical have long since left and found homes in Civilization. I say let the Batarians take over Earth, it is not a symbol of my home, it is a symbol of my bondage, I will thank them to enslave the slavers in return"
"Come now Your Highness, I know you are bitter, I am too. I guess you might say I am doing this as a favor to Altair, I have no stake in Earth any longer, but even I admit that not all of our moments there were bad"
"I mean to say "what is our profit in this?" Do you believe the women and men that remain on Earth will be grateful to us for saving them? Why, I bet once the Batarian flagships are in the atmosphere, scores of women will take to the streets, welcoming their new captors. You know that I am correct" The Prince froze in place, directing his tirade to Anaximander now.
"Hmph, yes I agree. However I still think of saving the remaining men on Earth as well. The Force has corrupted females by their nature, but they have only captivated men by their consequences. Altair insists that he has a plan to liberate the rest of them from the Earth, but he can't do it in time before the Batarians arrive" Anaximander tried to reason.
"I still don't understand. Altair has instructed you to gather a group of the most powerful men in Civilization, and set them against an armada of incoming Batarians? It isn't the political fallout that concerns me, but rather the prospect of a handful of men battling against millions of Batarians. How can this be done?"
The Prince sat himself once again in front of his audience, as Kaisar and Anaximander relaxed equally, Anaximander had to think of a plan fast.
"If we possess a technology that can create anything from our wildest imaginations, I am certain that our combined imaginations will more than suffice against such warmongering savages"
The Prince had a confused look on his face, until it seemed that a light bulb had awakened itself.
"I know what's going on here. This is a publicity stunt, one of Altair's famous theatrics. By your logic Altair could make a million atom bombs with his GECK and launch them at the Batarian forces before they even entered the Sol"
The Prince stood up from his carpet, and nearly spilled his tea in the process.
"He's doing this on purpose; he wants to inspire the remaining men to see an example of Civilization. We're not a fighting force, we're mascots!" The Prince exclaimed, the entire plot seeming so obvious, yet so contrived by Altair's nature.
Anaximander and Kaisar sat gobsmacked, it was so obvious, why didn't they realize it sooner?
"Oh my lord! That was his plan this entire time. Produce a force to demonstrate the unity of Civilization, we're not saving the Earth, we're putting on a commercial" Anaximander stood with The Prince, starting to pace the floor alongside the dauphin.
"I dare say" Kaisar spoke "There may be a double purpose as well, not only is it a way of inspiring the remaining men, but is sends a clear message to the galaxy against us: Don't Tread On Us"
The trio was now equally pacing the tent's length; The Prince despite his surprise was exiting about the prospect of starring in the best commercial in galactic history. Whilst Anaximander slapped his forehead in with a dumbfounded expression and Kaisar deleted the logic portion of his human emotion module.
The three spoke in unison after some contemplation.
"Clever, Sneaky Bastard" The three roared.
They then began to laugh and resumed their impromptu tea party.
"I've known Altair most of my adult life, I know of his love for theatrics, I have no idea why I didn't figure it out in the first place" Anaximander whispered after a hardy giggle.
"Perhaps the drug factory mission was his way of softening you up, you haven't slept in nearly three days after all, Sir" Kaisar added.
"Now that I've had a semi-rest, it all seems so clear now"
The Prince regained their attention by refilling their cups and handing them a pastry.
"I must say, though I rule an entire kingdom and galaxy alongside my father, I often fantasize about being in the lime light"
"No matter how much we evolve, we're all slaves to the lights, cameras, and action" Anaximander agreed.
"Well, consider me the first to join your little fellowship, I don't know how much a sword-wielding, free-running, prince can do to defeat a Batarian armada, but I can't help but find out" The Prince decided, now suddenly ecstatic about the coming mission.
"We are honored to allow you to be the first, but the attack won't occur for at least a week, meaning we still have time to collect more allies for our little advertisement" Anaximander accepted his offer.
"Oh my, Civilization possesses a literal cornucopia of powerful men of every culture, media, and personality. I'm scared of who you have in mind next"
"Take my word; you're not nearly as scared as I am"
"So you do have someone in mind?"
"Yes, but I doubt he'll come as willingly as you, and now that we've figured out that this is a glorified Vid-spot for the superbowl, he'll be even less willing. His occupation isn't one that favors publicity"
"Then what is your plan Sir?" Kaisar asked.
"For now, and only for now, what say we keep this theory of ours to ourselves? After all that's all it is for now, a theory, we may be giving Altair more credit than he deserves"
"Do you actually believe that Sir?"
"No…no I do not"
On another planet, long away from Persia, the next member of the fellowship awaited.
In a warehouse located in an urban city, modeled after an industrial Detroit, a deal of deceit has occurred.
This planet was populated with artificial beings whose lives revolved around crime and decadence, the perfect location for the next man to hone his abilities, and indulge in his fantasies.
A gang of five men were contacted by a mysterious stranger for a deal of a lifetime. The voice offered a cheap stash of drugs for at least 5 times their market value. The only stipulation was that they all arrive at the warehouse, leaving the entirety of the gang in one spot.
Any gangster with half a brainstem could see that this was a trap, or at least too good to be true. The thugs demanded no questions or information from the seller, and agreed to bring the entirety of their gang to the meeting spot. As if this testament to their boundless (or programmed) stupidity wasn't ridiculous enough, the thugs planned to ambush the seller and rob him. They had no idea what they were walking in to.
A black, unmarked van approached an abandoned factory after departing from their base of an abandoned crack den. The 4 thugs were loading their submachine guns, whilst the final thug drove them to the fateful spot.
"Heh, this moron has no idea who he's messing with" One thug guffawed.
"If this idiot is dumb enough to be alone as he promised, he'll get what's coming to him, if anything we'll be doing him a favor, the gene pool don't need retards like him" Another responded.
"I still don't like this dude, I mean why did he ask us all to meet him? Everyone we've dealt with so far has insisted to operate by a courier, why would he want all of us?" The driver introduced, to no avail.
"Yo, I'm with him, this don't make no sense. Why would he sell 30 kilos of pure grade, unrefined Red Sand for only 700 credits, I've never even seen 1 kilo go any less that 6,000? I'm tellin' ya man, it's a set up" The youngest gangster spoke sheepishly.
"All you mongo's shut the hell up, Rodrigo gave me this guy's number, that's enough for me to know he's legit" The gang leader shouted from the passenger seat.
The roaring voice of the boss was enough to put the sheep in their place, and the troupe rode in silence for the remainder of the trip.
Before long, the group parked outside of the warehouse, it was surrounded on every side by abandoned apartments and drug stores, almost as if the Rapture had come.
The 4 gangsters departed the van, while the boss ordered the driver to stay put, and be on the lookout for the authorities.
When the men were all inside the building, the driver pulled his seat back, and played on his portable gaming system, he truly was this dull.
The creator of these men and the planet was concerned that they wouldn't serve as much a challenge to him, though the real prey he hunted behaved in much the same manner.
A police car approached the van from behind a corner, though it didn't have its siren on. It parked behind the van, bringing the Driver's winning streak to a screeching halt.
"Oh Shi- wait, he doesn't know why I'm here, okay, okay, okay, don't say shit, just be quiet unless he asks something" The driver reasoned with himself, throwing his system in the back of the van, and returning his seat to the correct position.
Perhaps he believed he could smooth-talk his way past this officer, and help his friends. The scary part of all this was that much of the man's prey acted uncannily like this android.
A figure exited the driver side of the police car, but this figure didn't appear to be an officer, maybe a plain clothes one perhaps.
He was a dark-skinned man, perhaps of Spanish or Arab decent, and was dressed in a black jacket with black cargo pants, a navy blue dress shirt in between. He seemed to be a bit ill, as he strode slowly, carrying an…oxygen tank beside him.
His face appeared as if he hadn't slept in days, though his stoic face and hollow eyes were shadowed slightly by his lengthy and bouncy bowl-cut.
"Da hell is dis?" The driver spoke internally, as he eyed the figure approaching through the side mirror.
The figure knocked on the glass window with his gloved knuckles, beckoning the driver to roll it down.
"A heh heh, can I help you with something officer?"
"Step out of the car please"
The driver was surprised to hear the voice of the plainclothesman, he expected to hear a common, stereotypical Hispanic or Arab accent, only to find the figure spoke in a whispery, low-pitched Transatlantic accent, like something out of a 50s movie.
"Can you tell me what I did wrong?"
"Step out of the car please"
The driver let out an audible, exasperated sigh, before unlocking his door and slowly exiting his vehicle.
"Look, officer, as far as I know I didn't do nothing wrong, and I'm pretty sure you're supposed to tell me what I'm being arrested for" The driver spoke, placing his hands on his head and leaning against the side of the car.
"I'm not going to arrest you"
"Then what the hell did you make me get out the van for?"
The "officer" produced the oxygen tank, leaning it against the van and detangling the hose portion leading from the top. He placed the hose in front of the driver's face, beckoning him to swallow it.
"Put this in your mouth" the "officer" spoke in a dark, deep, uninterested voice.
"Uh…I ain't never seen a breathalyzer like that before, 'zit new or something?"
"Please sir, I don't have all day"
"Aight man" the driver spoke as his mouth surrounded the tube to the oxygen tank.
His final thought would be the realization that it wasn't an oxygen tank.
The 4 gangsters entered the warehouse through the front door, they all produced flashlights as they expected the power to be deactivated, as most buildings in this faux-Detroit were.
They were surprised to find the warehouse contained only a single room, large to the height of at least 30 feet, only past a small registration room. Though the waiting room was as light as could be, the light in the production room was dim, not necessitating a flashlight, but dim enough to be unsettled.
"Yo man, I ain't feelin this no more, this has gotta be a trap" One said.
"Yeah man, I don't see nobody either, this smells like a sting"
"Man I just got out the pen; I don't wanna go back now"
"Shut up!, I don't care if you want your mommas, I like the looks of this place, even if he ain't here, we may as well set up base here, now all you idiots find the light switch to this place, I can't see a frickin thing" The boss roared.
The four spread out in effort to find the supposed switch, they weren't very much concerned, even though they'd been supposedly bamboozled, the open, though dim area of the warehouse gave them much room to see one another.
Not that it would help.
Suddenly, a sound engulfed the entire warehouse, it sounded like an airplane turbine, high-pitched and a second long.
It was followed by 2 more of the same sounds in quick succession, the alarmed gnagsters produced their Mac 10's in fear of the sound.
"Da hell is dat?" One spoke.
"Man that's a silenced gun, I'm tellin ya" The second said.
"Man I want out, I don't care about the drugs, I want out" The youngest of them screeched.
It was at this moment, the already dim lights of the warehouse began to flicker, though only twice before regaining their meager brightness.
The boss exited the waiting room slowly, step by step, looking a slight bit different.
"Yo Boss, did you he- OH MY GOD!" The youngest screamed, as the dark figure became more visible.
The boss was leaking blood from his mouth, and a sizeable hole protruded his abdomen, it was then that his left arm fell off his body, having obviously been shot off. He gave one final breath before collapsing on the ground, his eyes twitching in fear.
"Everybody get the hell back, there's someone else here"
"Where the hell is he?"
"I don't like this man" The youngest made a break for the front door of the warehouse, through the reception room, only to find it bolted shut and barricaded from the outside.
"We're trapped!" The youngest cried
He then heard two more of the same sounds that allegedly killed his boss, freezing the young man in his place. What the hell had he done? What could he do now?
The young gangster slowly crept to the side of the doorway to the production floor, and peeked around the corner.
He saw a man in a black jacket, armed with a black shotgun with a silver muzzle deliver a killing blow on the second henchmen, freezing suddenly, and turning within a second to face the watcher.
"Oh shit oh shit oh no please" The young man whispered to the dark-skinned assassin.
The figure didn't process the final gangster's pleas; he simply walked rigidly towards the groveling man's position.
The boy collapsed on his rear, and backed away towards the doorway, until his head impacted with the metallic wall, sealing his fate.
The figure approached the boy and stood still before him, not raising his shotgun, not speaking, only waiting.
"Look man, I'm sorry, I don't want no part of this no more, I won't tell nobody about you, I'll just leave, you won't never hear from me again, just please man" The poor boy cried for his life, now knowing how many had been in the same position before.
The figure reached into his pocket and revealed a small, circular object, and immediately threw it towards the boy, who instinctively caught it.
The boy observed the object, finding it to be a coin, a model of the half-dollar American coin, the bust of John F. Kennedy adorning the front. He stared back at the glaring assassin.
"Call it"
"What? You me-mean play it?"
"Just call it"
Knowing his fate could be sealed; the boy closed his eyes and offered a minute prayer, before announcing his choice to the man, and flipping it with his right thumb, and immediately pressed it against the soft side of his left hand, awaiting fate to make its decision.
A single, lone figure exited the warehouse, he checked his feet for blood, and walked away silently, a shotgun in hand.