Neo World of Advent
Chapter Two: Light's POV
The walls of the recruitment center were brightly lit – so much so that Light had to wonder if it was an intimidation tactic. Find out who the weak are before the battlefield. Crude, but effective. Light simply sat patiently in the hard chair the Assessor had given him to sit in. It had been thirty minutes past the time he said he would be back and Light wondered if he had any intentions of doing so.
Light would not be deterred, however. His bright blonde hair and fierce blue eyes seemed to reflect the light and his determination as he sat rigidly in the space given to him. He had come a long way to get here, physically and emotionally. He had lost people – or rather, they lost him.
The ceiling, Light noticed, was curved. The alignment of the room was uneven. Everything about it seemed off-putting. Not for the first time, Light wondered if the person in charge of the assessment of his skills was prejudiced against Advents. It wouldn't be the first time he encountered such beliefs – that humans or their children, regardless of species could not fight like a reploid could.
Of course, Light found this ridiculous. The Neo Arcadian Army did not fight close quarters in the vast majority of their combat situations. The weapons given to them would destroy a human's body, yes. But so would it to a reploid as well. Besides, if it did come down to close combat, Light was prepared.
The door creaked open and a portly reploid holding a schedule stepped inside from the opposite end of the room.
"You're still here. Don't you know where the door is?"
"Six feet behind me and two to the left," Light answered promptly. "Can we move on with this? I'm sure both of us have better things to do than sit around and wait all day."
"It's your funeral, kid." The reploid sat down on a chair opposite Light. His badge read "Assessor Barnes."
"What questions do you have for me today?" Light asked. This was not his first visit. And if he did not receive what he wanted, it would not be his last either.
"Just a few," Barnes grunted. "Why do you want to be in the army so badly, kid?"
"You mean a sense of patriotic duty isn't enough incentive?"
Barnes chuckled darkly. "Whatever it is that brought you here, it wasn't for the greater good of Neo Arcadia. What are you really here for?"
"The army has certain privileges that civilians do not have access to. I'm looking for someone, or rather, two people. I'm hoping this would help me do that."
Barnes shook his head. "You came to enlist when you could just hire a Private Eye? You're either stupid or crazy. And the IQ tests we pulled on you rules out the stupid."
Light smiled mirthlessly. "Disaster follows them wherever they go. I daresay that I'll find them in time."
"They sound like quite the people. Your friends."
"You have no idea." Light tapped the metallic surface of the table absentmindedly.
"So then." Barnes pushed an envelope Light's way. "I think I've wasted enough of your time with trying to chase you away. My conscience is clear; whatever happens out there, I tried to stop it."
"I assure you," Light said, "I can handle myself." Light opened the envelope. Two sheets of paper fell out.
"Those are your application," Barnes said. "Sign your name in the first one. That's a release of liability for the Arcadian government. The second is a background check. Answer it truthfully or you will be denied any further access to enlisting."
Light signed them quickly, sliding them back to Barnes when finished.
"It says here that you were part of that Umera incident. Name's Light, eh? Say, you wouldn't happen to be the Resistance Leader's kid, would you?" Barnes laughed.
"I could be." Whereas Barnes was clearly making a joke, Light was completely serious. "It's a strange world."
"Yeah," Barnes said, "But I'll eat my boot if Ciel's kid turned in an application to work for Neo Arcadia."
Light said nothing.
"Well then," Barnes said. "Everything looks to be in order. I just have to run this by the machine to check its viability. You'd be surprised how many criminals try to enlist for a second chance at life."
"I'm no criminal, I assure you." Light's crystal blue eyes were like twin pools in the reflection of the table. "But I am looking for a second chance, you could say."
"I can believe that," Barnes said. "Why don't you go downstairs with the rest of the recruits? If something turns up here, I'll send you topside again."
"You mean I actually get to see something other than this charming room?"
"Don't get smart with me kid," Barnes said. "I reserve any and all rights to refuse application."
"Alright, alright. I'm going." Light made his way through the door Barnes had come through. Through it, a long hallway stretched on for a hundred feet with doors lining every six feet of it. At the end, a small elevator stood, black and grey, gleaming from a fresh coat of oil.
Light didn't wait to be introduced with the black and grey contraption. He wasted no time in making a brisk walk, eyes fixed firmly on the elevator. Once within arm's reach, Barnes called out.
"The code is Two-Three-Five-Six-O-Eight," he said. "Don't mess it up, or it'll lockdown."
Light nodded and punched in the code. A bar preventing access to the insides of the transport lifted and a woman's disembodied voice welcomed him to Neo Arcadian Enlisting Office #3308.
The sides of the elevator were also metal, but with spaces in between them so that Light could see beyond them. Through the elevator's slow descent, the scenery shifted to various floors responsible, Light surmised, for different facilities in the Neo Arcadian Army. One floor was a fully operational hangar, with jets and carriers being fixed and forged.
When it was time for his stop, the elevator came to a jarring halt and a pleasant "Ding!" The bar lifted once more and a spacious floor presented itself to Light. The four corners of the floor had walls fifty feet high. The floor itself was several hundred feet, with various groups of people surrounding a padded arena. The lights were dimmed.
"Recruit!" A harsh voice rang out. "The name is Sergeant Halls. I'm responsible for passing – or failing – your pretty face." A heavily muscled reploid woman came into view. "Follow me."
Light followed Sergeant Halls down the floor toward its center, where a large group of candidates waited restlessly. They snapped to attention at the sight of Sergeant Halls.
"Welcome back Sir!" the crowd cried in unison.
"At ease, recruits." Halls made a motion for them to relax. "Now that our final member has joined us, it's time for an assessment of your pitiful abilities."
"Sir?" a voice quavered. It belonged to a small reploid with green and blue armor. "What exactly will we be doing?"
"We will be assessing how well you handle combat," Halls said. "First with handhelds. Then with assault rifles, and last hand to hand combat." She gave a smirk to Light, the only fleshly recruit in the bunch.
"Yes sir!" This time, Light's voice joined the crowd.
"Good. Now if you ladies will follow me, we have some work to do." Halls beckoned them toward the end of the floor, where people were firing off into a firing range. "Safety first," Halls said. "If I catch any of you without proper gear on or with your safety off when not directly inside the range, you will be ejected from the program immediately. Do I make myself clear?"
Halls gave them all a pistol and a number. "Once the recruit before you has finished firing, relieve them of the position according to your number. Number One will go first. Two, second and et cetera."
Light glanced down at his number. Thirty-two. A quick scan of his group told him that he would be going last.
The first of the recruits hit the target, but was a far cry from a good shot. The second and third recruits fared better, but still suffered from a slight recoil. Light analyzed the recoil rate of each pistol in regard to the muscle mass ratio of each recruit, and determined the approximate recoil rate of the pistol model they were given.
When it came to be Recruit Fourteen's turn, he missed the target entirely, a "twang!" sound rattling the metal walls from the opposite side.
"Pitiful," Halls said. "That's enough, recruit."
Recruit Fifteen and Sixteen seemed demoralized by this performance and ended up barely hitting the target. Seventeen, by comparison, hit the bulls-eye on his third shot.
And so it went. Recruit after recruit lined up to fire, be yelled at, have their assessment scribbled down on a notepad and be replaced by the next recruit. When Recruit Thirty-three's turn ended, Halls directed Light to the range, muttering that he had better not "Fuck it up."
Light took aim and fired. The bullet tore through the red center, followed by five more bullets that shredded the bulls-eye further. An audible gasp could be heard by some of the reploids behind him. Halls quickly silenced them and scribbled on her notebook. She said nothing to Light.
"Next up, we have assault weapons training," Halls called out. "Improper treatment of equipment will be grounds for immediate ejection."
More or less, Light found the assault weapons training to be a replication of the handheld training. Those with experience with weapons found their mark while those who had never held heavy weaponry were made obvious that they had never done so.
Light raised the rifle to the appropriate level, pulling the trigger in short bursts. Each target exploded in a puff of black smoke and powder. Light switched off the safety, handing it back to Halls, who looks begrudgingly impressed.
"Alright, Advent." Halls addressed Light directly. "You may have done well in weapons training, but we have hand to hand combat next. Any broken bones, and you're out. Are we clear?"
"And if I break them?"
"Ha!" Halls let out a short laugh. "You've got spirit. I'll give you that. Meet us at the ring, everyone."
In the direct center of the room, a large arena blocked off on its sides covered a large portion of the floor. It stood five feet high, supported by four constructs at each corner that led into thick steps on each side.
"Recruit," Halls said, looking at Light. "You will be assessed by Captain Gerro here." Captain Gerro, it transpired, was a massive reploid at a hulking eight feet. He grinned wickedly.
"Are you sure, Halls?" Gerro asked. "The kid could get hurt."
"He signed the waiver. You're good to go. Show him a taste of the Arcadian Army." Halls stood back, pen ready to fail Light should she hear the snap of a cracked or broken bone.
"Get in the ring, recruit." Gerro's footsteps made sinking indents in the padding of the arena. His gray armor did not seem to burden his fluid movement, however, and Light found himself bracing for the fight.
Gerro threw the first punch. Light dodged, elbowing the sie of the heavy reploid, only to have it bounce off harmlessly.
Light's eyes narrowed. Against any human, this would be an impossible fight. But, Light thought, he was not human. Not fully, anyhow. However much he looked the part, he was equally as much reploid. And so he showed a portion of that latent power.
As Gerro threw the next punch, Light ducked down, a dark-red sheen covering his body. Time seemed to slow down as his perception and senses were drastically improved. Gerro's look of surprise may have been in slow motion as Light's fist sank into the gray reploid's stomach, cracking the armor.
"Ooph!" Gerro coughed up a spot of oil. But grinned. "So he can fight!" Gerro made a sweeping kick to knock Light's legs from under him, but Light jumped high, kicking Gerro in the face as he sailed down. The reploid went down like a sack of bricks.
"That oversol…" Halls said, all disparity forgotten. "Who is your sire?"
"I never met him," Light said. "But I inherited his power."
"Yes, I can see that," Halls said. "Well, I'll be the first to say that I was wrong about you. I'll have someone wake Captain Gerro up. You seem frighteningly familiar, but I can't put my finger to it."
"I can live with being frightening," Light said. "So. Do I pass?"
"With flying colors," Halls said. "You see that, recruits? That's how it's done."
Light smiled and allowed the dark-red recesses of metallic skin to revert back to their normal state. Halls patted Light on the back, issuing him a communication device that she told him would beep when it was time for the next phase in his enlistment.
"Enjoy your last few days as a civilian," Halls said. "Soon you will be a soldier of Neo Arcadia."
Light nodded. He was approved to go Topside once more through the elevator. As it rose, Light couldn't help but grin. At last, he had been approved to enter the Neo Arcadian Army. As for which branch he would be entered to, he had no idea.
Anything but the sea, Light thought to himself. He often got seasick on choppy seas and didn't know if he could handle Leviathan's marine Corps.
Back on the surface, the long hallway no longer seemed to stretch on forever. Light allowed himself to look at the names that adorned the sides of the hundred-foot space. James McKerner, Tech Support. Julie Sentassa, Combat specialist. Dick Barnes, Public Relations.
"So kid," Barnes called out to Light from his office. "Get kicked out so soon?"
Light held up the communication device and a camera, snapping a picture of Barnes' incredulous expression. In the following days it would become his screensaver.
Outside, the sea blew salty air into Light's nostrils. He relished the scent of the sea. It was really a pity he couldn't stand the rocky seas. Who knew, if he conquered his seasickness, he might actually enjoy the sea more.
Light looked to the sky, and noticed that it was already dark. Though the streets of Neo Arcadia were well lit at night, Light preferred to use natural light to guide his way back to his flat.
Located in the middle-class area of Neo Arcadia, his apartment was located conveniently over a black market fight club, where he would often practice whenever he needed to blow off some steam. Light figured that he could spare some time and watch a few fights.
The entrance to the fight club was surprisingly mundane. Disguised as a night club, those who were approved with a certain phrase were allowed access to the back rooms, where soundproofing ensured that whatever transpired within those walls did not soil the booming music of the night club.
"Welcome to the "Black Sky," a clerk said in a dull monotone upon hearing Light's footsteps. "Please state your name and business."
"You make this place sound like a respectable business," Light smirked. "How are you doing, Sneak?"
Sneak jumped up at Light's voice. "Yo! It's Crimson, everybody. Old Crimson's finally returned to us at last."
Light shook his head at his nickname. It had been received some years earlier, when he had challenged a reploid much more experienced than he.
Back then, Light had nowhere to go. It was just after Chaos and Sanctum had left him in the dust, and he was a much more reckless soul than he was even today. When Light had found "Black Sky," he asked Sneak if this was the right place to "Blow off some steam."
Naturally Sneak was suspicious, but a quick pat-down and a determination that he had no acquaintance with the police gave Light access to the back room, where he was met with a massive reploid named Crock.
Crock had insulted him, Light recalled.
"You there!" Crock called out. "New guy! You up for a fight?"
Light's eyes found the Scoreboard, and atop it, Crock's name and ranking. No. 1. Light gave a black grin and put what Zenny he had left on himself. The Score Keeper called him crazy, but Light refuted this simply by stating that he had had "A very bad day."
The Keeper snorted, and told him that it was about to get worse.
Crock roared his approval along the crowd as Light entered the ring. Light could dodge fairly well, even then, but time and exhaustion gave way to being lifted into the air only to be slammed down on Crock's massive knee.
"We have another victory for Crock!" he called out, a second too soon. Light stood back up, bloody face and a grimace belying a sturdy stance.
"The runt can take a hit at least," Crock said. "Who here wants to see what his bones look like?"
The crowd roared its assent.
"Hey." Light addressed his opponent. "I can't be sure if this'll work. But if it does, I can't guarantee you will leave this arena in one piece."
Crock roared and ran right at Light as Light's oversol kicked into place. A black-and-red fist sunk deep into Crock's face and Crock flew outside the arena, breaking the borders.
There was a moment of stunned silence before the crowd started chanting Light's stage name, given no doubt for the crimson blood pouring out from his head, soaking his blonde hair deep red.
"Crimson! Crimson! Crimson!"
Light grinned. "Sorry guy," he addressed Crock. "But I've had a really bad day."
"So the champ returns, eh?" Sneak leaned forward. "What happened? Met a girl? Why haven't we seen you lately?"
"Been taking care of some official business," Light said. "Pretty soon I won't be able to come here. Thought I might as well say goodbye."
"Alright Big Red," Sneak said. "Well I'll show you back room."
Amidst the roar of the crowd, Light slipped by unnoticed. He ordered a strong drink at the bar, enjoying the thrill of watching people fight and the buzz of alcohol. Two Advents were tonight's featured fight. One wore a dusty black oversol, while the other darted back and forth without ever activating his. Pretty soon, Black Oversol wore himself out, and his opponent, a fiery girl with a white oversol coming out decked him. Light winced as he heard the "Crack" of her fist into his jaw even from there.
The evening wrapped itself up neatly. Light watched a few fights, had a few more drinks, and retired himself for the night. His flat, a small apartment was just a quick trip up the stairs. Light fumbled his keys and opened the door, collapsing onto the soft bed.
Light grinned drunkenly. It had been a good day. He looked around him, his few personal affects. There was a portable database that he had constructed a long time ago. There was a picture of him standing next to his two best friends, before they had disappeared without ever telling a soul. And last, a crisp newspaper cutting of the day the Umbral Abductions had occurred. Three names were highlighted, underlined: Chaos, Sanctum, and Light. Above them, a woman's face was burned out.
Ciel.
