Now resuming The Apoptosis Project...
Rain leapt off the broad wings of the Ray-Class airship as it lowered to rest on the platform. Headmaster Skye stepped onto the ramp that extended before him, taking a second to admire the view of the city from a thousand feet up before continuing forward into the glass wall that slid apart to invite him in.
The silver staircase up to Griswold Baine's office was a crescent moon in the dark, lit only by guiding strips on the floor, and the liquid blacklight that coursed through white pillars like blood through veins. Headmaster Skye ascended the steps with a measured, triple-time cadence. Cane first. Left foot, right foot. Cane first. Left foot, right foot.
The lights in the office above, at the apex of Empyrean Tower, were nearly blinding. Rain streaked down the fully windowed wall, obscuring the panorama of sea and city. The pillars from below continued through the floor and into the high arched roof. Between them, faceless, featureless white giants laid about in the air, posing like a trio of weightless marble statues.
An android stood at each side of Griswold Baine's meeting table.
"Headmaster," the host acknowledged.
"Griswold."
"Can I get you anything? Coffee?" Griswold offered. A grin reached his lips. "Though I heard you're particular. Maybe a drink would be more to your taste?"
The Headmaster replied with a slight chuckle. "I'll take the coffee, whatever you have. I'm working."
"Very well." With a halfhearted wave from its master, an android left to retrieve the Headmaster's order. "How's the test unit? Snow, you named it?"
"The BCS resynch was a success. Still herself. And as far as we know, all her memories are intact. She'll be cleared for combat soon."
"Good," Griswold responded with a single nod. "But, as you know, replacement bodies aren't cheap. And as I'm sure you can imagine, replicating an entire body through a cluster of stem cells isn't easy."
"I know. I've already paid in full on my end, plus a bonus for the rush." He looked up to the android that placed a steaming mug in front of him. "Thank you."
Griswold watched the movement. With a hand on his chin, his look hardened. "Now, why I asked you here. How much manpower can you spare for the first?"
The Headmaster pursed his lips, and a puff of air escaped them. "It will be difficult. Huntsman licensing laws haven't been touched in almost thirty years. I pushed for a change after the first attack last year, but you know government. I can offer the professionals, and my kids teams, but that's all I can guarantee."
"That's all? A school full of huntsmen in training, and you're sparing two teams? This is the beginning of Frontline's Third Generation; the next phase of humanity. I want this to go off without a single hitch."
The Headmaster sighed, with an open hand indicating his lack of authority. "I'd grant them emergency licenses if I could, but even that's out of my control. A student gets killed, or makes a mistake and hurts someone, we'd have enough lawsuits to run even us under. And what about your androids? Or Team MDLN?"
"MDLN is on standby. And my androids have numbers, but I admit there's something about huntsman weaponry that gets the job done." He leaned in. "I saw you come in, still using that cane. Provide more security and I can take a look at your back, maybe give you another spinal link, free of charge."
The Headmaster shook his head soberly. "I appreciate the generosity, but I'm not going to endanger any more children than necessary. I'll brief the teams I plan to bring as soon as I can."
"Hmm." Griswold's eyes pierced the Headmaster's, and the two sat in strained silence. The only noise in the office was the deep beat of the giant, minimalist clock etched on the pillar behind the two. "Out of curiosity, where did you get the tip from, again?"
"A student relayed it to me."
"A student with inside knowledge of the Red Claw. Interesting."
"I have no reason to believe they have any ties to the Red Claw."
"I see. And one more question."
"Go ahead."
"Now your kids know Snow is an android, the experiment should be over. Why bother wasting all that time and effort on a replacement?"
"...They seem to have grown fond of her."
The scrutiny under Griswold's dark eyes resumed. The clock once again was the only noise in the sumptuous office until he broke into a bout of disarming laughter. "Ah, youth." He put his hands up. "Well, you remember our deal. Having an android around will make it a lot easier on both of us."
"Yes. It will."
Lazula wondered just what it was about Port Cyrreine that made every architect try their damndest to outdo the last. Nautilus Stadium, used for every sport besides the PHL, was a conch shell of admittedly magnificent proportion, its cream blue ridges opening to the sky. The curves continued inside, moving platforms and terraced balconies providing a path among them for all those who had come to watch the birth of Frontline's Third Generation.
As was custom under a lurking threat, the Headmaster stood alone to face teams CRLN and LSLI. Snow still hadn't been cleared from the hospital, and Caspian's team was down Noxis. Lazula hoped Moka alone would be enough to make up for the two of them.
"I'll start by thanking you all for responding to my call." He settled on Team CRLN with lowering brows. "And, asking where your fourth teammate is."
"Don't know," Rowan responded with a shrug.
"We tried calling him..." Caspian added.
"He just goes ghost on us sometimes. He's probably at his job or something."
"He's got some timing," Laurel commented. "First the Vytal Tournament, now this."
Caspian noticed Moka's lip bite, and tail flick.
"I see." Headmaster Skye adjusted his glasses. "Well then, Ms. Chino, thank you for volunteering again."
"No problem!"
"But, I do have to warn you all. You aren't here out of abundance of caution. We have every reason to expect an attack today. From the beginning of Griswold's presentation, I need you all to be ready at a seconds' notice. Do you understand?"
Caspian swallowed the knot in his throat and wrung out his fist. Lazula looked onward, her thumb stroking the hilt of her blade. And the group rang out in their affirmation.
"Good. Androids are already defending the South gate, but the Stadium is open from each side. CRLN take West, and LSLI take East. Ms. Chino. You will substitute for Snow on Team LSLI."
Got it!"
"Caspian's team needs more help, right?" Lazula suggested. "Moka should go with them."
"The Red Claw's stronghold is somewhere in the Eastern Docks district. We expect the bulk of the attack to come from that direction."
"Right... that's not that far away from here, is it?" Moka commented, peering out the domed window toward the city's shadow.
"Right. I've sent Ms. Kurayami to scout that direction. If she sees anything out of the ordinary, I'll hear it, and relay it to you." The lines on the Headmaster's face softened. "For the time being, though, I'm allowing you to watch. Since you'll likely be working closely with these androids in the future, it's important you know everything there is to know about them."
Maybe it wasn't just the architects that were full of themselves, Lazula figured. An entire stadium rented out, the looming threat of a massive attack hidden to all but a select few. Just for a speech and a chance to parade around the new generation of androids.
"The rain won't let up."
"Who are those three? What are they doing here?"
The voices were back. That couldn't be good.
Caspian's eyes swept across the sea of heads filling out the half of Nautilus Field opposite the stage. They filled only a fraction of the stadium, packed into the first tier of one quadrant. Still too many people. More than enough to draw a horde of Grimm should something go wrong.
Nescient cheer signalled Griswold Baine's arrival onstage. He lumbered across with a hand raised high and a painted grin, working the crowd before coming to his podium. He rested a hand on each side. The beautiful young women to each side of him in android uniform looked like toy dolls in comparison.
"You hear he's set to become the city's first trillionaire a week into launch?" Rowan commented. "That's insane! Imagine having that much money!"
"Trillionaire?" Moka repeated. She hunched forward, scrunching up her nose as if the seat in front of her was filled high with a pile of soiled clothing. "No one needs that much money."
Caspian could only reply with a stifled chuckle, remembering when the Schnee Dust Company owned by his aunt in Atlas passed that mark in his childhood.
"First, of course, I must thank you all for coming today. We find ourselves in uncertain times, the likes of which some of you haven't known since childhood. And I'm sure others were never before alive to see, never meant to see. But I can guarantee I am here to protect you. Androids of every generation possess combat capability equal to a trained huntsman, and learn from every encounter." He put his arms out to each side. "If you see these uniforms, you see safety."
He once again waited for the cheer to subside.
"These androids were first and foremost designed with humanity in mind. Though the First Generation was created exclusively for defense, and the Second Generation primarily finds use in business and industry, the Third Generation is for the home. Advances in simulated emotion and cognition make this model perfect for geriatric and childcare. This goes hand in hand with the advanced machine learning we've all worked long hours to develop and implement, which makes them perfect for busy families. Show them a recipe, they'll cook dinner. Show them your shopping list, they'll come home with groceries. The possibilities are endless. Anything you can't fit into your busy schedule, they will do for you, free of charge."
"Kind of like having a butler," Rowan noted.
"Or a slave," Moka contested.
"They're just computers," Ichigo replied. "Well, most of them are."
"But these androids have one more practical use. Long have we at Frontline battled disease with the cutting edge of technology. Cancers, heart disease, diabetes. But one more has been overlooked. One so simple, but so deadly; loneliness. Though for ethical reasons of course, it's all simulated, the emotional range of these androids is unlike anything ever before created, matching only humanity itself."
Every time it felt as if the speech ended Caspian's breath hitched. His tongue felt dry, though he couldn't stop salivating. A cold sweat soaked into his combat outfit. If something did happen, his legs didn't feel near strong enough to support the rock in his stomach. And he had to run to the bathroom again. Bad place to be when a Grimm attack starts, though.
"In just a few minutes, I'll be done speaking and the most exciting part of our evening will begin. Near the East gate, we've set up a stand where the luckiest customers can take home their Third Generation model, today! Now, I know price is a barrier to many. After speaking with my advisors and crunching the numbers, I've elected to decrease the price of the Third Generation. Though Second Gen units retailed at five thousand lien at launch, Third Generation units will be only fifteen hundred, with flexible payment options available!"
The crowd was deafening.
"My dearest promise is for the Third Generation to bring us ever closer to a world without suffering. And I am willing to sacrifice to deliver this promise to as many customers as possible."
In the ensuing applause, Caspian held his breath, and felt his heart pounding in his ears. Expect an attack, the Headmaster had advised. So far, nothing out of the ordinary. Not even a word from the scouts. But now, with Griswold Baine's speech ending, the Red Claw was running out of time to launch its inevitable assault.
He recalled the calming exercises he read in the book he bought just after the last Grimm attack, on managing stress. Deep breath in. Hold it. Deep breath out. Hold it. Repeat. Sure, it worked for a tough day on the job, or the minutes before an exam. But Caspian had a feeling the author didn't have an impending attack by monstrosities the world had almost forgotten about in mind.
Only as the applause subsided did Caspian notice his painful, white-knuckle grip on Undertow's hilt.
Griswold Baine clapped his hands together. "Now, you'll see uniforms like the ones next to me dispersed among the crowd. Try talking to the ones wearing them. I'm certain you'll find it much like making smalltalk with a stranger at the bus stop, or in line for coffee. Maybe even better. And after the event near the East gate, we'll be taking the first orders for the Third Generation. You can stop by and pick out your model tonight!"
Caspian spotted an android in the row beneath him. The woman next to him, in a neatly pressed white coat that matched her hair, turned with an awestruck look.
"Hello," she greeted with a stammer. Even Caspian felt her nerves were out of place. "Have you met Griswold Baine?"
The android opened his mouth to reply, but produced nothing more than a raspy, throaty noise that made Caspian's skin crawl, and made the woman back off a foot. Its jaw clamped shut until its lab-grown muscles bulged at each side of its chin. It stared the woman down with bulging eyes and dilated pupils before all tension was lost in an instant, and it crumpled to the ground.
"H-Hey, what-" the woman stumbled, joining the confusion mounting as each android in the stadium- even those still onstage- dropped limp.
All the lights turned on at once, illuminating the beginnings of chaos.
Lazula was first to stand with a hand on her blade, even before Headmaster Skye's image forced itself out of everyone's Holoband.
"Everyone, to your places. NOW. Meet the Grimm outside the East and West gates. Do NOT let them into the stadium."
A robotic voice was next to speak. Its last few words were lost to the rising commotion. "Incoming Grimm attack. Threat level: seven."
"Let's go!" Lazula shouted, halfway to the exit before most of her team managed to stand.
"G-Grimm? But my mom was supposed to alert us..." Ichigo stammered.
"They appeared behind her. She's alright. Now go."
"...Which means the one controlling them is close," Caspian figured. He thanked Lilly internally for her semblance. Without it, he doubted even that thought could come to mind.
All seven made their way down the few steps and around the corner, onto the main promenade. As he ushered his team to the West side of the stadium. Caspian could already see black shapes moving in the streets below, and winged beasts filling the sky; too many to count.
It felt again like the Vytal Tournament.
The screams from behind Lazula began to muffle, clearer was the cold voice that warned them away. "Automatic door, keep clear. Automatic door, keep clear."
She turned back and could see behind the handful that followed her out the heavy steel door that began to slide shut, all the lights in the stadium killed. Hands and arms squeezed through in a desperate attempt to pry it open, to buy half a second. But to no avail. She could do little but watch as the most obstinate few, a hand and an arm, seized up before falling to the ground and painting the steel red.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Are we all gonna-"
Moka sprinted to the door, finding space in the middle for her fingers. Arms, chest, and back lit with aura in an attempt to pry it back open, but after several seconds her hands slipped on the blood and she settled for a frustrated jab that hurt herself more than the door.
"Let's keep going," Lazula decided, shaking herself free of the voices. "If the Grimm are outside, they're hopefully safer in there."
She saw movement in her peripheral. She looked to the dimming grey sky and saw among the countless beating black wings an airship painted with the colors of Frontline Biomedical. It hovered for a spare second before becoming a streak of light toward the sea. Stuck on the ground, she drew her blade.
Black wings swirled above, converging on the open shell of Nautilus Stadium like a hurricane. Nevermores and Griffons picking off ones who ran, snapping necks with their beaks and dropping their prey back into the mass to breed further despair. Then came the lion-maned Anzuraze, swooping over the crowds and bathing them in their breath of napalm.
In the control booth, a pair of headphones sat next to a man hunched at his workspace. Blood seeped down the window in front of him, gurgling in the microphone. His partner lay nearby, facing the door behind the two in a growing puddle of crimson.
Three men took their place. One with silver hair and stubble leading into a beaked gas mask, the arms of a squid reaching out from his grey trenchcoat to assist his gloved hands at the blood-coated keys. One tall and broad-chested with a set of heavy black wings folded at his back. His outfit was more prim and refined than the leather jackets and thrashed jeans of his underlings, opting instead for an all-black naval jacket that came to a high chimney collar. His coarse black hair fell down each side of his pale, narrow face to his shoulders. None of the orange light that danced on the ridges of his beaked mask escaped the pitch black of his eyes.
Then Noxis. With a stiff lip, and eyes held wide at the parade of death and flame below him.
"Do you want to know what intrigues me about death, Wolf?" the winged man asked. His frigid voice echoed off the inner wall of his mask. Monotonous, yet intent. He didn't wait long for an answer. "In a man's final moments, no matter who this world has told him to become, he loses all sense of civility. Watch as they try to avert their end. Words fail them. Their eyes are wide with the shock of their final moments. They drag others down, hold them to flame to shield themselves. This is the true essence of humanity. The subconscious animal we refuse the world sees."
An infant's wails were the last noise in the stadium, until they too fell silent. Noxis didn't let his gaze off the glass, even as the winged man turned fully to him.
"What's this, Wolf? Not doubting our cause now, are you?"
Noxis swallowed, finally looking his direction. "No, Condor. Of course not."
Condor nodded slowly, his wings shuffling for a second before coming to rest again. "Good. These are the ones who refuse the truth of this world. Turning instead to Griswold Baine like some kind of God. This is their retribution."