Interlude 01

The nightmares were always the same.

Alone in the emptiness, abandoned to her fate. Her mind screamed at her to run, but she was paralysed and could not move. Could not escape what was already past. It did not matter how she struggled: the nightmares were always the same, and they carried her inexorably onwards like a lamb to the slaughter. Soon the still surface loomed before her like a pool of ink, and an iron grip forced her under. The water was cold and bitter as it forced its way down her throat, forced its way deeper and deeper inside. She could not breathe. She was drowning, always drowning, but never allowed to die.

A strangled gasp burst from her lips, a tortured, heaving breath as a rush of panic forced her awake. It was only then she realised it was just a nightmare, or something like a nightmare. She felt confused. Disorientated. Sometimes when she first awoke it was difficult to tell what was real and what was false, the overwhelming terror persisting even though the danger had long since passed. Her emotions, her memories and her sensations, none of them fit together properly. Past and present, dreaming and waking, they all bled together until nothing remained but fear.

She closed her eyes again and focused on her heartbeat, forcing it to slow, forcing herself to remember who she was. Who she had become. That time and place was far behind her now, and yet the terror, the nightmares, and the memories had not left her. Perhaps they never would. It had taken her a long time to make peace with that possibility. At first, she had hated how the past would engulf her without warning, had hated that there was no escape from the torment. More than anything, she had loathed the broken ruin they made of her.

He was the one who had taught her differently, and shown her that pain itself could be a source of strength.

She threw back the blanket draped over her so it crumpled to the floor, letting the air flood over the black underwear and naked body beneath. The air here was cold. So cold. She could not see it in the dark but she knew her breath was misting the second it left her mouth. Could feel it wet upon her lips. It was weakness to shiver in the cold, and she refused to submit. Like a child first learning to walk she got to her feet and stumbled into the darkness of the chamber beyond.

The world around her was a simple one. She could sense little through the pitch black gloom that surrounded her. No, she thought as her eyes adjusted to the dark, that was not true. There was a familiar red glow, barely visible beneath the metal grate that served as a floor. The same metal grate that felt so chill beneath her bare feet. After the cold she was most aware of the faint hum of machinery, muffled as though it belonged to some other reality. They were small perceptions, but they were all that remained.

The world around her was a liminal one. Stripped of almost all sensation, a place strung between life and death.

With so little to focus on without, she had no choice but to feel within. To feel the steady rhythm of her pulse beneath her skin, to feel the light breath of her flaming hair as it fell over her shoulders. She could feel it all so clearly. Could feel the strength of her supple body in the dark. Could feel the jagged patterns that had been cut into her skin.

A look of anguish swept over her as she ran a hand from her rib to her hip. There were moments, when she lingered in the space between dreaming and waking, when she could almost convince herself that the scars were only imagined, and that everything had not unfolded the way it did. She steeled herself and let her hand drop. The scars had no hold over her. They were a cruelty writ in flesh, the last memento of another life. They did not not belong to her, but to a foolish girl who had trusted what she was told.

That woman was dead, and from her ashes someone far stronger had been born.

She started as a single electronic note cut through the gloom. It was a familiar signal, a call that demanded her presence, and it could not be ignored.

With a flick of her finger she turned on the lights and quickly began to dress. She decided against wearing her usual combat suit in favour of a simple shirt and pants. She had been summoned, and it was unwise to keep the master of Black Hole waiting. Once she was fully dressed, she left her chamber and made her way through the empty corridors with a purposeful stride. The sound of her footsteps reverberated through the desolate halls as she walked, their echoes the only company to be found. Before long she arrived outside the meeting room and came to a halt, taking a few brief seconds to compose herself before entering.

This chamber too was dark, but that was of no consequence. She knew what was expected of her, and in a few short steps assumed a position near the middle of the room. There was no sign that anyone else was present, but she knew he was close by. He would be secreted away in the shadows, or observing her from some concealed place. Always hidden, always watching. It was his way.

There came a low thud like the beat of a drum, followed by a faint hiss from one of the walls. A groaning noise as metal began to shift over metal, and then the harsh beat of heavy footsteps marching into the chamber from behind. Her lord had arrived, and with his presence a show of respect was expected. She inhaled to steady herself, and knelt down on one knee.

"You have returned," he said, his voice deep and sibilant even through the faint haze of distortion.

She closed her eyes and remained still as the footsteps moved in a noose around her.

"Yes, my lord," she answered. "I have done as you commanded."

His great cloak shifted as he moved, those green eyes glowing like lamps in the night. "Do they suspect?"

"Difficult to say, my lord." It was not a question she could answer with any confidence. "If they do, I saw no sign of it."

"Hmm." The footsteps arrived in front of her and paused. "And what have you learned?"

She hesitated. Uncertain, unsure. Weak.

"And what have you learned?" He asked again, his voice harder this time.

She could not keep her eyes shut and opened them, blinking as she struggled to order her reply. "Our foe is not what I expected," she said. "I was… surprised by what I saw. In more ways than one."

He laughed at that, the sound distorted and cruel. There were times when his mirth was almost as frightening as his displeasure. She knew he would not understand the entirety of her impressions, and did not try to explain them. Some thoughts were best kept secret.

"I would expect nothing less from our young friend," he remarked. "It was my greatest error. To underestimate the very enemy I had singled out. I will not make the same mistake again."

"No, my lord," she agreed.

"This time… this time they will stand alone. And they will fall."

"Green Earth has already come to their aid," she said, her voice neutral.

His helmeted head made a sharp turn in her direction. With a flash his glowing eyes turned red, boring directly into her. His gaze was a promise of fire and fury, but she did not dare look away. Did not dare show such weakness. After an intolerable moment his bearing shifted, and his eyes became green once again.

"Green Earth is filled with worms," he hissed, "weak and wretched. They will collapse beneath the weight of all they try to win, just as they have before. In the end, the enemy will stand alone. Already their other allies desert them. And soon they will suffer, as all who have opposed me will suffer."

He stopped moving, and looked directly at her.

"Do not question this."

She bowed her head and averted her gaze. "Of course not, my lord."

He fell silent for a time, and all she could hear was her heartbeat. It had grown faster again, she realised, and she could not manage to slow it. A flicker of despair ran through her. She had not always been this easily shaken.

"Rise," he said at last.

She did as she was bidden, her body unfurling before him. Her arms fell limp by her side as she looked up into those artificial green eyes.

"You…" There was a hiss as he exhaled. "You, Flare, are my greatest weapon. You are the one who shall bring fear and ruin to my foes."

She did not immediately respond.

"How shall we proceed regarding Green Earth?" She asked at last, her face marked by a look of slight concern.

He considered that for a moment, watching her from behind the high collar of his cloak. "See to it that their ability to fight alongside Orange Star is crushed. The task is at your discretion. In the meantime, I must attend to… other matters."

She gave a respectful nod. "It will be done."

Silence fell between them, and she did not venture to break it. After a time he reached out towards her, cupping her cheek in his hand. He lifted her head a little, and she could feel the intensity of his gaze as he studied her. Neither said a word. The silence between them was as cold as the surface of his metal clad fingers. Colder than the floor beneath her feet when first she awoke, colder than her nightmares. Colder than death itself.

After an agonising wait, his chill touch withdrew.

"Do not fail me," he said.

"Never, my lord."

It was the answer that was expected of her, and she did not even begin to consider any other. Any private, secret doubt that it was a promise she might be unable to keep, she kept well hidden.

There came a faint, acrid smell as smoke began to waft from his mask. It was a familiar odour, one she had come to recognise as a sign her lord was pleased. Their conversation was finished. Without another word he was gone, withdrawing back into the shadows, and she was alone once again.

Gradually, she began to relax. He had given her everything, and yet there were times when she was unsettled by his power, times when her faith was shaken. She let out a breath she had not known she was holding, and closed her eyes. It was a foolish feeling, born of a fear lingering from another life, and it meant nothing. Flare had no desire to defy him, and even if she had wished to, it would have been futile. She knew that better than anyone. She alone had glimpsed the extent of his plans, and witnessed how far he would go to overcome a defeat. In that they were not so different.

As Flare left the meeting room to prepare for the task ahead, she felt only a cold certainty about what was to come. It did not matter how determined or how powerful the enemy was.

He always won in the end.