Jace flexed the fingers of his bandaged hand as he shut the door behind him. Ahead of him, beyond the iron railings, drops of water lightly tapped the ground.
Jace gazed at the dripping liquid, leaning forward a bit to hear. The sound was low yet persistent. The sound accompanied Jace as he drew back and walked down the stairs.
The receptionist was once again nowhere to be found and added to the list of disappearing things was the desk she had used. Jace offered it a simple glance then paid it no mind. He stopped at the door of the building, gazing at the falling drops. Then he stepped out.
Jace heard a drop fall on him before he felt it. The water was cool, cascading down his hair, travelling across his face and flowing into his shirt.
Rain.
He had heard about it but hearing was different from feeling and it felt… disappointing. It was just water pouring from the sky.
Grunting, Jace walked over to the washed out building almost as tall as the hall next to it, the Library. His goal was simple: find any evidence of the mysterious Vicea Family.
While both buildings were a lifeless gray, the hall was one by choice. The library, though, was washed out, a few parts struggling to retain its once vibrant hue.
A giant 'L' hung over the glass doors that slid open as Jace walked in. Iron brass doors stood metres in front of him, a desk standing between them.
A figure sat at the desk, her features so pale she could have blended into the wall. She looked fairly similar to a figure from days ago–The Receptionist.
"Your ID?" She demanded, her tone clipped and short. Jace handed her his card as she nodded, sparing a glance to take a short look.
"You may pass."
The iron doors swung open as she spoke, uncovering the library. The interior was a stark difference from its exterior, the room pulsing with the silent hum of technology.
At one end computers stood atop tables, holograms interspersed among the screens. And at the other end lay a maze of shelves. Separating the two sides was a stairwell, a sign reading 'Only Administrators allowed' locked into place just metres after the starting step.
Turning to his right, Jace dove into the maze. Minutes later, he could feel a headache on the horizon.
The maze was structured like an inescapable prison, each road leading to nothing but dead ends. Add on to that the fact that there were only simple tags for any of the books and Jace could feel frustration bubbling in him.
A thought dropped into Jace's mind, washing his previous frustration away. Whispering into his cyberlink, Jace demanded. "Find any books that have any mention of the word 'Vicea'."
The cyberlink loaded for an unusually long time before making a little ping. Two results. One of those books was, and this should have been fairly obvious to Jace, a history book. The other, a fantasy.
The history genre was quick to be found, mostly due to its popularity. The book in question had a fairly unappealing cover and was tucked between two larger ones.
The fantasy book was a lot harder to find. Fantasy was a genre that had found itself declining in recent years. There was something rather unappealing, reading about someone who could punch mountains when you could float in the air or reading about ancient alien civilizations when if you dug hard enough, you could find one in your backyard.
Tracing the shelves, Jace scanned around for the tag. His eyes remained fixed onto the shelves, his focus so great that he bumped into someone.
'Are you okay?" Jace began as he rubbed his hurting nose. He moved his attention from his burning nose to the silver haired figure crouching down.
Books lay strewn on the floor, the history book that was once in Jace's hand joining amidst them. Jace sighed, bending down to pick it up. He picked the grayed book just as his eyes caught another book, one belonging to the other person.
It was a fantasy book.
The person rose, hair tumbling back down her shoulders as Jace pushed himself up, calling out. "Hey,"
"Uhm?" She hummed as she turned.
"You–Your book?" Jace struggled out as her eyes lingered on him. Her gaze was unnerving, as if seeing something Jace could never hope to glance at. With her white dress, the golden brooch on her chest and her sun-darkened skin, she could pass for an angel. A very scary angel. "Where did you find it?"
She paused at the question, brushing away a stray hair that dangled across her face. Turning back, she pointed as she spoke "Just go left."
"Thanks," Jace muttered. Her lips curled up into a smile before her expression paused. With a weak smile that seemed more forced than anything, she muttered simply, "You're welcome."
Obeying her instructions, it didn't take long for Jace to find the fantasy section.The book in question stood a lone shelf. Jace grabbed the book, checking out the front cover. The book's front depicted a figure on a mountain, a gigantic golden figure wrapped in bonds of blood slowly rising before the lone figure.
It was a cover that conceptually, seemed like a great idea. But execution was always different and the cover represented it perfectly. Colors clashed against one another, too many objects seemed to attract attention and the numerous mistakes clearly identified the art as being Ai.
Sighing, Jace picked the book, flipping it about to read through the synopsis. Similar to the cover, the synopsis read like ai, promising everything and nothing.
Jace sighed, pulling it close as he searched for where he could sit. Walking through the maze, Jace searched for a clearing. After a few more turns and almost bumping into someone else, Jace found the clearing.
It was a wide space covered by four shelves acting as walls. Two tables populated the center, one of them already taken by the white haired girl from earlier.
"Hey," Jace greeted as he slipped into the other table. Continuing on, he spoke, "I'm Jace."
No response came, not even a mere glance . Sighing, Jace picked up the history book just as he heard a soft voice "I'm Hazel,"
Jace glanced back up seeing her gaze still transfixed to her book. Smiling, Jace picked up the history book and hummed a familiar tune.
The history book contained research about the Earth before the Invasion and the major families. The book outlined the various wealthy families before the war, one of them being the Vicea Family.
According to the book, most families hadn't considered the war a large enough investment and so were swept away when the war lasted longer than originally estimated. The Vicea Family was one of those.
Most of that information, though, was undoubtedly a lie. The book leaned heavily into speculation, choosing to create stories without any evidence. The only true thing about the Vicea Family was that they were powerful before the war.
Dropping the book, Jace looked around to see Hazel gone. After a short stretch, Jace picked the fantasy book. Just minutes later, Jace regretted that choice.
The book, titled 'Stolen Fate' outlined the tale of a young boy ascending to become a god slayer. It was shoddily done, had a series of plot holes and had very forgettable characters. Even worse, the Vicea were depicted as one-note arrogant families.
Infuriated, Jace proceeded to type up one of the worst reviews he had ever given a work.
Leaving the library, Jace stretched. The rain was gone yet the sky was still covered by the dark clouds. Wind flowed around, pushing everything in its path. And with that wind came a voice. It was a yell. And a cry for help.
Tracing the sound, Jace arrived at the side of the library where he could see the back clearly. And in the back were students, four of them.
One of them lay on the ground, groaning as he was hit again and again. The aggressor, a young man with a heavy build, hovered over his target.
He bent, speaking to the fallen student calmly "Your tokens? Give me them and you get my personal protection. Good deal, isn't it"
The student on the ground pleaded, trying to rise back up "I can only pay you 200. Any more than that and I'm–"
His words were cut short as the aggressor stood, placing his foot on the student's head and pressing it back down.
"500. Can you believe it, Wilbur? 500. They must think I'm cheap" The aggressor joked to the two people by his side.
One, who Jace identified as Wilbur, snorted as he crossed his arms. He seemed more incensed that the aggressor had spoken to him than at the student's offer.
The other, a scrawny boy with brown hair, trembled, shifting closer to Wilbur. Jace watched blankly.
Finally, with a short sigh, he turned and left. It wasn't his business. Life wasn't fair. The weak would either learn to band together and survive, or the Academy would catch wind of the bullying.
Either way. The best thing for Jace was to stay as far away from the incident as possible.
As Jace reached his dorm door and unlocked it, something dropped into his mind. An idea, a thought so absurd that Jace couldn't help but laugh.
Yet as Jace closed his door, he couldn't help but think about it. Maybe he too was becoming like the Military. No. He was doing exactly as they had said. He was adapting.
* *
Smoke wafted around the room, pungent so that Kem could feel her lungs burn. She coughed, attempting to grab the source's attention but he barely spared her a glance.
It was infuriating. On another day, he would be forced to bear her subservience. But that was part of the deal her father had struck. For a second, Kem let her mind wander back to Atlantis, back to the war.
"Anything on your mind?" The gruff voice shook her out of the daydreams. Confused by his sudden words, she answered "No sir. Why do you think that sir?"
The man took a long puff, his uniformed chest rising. He exhaled as he motioned to the empty notebook lying on the center table.
Kem nodded, grabbing the notebook and focusing back on the screen. In the corner of her eye, she noticed a wink from Bailey but kept her eyes focused on the screen. It was a video of an boy. Young. No. He just looked young on video. Everyone looked young on a screen.
He was maybe the same age as her, a inch or two on her. His 'questioning', as it was so rightly called, was a barrage of questions in little to no time.
And Kem's job–to dissect every tick, every reaction, every movement done by the subject. How many had it been? How many videos, subjects? Kem couldn't count but she was fairly confident it was over thirty.
The questioning followed the same pattern every time. Every participant said the same thing, each thinking they had stated something original. Sadly, the same was true for their current subject.
In the last question, he switched gears, prattling on about some self-sacrifial sermon. It was disappointing. She had expected better.
The video ended as Ken turned back to the smoking man. The General exhaled deeply, shifting in his seat as he asked. "Thoughts?"
"He's smart," The combat instructor leaned forward as he spoke, his amethyst eyes still on the screen. His weapon still clung behind his back. Ken found it a wonder how his back didn't hurt considering he had been resting on it for hours.
"He's also stupid," Bailey cut into, crossing her legs as she twirled a strand that had fallen over her face. "A bit handsome, unfortunately stupid."
"He's heroic," Kem argued, feeling she had to do something. "He has his ideals and he sticks to them."
"Ideals are nothing," Sir Chevalier shut down, the brooch symbolizing his 'knighthood' glistening. "Heroics don't win wars."
Kem almost laughed at the absurdity of the 'knight' speaking poorly about ideals. She opened her mouth to retort just as the General spoke "Skye. He's yours. What do you think?"
Kem paused, looking at the corner of the room where Skye stood. Her hair, not long enough to cover the scar running through her face, moved as she stood. Kem cursed Skye for not using the remover. It wouldn't erase everything but it would at least cover up most of the scar. Make her face pleasant to look at.
Skye spoke calmly and slowly, "He's too heroic, that's a fact," The urge to retort came over Kem just as Skye continued "But his intelligence. So far he seems worth it. I would say watch him, see if his intelligence is large enough to overshadow his flaws."
"I see," The General muttered. He grabbed a file from the stack beside it, the name on it 'Jace Blank'. He uncocked a pen, scribbling on the file in his most formal writing 'Analysis: Pending'