Post by Guardsman Patrick on Oct 12, 2006 23:03:59 GMT -5
Chapter 29: “What is thy Bidding, My Master?”
Zanthor stood in the elevator, moving upwards toward the room where his master sat in the shadows. He didn’t want to have to report again, but that was his duty. Just because he now feared his master, didn’t mean he wanted to lose his position as general of the A.O.T. The doors opened and he stepped out, walking into the center of the room again. He didn’t feel anything wrong with the air, so he assumed it was safe to stay.
“What is the problem General?” the shadow seemed content, no longer mad at him.
“Sir, we have confirmation that T3GM, the corporation that we have just fought with, has been approved for more funds, and will begin rebuilding immediately. Our troops are so low in number we can not try to cripple them while they’re down. I am sorry to say it, but there is nothing we can do.” Zanthor was expecting to catch hell from him again. The shadow didn’t speak at all though, but remained quiet.
“Is that all General?” The shadow was not angry. Zanthor didn’t feel the air get heavy or anything.
“Also sir, we have received reports that their victory has become known to almost every citizen on Andorg. Some have even regained hope sir. Some of our corporate partners have pulled away, saying that if we cannot hold our ground against new competition then we are not worth their time.” Zanthor could almost feel the anger pulsating from the darkness.
“Return the signal. Tell them I am sorry they feel that way, and I hope their mind is not made up. I should hope that they do not pull away too quickly, because our troops are gaining in ranks. We will be back on top of things soon enough.” The shadow had no ill tone to its voice. Zanthor couldn’t imagine why his master was so calm about all this. He would usually be extremely angry, and probably send a squad out to kill all the people who had turned on him, but he made no such orders.
“Yes sir, I will get on that immediately.” Zanthor bowed and backed out of the room, entering the elevator again. He didn’t understand any of this. Usually his master would be killing mad, but he did nothing of the sort.
As he stepped out of the elevator again, he saw that Arcane was on the catwalk, overlooking the troops. He seemed to be imitating Zanthor, watching over everyone with an eagle eye, just waiting for his moment to pounce.
“You know, I think it would be different being a General,” Arcane spoke as Zanthor leaned down beside him, leaning against the rail just as Arcane was doing. “You have to make sure every single person that you preside over is in order, following your orders and following them right. If you don’t have them do everything right, you will be blamed, not the person that didn’t follow orders.”
Zanthor just remained quiet. He wasn’t really concerned with those thoughts at all. He was concerned with his master. This wasn’t something that his master usually did, so why the sudden change?
“Arcane, go and signal the organizations that just left. Tell them that our master says that he is sorry that they have lost faith in the A.O.T., and he wishes they would not leave too quickly. He is regaining forces as best as he can, but there is only so much that he can do.” Zanthor continued to look down at the tiny soldiers, taking apart, inspecting and reassembling guns that sat on a table in front of each of them.
Arcane turned his head very slowly over toward Zanthor with a stupefied look on his face. He didn’t know if he had heard right. Normally, if companies ended their partnership with the A.O.T, he would be in a squad, sitting in the back of a tank heading for the headquarters of the organization right then. He would not be standing on a catwalk overlooking his fellow soldiers.
“You heard me elite, go send that signal.” Zanthor was impatient and short-tempered when he was thinking. He didn’t want anyone to crowd his space while he was thinking of reasons why something was happening. Arcane turned and saluted Zanthor, before turning to walk down the catwalk to the communication room of the building. Zanthor just rubbed his hair and continued to look at the tiny soldiers that worked. He then heard a tiny beeping coming from his communicator. He pushed the button on the back and his master’s voice crackled in.
“Zanthor, I would like to see you in my office,” the voice crackled and Zanthor turned to the elevator, walking slowly, in no rush to get there. He hoped it wasn’t a last second order to go and destroy his former corporate partners.
The elevator rushed up the shaft noisily, groaning to a stop once it met the top-most limit of the tower. The doors let off steam as they opened, and Zanthor stepped out, not knowing what to expect of his master now.
“Zanthor, you’re just in time. I was wondering if you had decided not to come,” the shadow seemed happy. Zanthor wondered if his master was having mood swings as a result of all the pressure he was under now.
“Sorry it took me so long, there were some soldiers that were heading to their bunk rooms along the way, and the elevator had to stop for them,” Zanthor lied, knowing he had taken forever because he wanted to prolong the time he had before he had to meet with his master. He didn’t enjoy going to that room much anymore, after the whole nearly dying thing.
“I have been meaning to put that in my plans for the construction- to add more elevators, some just for the troops, and one just for high ranking officials.” These words were most alien to Zanthor. His master had never cared about the soldiers and Zanthor being inconvenienced before, but now it was in his plans.
“I guess that would help some sir, but we are getting side tracked. What business did you call me here for, sir?” Zanthor cut through the small talk and went straight to the brass tacks.
“I wanted to tell you about a new field I have recently found myself very interested in,” he seemed to be dragging this out as long as he could. “It’s quite remarkable really. You see, scientists have now developed a way to restore certain body parts quite easily, and very effectively as well. They have taken it very far as of late. They just recently got into a neurosurgical method that can make mechanical body parts become almost like flesh and bone to a person. They have even developed methods that can heal things as fragile as eyes.”
Zanthor knew that his master was not really concerned with his lack of an eye. He had lost it for his master anyway and it was almost like his mark.
“You would be surprised at how much they can do for anyone, almost anything is replaceable now. I do believe the only thing they have not developed yet in something that replaces the kidneys and liver. They can even reconstruct a damaged brain now, and I know a couple of people who should take full advantage of that technology,” the shadows chuckled slightly.
Zanthor smirked. No matter how reclusive his master was, he could always laugh, no matter the case.
“But I am sidetracking myself once again. My main point is that I have also taken advantage of such technology, and used it to my advantage. I would like to introduce you to someone I am sure you will recognize as soon as you see him. Those scientists that I was speaking of have done a miraculous job, and I congratulate them on the success,” the shadow spoke very quickly and excitedly.
Zanthor looked into the shadows and saw something moving within. He squinted and looked closer, trying to make out the figure that was emerging. Zanthor nearly dropped to his knees when he saw the familiar white hair and headband of Shade appear out of the shadows. He thought that he was dead, but how could that be when he was right in front of him. Something was different. Zanthor looked to Shade’s left arm and saw that it was now a large silver arm, connecting straight into Shades shoulder. It looked almost real, but made of metal and wires. He also observed that is was not complete, as the artificial tendons were visible. But for a prosthetic limb, it was remarkable. In the left hand of the arm was the Dark Blade, shining in the spotlight, a shimmering deep green flame around its razor sharp edge. Zanthor met Shade’s eyes for a moment, before Shade turned around to face the shadows again.
He held out his blade, his silver arm moving silently on its joint. “What is thy bidding, my master?”
Zanthor stood in the elevator, moving upwards toward the room where his master sat in the shadows. He didn’t want to have to report again, but that was his duty. Just because he now feared his master, didn’t mean he wanted to lose his position as general of the A.O.T. The doors opened and he stepped out, walking into the center of the room again. He didn’t feel anything wrong with the air, so he assumed it was safe to stay.
“What is the problem General?” the shadow seemed content, no longer mad at him.
“Sir, we have confirmation that T3GM, the corporation that we have just fought with, has been approved for more funds, and will begin rebuilding immediately. Our troops are so low in number we can not try to cripple them while they’re down. I am sorry to say it, but there is nothing we can do.” Zanthor was expecting to catch hell from him again. The shadow didn’t speak at all though, but remained quiet.
“Is that all General?” The shadow was not angry. Zanthor didn’t feel the air get heavy or anything.
“Also sir, we have received reports that their victory has become known to almost every citizen on Andorg. Some have even regained hope sir. Some of our corporate partners have pulled away, saying that if we cannot hold our ground against new competition then we are not worth their time.” Zanthor could almost feel the anger pulsating from the darkness.
“Return the signal. Tell them I am sorry they feel that way, and I hope their mind is not made up. I should hope that they do not pull away too quickly, because our troops are gaining in ranks. We will be back on top of things soon enough.” The shadow had no ill tone to its voice. Zanthor couldn’t imagine why his master was so calm about all this. He would usually be extremely angry, and probably send a squad out to kill all the people who had turned on him, but he made no such orders.
“Yes sir, I will get on that immediately.” Zanthor bowed and backed out of the room, entering the elevator again. He didn’t understand any of this. Usually his master would be killing mad, but he did nothing of the sort.
As he stepped out of the elevator again, he saw that Arcane was on the catwalk, overlooking the troops. He seemed to be imitating Zanthor, watching over everyone with an eagle eye, just waiting for his moment to pounce.
“You know, I think it would be different being a General,” Arcane spoke as Zanthor leaned down beside him, leaning against the rail just as Arcane was doing. “You have to make sure every single person that you preside over is in order, following your orders and following them right. If you don’t have them do everything right, you will be blamed, not the person that didn’t follow orders.”
Zanthor just remained quiet. He wasn’t really concerned with those thoughts at all. He was concerned with his master. This wasn’t something that his master usually did, so why the sudden change?
“Arcane, go and signal the organizations that just left. Tell them that our master says that he is sorry that they have lost faith in the A.O.T., and he wishes they would not leave too quickly. He is regaining forces as best as he can, but there is only so much that he can do.” Zanthor continued to look down at the tiny soldiers, taking apart, inspecting and reassembling guns that sat on a table in front of each of them.
Arcane turned his head very slowly over toward Zanthor with a stupefied look on his face. He didn’t know if he had heard right. Normally, if companies ended their partnership with the A.O.T, he would be in a squad, sitting in the back of a tank heading for the headquarters of the organization right then. He would not be standing on a catwalk overlooking his fellow soldiers.
“You heard me elite, go send that signal.” Zanthor was impatient and short-tempered when he was thinking. He didn’t want anyone to crowd his space while he was thinking of reasons why something was happening. Arcane turned and saluted Zanthor, before turning to walk down the catwalk to the communication room of the building. Zanthor just rubbed his hair and continued to look at the tiny soldiers that worked. He then heard a tiny beeping coming from his communicator. He pushed the button on the back and his master’s voice crackled in.
“Zanthor, I would like to see you in my office,” the voice crackled and Zanthor turned to the elevator, walking slowly, in no rush to get there. He hoped it wasn’t a last second order to go and destroy his former corporate partners.
The elevator rushed up the shaft noisily, groaning to a stop once it met the top-most limit of the tower. The doors let off steam as they opened, and Zanthor stepped out, not knowing what to expect of his master now.
“Zanthor, you’re just in time. I was wondering if you had decided not to come,” the shadow seemed happy. Zanthor wondered if his master was having mood swings as a result of all the pressure he was under now.
“Sorry it took me so long, there were some soldiers that were heading to their bunk rooms along the way, and the elevator had to stop for them,” Zanthor lied, knowing he had taken forever because he wanted to prolong the time he had before he had to meet with his master. He didn’t enjoy going to that room much anymore, after the whole nearly dying thing.
“I have been meaning to put that in my plans for the construction- to add more elevators, some just for the troops, and one just for high ranking officials.” These words were most alien to Zanthor. His master had never cared about the soldiers and Zanthor being inconvenienced before, but now it was in his plans.
“I guess that would help some sir, but we are getting side tracked. What business did you call me here for, sir?” Zanthor cut through the small talk and went straight to the brass tacks.
“I wanted to tell you about a new field I have recently found myself very interested in,” he seemed to be dragging this out as long as he could. “It’s quite remarkable really. You see, scientists have now developed a way to restore certain body parts quite easily, and very effectively as well. They have taken it very far as of late. They just recently got into a neurosurgical method that can make mechanical body parts become almost like flesh and bone to a person. They have even developed methods that can heal things as fragile as eyes.”
Zanthor knew that his master was not really concerned with his lack of an eye. He had lost it for his master anyway and it was almost like his mark.
“You would be surprised at how much they can do for anyone, almost anything is replaceable now. I do believe the only thing they have not developed yet in something that replaces the kidneys and liver. They can even reconstruct a damaged brain now, and I know a couple of people who should take full advantage of that technology,” the shadows chuckled slightly.
Zanthor smirked. No matter how reclusive his master was, he could always laugh, no matter the case.
“But I am sidetracking myself once again. My main point is that I have also taken advantage of such technology, and used it to my advantage. I would like to introduce you to someone I am sure you will recognize as soon as you see him. Those scientists that I was speaking of have done a miraculous job, and I congratulate them on the success,” the shadow spoke very quickly and excitedly.
Zanthor looked into the shadows and saw something moving within. He squinted and looked closer, trying to make out the figure that was emerging. Zanthor nearly dropped to his knees when he saw the familiar white hair and headband of Shade appear out of the shadows. He thought that he was dead, but how could that be when he was right in front of him. Something was different. Zanthor looked to Shade’s left arm and saw that it was now a large silver arm, connecting straight into Shades shoulder. It looked almost real, but made of metal and wires. He also observed that is was not complete, as the artificial tendons were visible. But for a prosthetic limb, it was remarkable. In the left hand of the arm was the Dark Blade, shining in the spotlight, a shimmering deep green flame around its razor sharp edge. Zanthor met Shade’s eyes for a moment, before Shade turned around to face the shadows again.
He held out his blade, his silver arm moving silently on its joint. “What is thy bidding, my master?”