by Ryan Tang
A writhing set of deep blue tentacles, so dark they were almost black, surged out of the Spire floor. They were wrapped tightly around Stock, who was gibbering and screaming like a madman.
He'd been torn out of his machine and tied down to the floor.
The Scholars screamed.
"Boss! Boss!"
Munch turned towards her, sheer panic all over his face.
"What did you do to the boss?"
The Southern Robotics employees in their stiff white uniforms were still working as if nothing had happened.
They removed books from the shelves, stuffing them haphazardly in brown boxes. They replaced them with new books, sleek black ones with photographs of Stock on the cover. Others placed pillars all over the Spire and affixed Eternium busts of Stock's face on top of them.
She felt a sudden dampness at her feet.
The librarian leaped back in disgust.
There was a deep pool of blood right outside her pod. It soaked into the Eternium floor, creating a messy red stain. That must have been where the burnt red had gone.
Her eyes took everything in, but her brain had no idea what to make of what was happening.
It all felt like a dream.
The Eternium danced back and forth in her hands.
Sometimes in her dreams, she knew all the rules.
She had dreams like that before. Ones where she could swim through the skies, flying through the air with each stroke. Ones where she was wandering on a strange foreign colony, but she instinctively knew where everything was.
She glanced at a tendril. It waved back at her with a friendly little flicker.
She was in a dream where the Eternium of the Spire obeyed her every command.
"Shoot her! Shoot her! Someone get a gun and shoot her! Why? Why is this happening!"
What?
Shoot her?
Stock's eyes were bulging out of his face. Hate and fear mixed all together beneath his square-framed brow.
He roared and begged.
"Scholars! Capture her! You have guns! Capture her! She cheated! Everyone saw what happened! She cheated! Shoot her! We'll just say it was espionage! Shoot her!"
Alex stared at him.
"Get her! Bring her in! We need her! A month of sun-fees for whoever captures her!"
It was like a chain around her mind had suddenly unraveled. It was like taking one more step forward and then falling into a pool of water. It was perhaps just another piece of dream logic, but it was also something she should have known all along.
Stock was a monster.
He was worse than a monster.
He wanted to be a Mad Noble.
He wanted to be a god.
He'd as good as said so when they were fighting.
He got his hair cut like one. He was decorating the Spire like one.
The Eternium was stained with blood.
And he never had any intention of ever letting her go.
No matter what happened - win or lose - he would have had the Scholars capture her.
They all had guns. He'd sent her friends away and filled the building with his people.
He never would've given back the Spire. He was already decorating it in anticipation of keeping it.
Bret fumbled at his pants and yanked a gun out of his pocket.
Alex reacted on instinct, just like she was still in the simulator pod.
It had always been this way, whenever there was a fight. The fear vanished from her mind like the debris left after pouring water through a sieve. All that was left was crystal clear thought.
Forward.
Forward.
The thought sprung to her mind, and as soon as she thought it, she knew what would happen.
There was a blue streak of light, and the air sang as a blue tendril of Eternium snatched Bret's shot clean out of mid-air.
She swung her fist.
A thick tentacle emerged from the wall, knocking Bret's gun to the floor, which then roiled like a wave and swallowed the weapon for good. A third strand of the holy metal swept Bret's knees. He fell to the ground.
The other Scholars yelped in terror.
They broke and ran.
Stock wailed and screamed.
"Get her! Thralls! Thralls! Pay attention! Stop working and get her!"
There was a deafening clatter. As one, the men and women Stock called thralls sprinted towards her with lightning speed. Their faces were still and dead. Their hands were outstretched, their fingers stiffened into talons.
Alex recognized some of them.
She saw Alice's dad, surging towards her with a black pillar raised high above his head.
She saw Rebecca, who managed the cafe near the Spire, the one that'd been destroyed during the quakes. She was charging forwards with a bust of Stock's head angled like a club.
The librarian struck the shelf behind her. The metal went from black to blue and swept forwards like a tidal wave. The blue Eternium engulfed her at once, sealing her away behind a protective wall.
The holy metal sang as the countless brainwashed men and women slammed violently against it. It continued to ring over and over again, but there was nothing they could do. New layers rippled and formed, fortifying her shield three times over for every dent they made.
The book-corridors parted, creating new passageways for her to flee through.
Stock screamed.
"Rematch! When I become a god I'll kill you! Attitude! Attitude! You'll regret the day you showed me an attitude!"
CHAPTER 25: THE HANDS PARAGON, PART 2
His father was dead.
His corpse flashed down from the sky. Ten scars ran down his face. His neck had been kicked so hard his head was permanently bent to the side.
Gloating letters accompanied the grisly sight.
"CORPORATE SPY KILLED TRYING TO ESCAPE."
Jared's last words to him had been some sort of half-assed apology. They hadn't even been verbal. It'd been a tablet message.
"Sorry. I can't do this."
Those were the last words he ever said to his father.
The first thing he did when he saw his father's pictures was rush home, but their house - the tall mansion with the sleek white walls and stupid rounded doors that he hated so much - was already a vandalized and devastated ruin.
TRAITOR
CROOK
KILLER
The words were painted in bright red all over the torn ruins. The windows were shattered. One of the walls looked like a Paragon had driven straight through.
And his mom had gone missing.
Jared had run through empty room after empty room, his panic building until he finally realized the truth and returned to the seat of his machine.
He couldn't even remember the last words he said to his mom.
She was dead too. Jared wanted to pretend she was just missing, but his heart knew the truth.
Southern Robotics would kill everyone who'd received the pictures.
His parents were dead, and if he stayed in his home, they'd find a way to kill him too.
He'd spent the last three days hiding out in the ruins of Block 8. He didn't build homes anymore. His Paragon - the Peacetime model, the Hands Paragon, the machine he and his father had built together - was just a shell for him to hide in. It was just another piece of debris in the ruins of the colony.
Jared's heart was rotted in his chest, turning grayer and deader with every new word from the lying sky.
"Guilty! Guilty! Guilty!"
Bret giggled happily.
Anders nodded wisely.
"Sons often emulate their fathers. I might have believed in the Hands Paragon before, but now we know his father was a criminal. The Hands Paragon must submit himself to a fair and impartial investigation. The fact that he isn't willing to turn himself in is proof of his guilt! What does he have to hide?"
Munch barged into the conversation.
"Don't forget! Captain Ray had to deal with people like this too!
People who wanted to seize personal power instead of uniting. The Hands Paragon is trying to form a splinter group of criminals and thugs. Just look at what he was doing before his father's crimes were discovered! He was rallying the rabble! He must be crushed if humanity has any chance of surviving. Another quake could happen any minute! For all we know, the Hands Paragon is the one who caused the quakes in the first place!"
"Yes! Yes! How devious! A father and son criminal team! He causes the quakes, creating a problem his son can solve. Then the father tries to pin it on the great and innocent Southern Robotics!"
His parents were dead.
They'd been killed by the company they loyally served for decades.
And now their son was failing them.
Jared ignored the words blaring from above. He typed at the feverishly at the tablet, registering a new account on the Forums. His fingers danced faster and faster as the Council's lies seared his ears.
He'd been typing at the tablet for so long it felt like it was going to break.
Parts of it had already broken.
There were cracks on the screen from when his fingers smacked it too hard. He'd accidentally torn off one of the corners in frustration.
But he had to keep trying.
Someone had to see what was going on.
Someone had to see the truth his father died for.
The photographs and materials were undeniably damning.
The black shards of Eternium on their shovels. The burnt red shards they clutched in their hands.
The horrible condition of every single worker and the distant inhuman stares in their eyes, the kind of stares that no regular person should ever have.
The film of them moving was the eeriest of al.
The workers all marching together, their steps all landing at the exact same time.
Anyone who saw it would realize the truth.
But nobody had responded.
None of his friends at Southern Robotics.
Not Alex.
Not even his acquaintances, people like Emile. Nobody had said a single word.
For all he knew, they were brainwashed too.
There were thousands of people in the pictures his father sent. Every person he recognized was another dagger in his heart.
And the Forum moderators were deleting everything he wrote. Stock must have bought them off.
He sobbed as he pasted out yet another message.
"Plenty's earthquakes are being caused by Southern Robotics. The company has been mining the colony's core for Eternium. The metal is being used to construct Paragons – the company's claim that it recreated Eternium is a lie. The horrible conditions and bizarre demeanor of the workers also suggest something more sinister is happening. It seems like they've been brainwashed."
He had to get those videos out.
The message wasn't just to Plenty but to the other colonies as well. He was sure Southern Robotics would try something like this again.
But so far, everything he posted publically had been removed within moments. His accounts were getting endlessly banned. It took him longer to create a new account than it did to upload the proof of Stock's crimes.
But he fought on and on. He fought for the small bits of truth that trickled through.
Sometimes his message stayed on for a few seconds, just long enough for someone to see it. His heart soared whenever he saw someone else amplify his message – sometimes they even directly copied his note – but before long, their posts and accounts were removed as well.
His message vanished for the umpteenth time.
"Sorry. This violates our terms of service. We do not allow baseless allegations to stay on the Forums."
He was trying to fill a sieve.
"Have you seen those photos going around? They're absurd, not even worth showing. But if you do see them, know that they've been tampered with!"
Jared jerked up at the sky.
This was the first time they'd mentioned the photos.
The Council of Scholars still sat on their strange layered stage.
There still wasn't anyone on the very top, although Bret, Munch, and Anders all shot greedy glances up at the spot when they thought nobody was looking. The last man, the one with long straggly hair, barely paid any attention to them. He spent all his time furiously typing on his tablet even as the conversation raged around him. Every once in a while, he snickered eagerly and leaned his face right into the screen.
Munch pounded at his table.
"Don't believe the lies! We are at the very cusp of greatness. We are the cusp of a humanity transforming event! They're trying to use exaggerated images and outright lies to try to throw you off balance."
He spat.
"You can doctor anything these days!"
Anders leaped in.
"Just look at the incentives here! Who should I believe? The world-famous inventor who has honestly pursued greatness every day of his life? Or the corporate spy with nothing to lose? It's absurd! The Hands Paragon must immediately turn himself in and disavow these messages. The simulator tournament is later today. Where is his sense of common humanity? Will he allow his crimes to poison the atmosphere of Captain Stock's humanity transforming revelation?"
Bret giggled.
"It's just the lies of a desperate loser! He's trying to save his father's reputation by smearing Captain Stock! He doesn't care that we have the greatest simulator tournament in human history today? He only cares about himself!"
Jared flipped to his personal messages.
He didn't have a single response.
Some might have been brainwashed, but others simply believed the lies.
Jared knew many engineers who closely followed the company's sponsored writers.
Most didn't know of the company's close relationship with them and took their opinions at face value.
The ones who did, like his father, followed their words even more closely, viewing them as direct commands from Stock.
It was hopeless.
The sky itself was shouting him down, just like it'd done when he tried giving the speech outside the Spire.
The tablet slipped out of his fingers and landed with a dull thunk.
The dim thunk of his tablet hitting the floor was deafening.
It was more terrible than anything that came from the sky.
It was the sound of failure.
And then the noise was followed up by something even worse.
The unending rattle of gunfire.
"Where are you? Where are you?"
"Give it up! I need to get to the tournament!"
"Where are you, Hands Paragon! Give it up so I can kill you and then make it to the tournament!"
____
How had they found him here?
As soon as he reached Block 8, he'd transformed his machine into camping mode. To an outsider, it was just another piece of debris, just another oddly shaped piece of junk in a Block littered with them.
The screaming continued.
"Where is he? I know the Hands Paragon is here! I know it! Tell me! God! I can't believe I have to do this on the day of the tournament!"
"Tell me where he is! Tell me!"
There wasn't a chance the man could hear anyone's retort. He was shouting at the top of his lungs, and the gunfire was even louder than his voice.
The bullets shrieked through the air. The burnt red trails looked like they were tearing holes through reality itself.
Jared remembered Alex's story.
The infinite gleam was undoubtedly Eternium.
Burnt red meant Eternium stained with blood.
A cube home exploded with a noise that was half a shriek and half a song.
"Tell me! Tell me or I keep shooting! He is a wanted criminal! Tell me!"
Jared whirled around and saw the source of the Eternium bullets.
He gasped.
It was a Paragon – a true Paragon, just like the ones from the legends. The hulking machine gleamed for
ever black from head to toe, the color of raw unpainted Eternium, the color of the Spire.
The hulking Paragon was armed with Gatling guns over the shoulders and a double-barreled rifle in each hand. Yet another cannon was strapped over its mouth, jutting out like the stinger of a mosquito. It was based off the Grizzly model from the simulator.
The enormous weight of its incredible firepower forced the machine to waddle uncomfortably as it moved forward.
"Where is he? Where is the Hands Paragon!"
Flame and smoke drifted through the air, the stench so strong that Jared could smell it from inside his machine. It was almost as bad as the night of the quakes.
He could smell the faintest hint of burning flesh.
Jared couldn't allow more people to die.
The man shouted and shouted.
"What happened with these homes! Who built these homes! He's here, isn't he? He's here! Tell me! Tell me he's here!"
Buildings crumpled and even exploded as he fired and fired.
"These homes look like a Paragon built them! Who built these homes? Who built these homes?"
Jared hadn't even built homes on Block 8. He'd never made it that far.
The scream of the weapons intermingled the pilot's booming voice was so loud that Jared could barely hear the cries for mercy.
The gunfire ran and on and on. The people of Block 8 screamed and died deaths of Eternium and flame.
A girl took a stray slug the size of her entire body. The burnt red bullet streaked towards her, and then she was gone, gone as if the void had swallowed her whole. The only evidence of her life was the deeper red color of the bullet buried in yet another home.
"Tell me! Tell me or I'll just keep shooting! Tell me!"
He had no chance, no chance at all.
But what else was a Paragon built for?
People sprinted out of their homes, screaming and pleading, their words totally drowned out. It didn't matter what they intended to say. The man in the black Paragon laughed as he fired indiscriminately.
Another round of burnt red gunfire destroyed the home his Paragon had parked beside. Sheets of metal shrapnel flew into the air.
"Tell me! I need to get to the tournament! Tell me! I can't hear you! You need to shout, or I can't hear you!"
In response, Jared shouted out the words.
"A man pursues his greatest desire!"