#leera

When a group of Imperial Shadows sneaked onto an unmarked ship, the stage had already been set for disaster. The Tribune, Lysander sas Theius, had been recently injured by an unknown woman. Gunshot through the head, and through his innovations, his support from mutants he had made, he survived. He survived enough to board the ship intending to deliver cargo back to Solus, organize private transport, and transfer one of his prized units to an unknown officer. The other remained at Solus waiting for his return.

I didn't get there in time.

The cargo ship crashed in the rolling fields below the Sea of Clouds, in the rocky plateau that tore the transport ship to shreds on its spines. The skeleton crew that had traveled with the ship, if they weren't murdered, now lay across the field in no better shape than the ship. Body parts and blood scattered over the stone and the fallen.

They had bound him, frozen him to the ship, and held him down until the last moment. The impact shattered the ice. Being near to the cockpit, the nose of the ship crushed inward, and everything behind it.

Among all the wreckage pushed out a bloody hand, thin yet elegant, duskwight skin, to grip the nearest object. The hand slapped metal with a bloody splat, smearing when the fingers closed. Another hand followed, but could not get the wreckage free. Trembling, the hand opened up and pointed a finger skyward, turning the wrist over. Water flooded the crashed belly of the ship and pushed the machines up and away. They tumbled aside with loud bangs and sparking electronics. Unit 305 gasped for clean air in the smoke, coughing up a blue-tinted blood from crushed ribs. He set his head down to try and process all that happened. He remained that way only for 15 minutes, but it felt like he slipped into a sleep. He stirred with another cough.

His water remained spilled out of two devices in his back, near his shoulders. One of the turbines sounded damaged. The fan blade of a propeller had broken off and become lodged. It hindered that side from managing the water flow with the precision he was used to. They flowed out a viscous water that rested around him like broken wings.

"Father", he grunted to get himself pushed up. His right arm crumbled. Broken. He hit the paneling with a sharp pain electrocuting him. In his frustration, he drew his other hand across the air and summoned up a blade of wind to carve the broken appendage off. He reached over and tossed it aside while the bleeding stub began to bubble with water. He got himself to his feet after that and staggered. His missing arm would take a moment to rebuild, giving him enough time to take in the sight.

Fire. Carnage. Smoke. Sparks. The sky had dulled against the gray. It left a unit who had seen war awestruck. It was then that he realized, if he was here, Theius had to be under the same paneling. Theius had taken one of 305's crystals and kept it on his person for emergencies. If the crystal became wet, the unit could use it to travel. Thankfully, someone had attempted to drown the man while the crystal sat in the pocket of his mouth. It meant the subject had teleported inside of the man, and if he stood now free, that meant the frozen body had...

"Father! Father!" the elezen screamed. He turned to dig down and throw metal aside using the one good arm and one water pillar that held its form. He was finding pieces of other soldiers. There was blood and soot making a black paste over everything. He threw pieces aside until he found a familiar body, shattered into three major chunks. The upper body with one arm still attached, a fissure severing the other from the flank, and the final a broken line across the back. Purple fluids drenched the area. The subject had barely reformed his arm and he was trying to check vitals in the broken body. The bloody fingers found nothing. "I", he whispered. "No this can't- ... help!" He stood up and shouted into the wreckage. "Did anyone survive!? Anyone! I need a medic! I can't heal! I can't heal!" he screamed with no answer. He hesitantly ran away from the site trying to find anyone, but no one made it but him. His eye scanned everything, and found nothing. He didn't make it far from the body, turning back to be at the body's side. "This can't be. You haven't fixed me yet! You have to fix me!! I need to heal you!"

He held a shaking hand over the corpse. If he cast any magic, it would drain the aether left from the body rather than add to it. His healing energy never flowed in the right direction. He could only take into himself, as a disposal, and kill. His instincts to clean the gore up were stronger than anything else right now save for his want to fix this body. "Please, move. Get up. Do anything. Signal", he begged. "Please."

There was no answer.

305 turned over his hand to look at it in silent question of why it couldn't heal. He hated his hands in that moment. Their image swirled when tears welled up in the way of his vision. He failed. That's all he could think. He failed to save the Tribune. He failed to be fixed. He could only destroy. The elezen placed that hand now on the shoulder of the body so he could dip his head low and sob as loudly as this now private ground zero would permit.

He wept. He wept for a long time. All the work needing to be yet done, all of the intentions, lost. His pooling tears made only a small few drops next to the leviathan of water that spilled out of his augmented back. It gave him something to stare at for the time being, watching them mix with blood and dirt from the Tribune's robes. "Is this all I can do for you?" he asked. He reached down to turn the body over to see the face, just so he could see how mangled the Shadows had made it, fuel for his vengeance. He also wished to harvest any cores of brethren the Tribune had used on himself. It was turning the man over that shocked him.

Freshly implanted with stitches still in place was a false eye where the man had lost his own to a bullet. The design caught 305's attention because of its familiarity. Gently, a finger lifted Theius' lid to see it better. Black, glossy glass with a still reactive shutter of a mechanical device. The artificial pupil expanded and analyzed the elezen reflected in its surface. Without thinking, all 305 could utter on a hush was, "My other eye." He came to a moment later when he realized what he said. He touched at his own false eye as a reaction. "What am I saying", he mouthed.

He jolted.

"A-.. A data node! It's the same model! Father! Father, answer me!" he rushed to say speaking to the eye now. "I'm here! I need orders! What do I do!?" Though, he got no answer. The node reacted and continued to read visuals, but nothing more. 305 leaned back trying to think. His eyes darted back and forth while his mind raced. What could he do now? "There's nothing I can do. I'm just an executioner, Father", he whined. He would stare for a long time. His wandering eyes found no answer.

His brow furrowed after a moment and his eyes settled on the mechanical eye again. The Evolution Project was all about this man's vision of combining elements from units, creatures, humans, anything. 305 looked now at his commander wearing an eye made for units, sending signals like one. He reached forward to pick up the top half of the corpse and flip it onto its back. The spine made it difficult, but enough force turned the body over. The subject looked at his commander and spoke, "I have to believe your theory will work." He reared back a hand to pierce the socket and retrieve the false eye from the body's skull. His slender hand pushed flesh out of the way to pry out the eye. "I have to believe you are in here. I can save you, if you are", he said getting more determined, and more fearful. The moment the eye left the socket, the water that spilled all over lifted off the ground in a span. The blades of wind organized themselves into rows of deadly beauty. The side with the broken turbine shuddered and faltered occasionally as the water tried to maintain its crystalline clear state.

Most of all, the elezen seemed beyond hurt with what he was considering, but given what he was intending to do, he hated himself for event thinking it, but it could work. It could work. With the false eye gripped in hand, the water he commanded carefully collected the mangled flesh. There was another node yet to collect from the body, but the elezen would find it sooner or later, because he intended to go through every part when he disposed of the body. Not discarding it, no. Doing the one job Father promised to take from him, taking the aether from the fallen into one’s self and using it, the cannibal unit ate. 305 rarely, if ever, consumed using his mouth. He always allowed his water to cleanly dissolve the bodies out of sight and deliver the aether to him. In the privacy of this open field among the rocks and sky, he knelt down with the blanket of water to canopy over them both, and he took the flesh that remained of his commander. The subjects of the Colossus Project believed disposals were foul things, grim reapers, and symbols of death. However, there was an equally strong belief that to be eaten by one was to continue living within them. They were death and the governors of souls.

It’s not over, Father. You have too much to do. I promise to mend you. I swear on it!

After feeding on the entirety of the remains, the bloody handed and red-mouthed subject opened his mouth one more time, shark-like, jagged teeth accepting the false eye he gripped the entire time. Without doing more than setting the device on his tongue with extreme care...

He swallowed.