Omnium's Fables

Omnium 21295:Alpha

Hours after the conversation with Doctor Stroheim, even the Lone Soldier succumbed to exhaustion. He had secured the red vial in a security cell in the Avion's cockpit, a compartment protected by a code, a methodical gesture reflecting his relentless nature. Then, with heavy steps, he headed towards his cabin in the residential sector.

He lay down on the bed without removing his black armor, his body ready to spring into action even in repose. He only intended a brief rest, a moment to recharge his strength, but exhaustion overwhelmed him, reminding him, despite everything, of his humanity. Yet, that rest, like the previous ones, was no refuge. It was an abyss.

A sudden tremor shook his hands, an unnatural cold gripping his bones. A cough seized him violently, a rattling gasp that tore at his chest. The Lone Soldier writhed on the bed, his face contorted in pain, blood streaming from his nose in warm rivulets. It was a V-crisis, brutal and unstoppable. With a trembling arm, he fumbled inside his armor, his fingers desperately searching for a syringe—the V-vaccine. Convulsions shook him, the pain in his chest choked him, but with a superhuman effort he managed to inject the medicine into his neck. His breathing calmed, his muscles relaxed, his heartbeat returned to normal. Then, darkness claimed him, and the Soldier passed out, falling into a deep sleep.

But what he saw was not a dream. It was a vision, a cursed gift of the V, that dragged him into a fragmented and terrifying future. He found himself on the Vienne's command deck, beside Ron and Captain Ross. In front of them, Jessie—standing again, seemingly healed, but enveloped by a chaotic tangle of Imprint, a mad energy that pulsed like a sick heart. On his face, an unnatural smile, madder than the Imprint itself.

"What have you done, Jessie?!" Ross yelled, his voice broken by anger and disbelief. "Why did you destroy the guidance system? If we continue on this course, we will get lost!"

Jessie laughed, a euphoric sound that filled the air with a disturbing energy. "Don't worry, Captain," he said, his eyes glowing with an unnatural light. "I know where we are going, and I promise you, if you trust me, I will save you all."

"Where are you taking us, Jessie?!" Ron cried out, his face contorted with fear.

Jessie, with a slow gesture, turned on the Monitor. The external view of the Vienne materialized, revealing a starless space, a black void without light. In the distance, a starship emerged from the darkness, its surface covered in tangles of pulsating red flesh, alive, like a monstrous organism. "But is that...?" Ross murmured, his voice cracking in a mix of desperation and hesitation.

The Lone Soldier took a step forward, his tone cold and mechanical as ever. "Chaos has infected him," he said, the words falling like stones.

"Infected? But when?" Ross asked, but the Soldier interrupted him abruptly. "The meteorite, Captain," he replied, his tone grim, definitive.

Ross clenched his teeth, his gaze returning to Jessie, anger burning in his eyes. "I understand," he said, his voice charged with furious bitterness. "What do we do now?"

The Lone Soldier advanced toward Jessie, his hand drawing his knife with a fluid movement. His Imprint suddenly exploded, a silvery energy that shook the air, visible to those who could perceive it. Ron, unable to manipulate Imprint, remained frozen, overwhelmed by a feeling of emptiness, a terror deeper than that evoked by Jessie's mad Imprint. "There is nothing more that can be done for him," the Soldier said, his voice emotionless. "Leave it to me. I will end him."

Jessie burst into disbelieving laughter, as if the Soldier's words were a joke. Then, his gaze became thoughtful, worried. "B-but Captain?" he stammered, the laughter turning into a nervous tinkle. "What are you saying? I want to save you all." His voice was that of an innocent boy, surprised by the idea that someone wanted to kill him.

Ross stared at him, his tone sad but gentle, as if trying to escort Jessie's consciousness through his final moments. "What do you want to save us from, Jessie?" he asked, playing along with the boy.

"From the war, Captain," Jessie replied, his voice igniting with desperate euphoria. "I swear to you, I can do it." But something changed. His voice doubled, a grotesque and somber echo speaking in unison with him, devoid of feeling. He pointed to the ship on the Monitor. "See? Ever since Chaos infected me, it speaks to me. You believe it is evil, but it is not! It is absolute power."

His voice rose to a euphoric shout, then stopped to catch its breath, his eyes fixed on the ship. "It is drawn to that ship. There is something there that it needs to devour, something it cannot help but seek. And once it has done that, I will gain the power to stop the war."

"This is madness, Jessie! You have to stop!" Ross yelled, a last desperate attempt to reach him.

But Jessie interrupted him, his tone dropping to an unsettling whisper. "It is not madness. The silver-haired man promised me." He turned toward an empty spot beside him, a smile creasing his lips. "Isn't that right?" he whispered.

"The silver-haired man? Who are you talking about?" the Lone Soldier asked, his body tensing into a combat stance, his knife ready. But the vision fragmented, like cracking glass, denying him the conclusion of that moment.

Another fragment materialized, a labyrinth of corridors winding along the Vienne's perimeter. Jessie, wounded, was fleeing, his body shaking with spasms of pain. His path was blocked by Gabe, who aimed a rifle at him, his face contorted in an expression of suffering and despair. He shot on sight. "Why, Gabe?!" Jessie cried out, his voice a wrenching sob. "Why do you want to kill me too?!" The liquid flowing from his wounds was not blood, but Chaos, a red substance that pulsed as if alive. The shots did not stop him. With a scream of rage, Jessie lunged towards Gabe, and the vision broke once more.

Another fragment showed the mutilated bodies of Lem and Dorothy, slumped in the shower, a senseless m******e. And then, the last fragment: the Lone Soldier, his sniper rifle still smoking, a huge hole in Jessie's chest. The boy wept, cursing him with all his being, his body dissolving into a red sludge that evaporated into the air. Ross, wounded, shouted something behind him, but the vision cut off.

The Lone Soldier's eyes snapped open, his breathing ragged, sweat dripping down his face. He was back in his cabin, the silence of the Vienne enveloping him like a shroud.

The Lone Soldier woke with a start, his eyes wide open in the darkness of the cabin, his breath scratching his throat like blades. But the nightmare was not over. His sight was veiled in red, a scarlet filter distorting everything, and his body lay immobile, a dead weight that did not respond to his commands. He tried to move an arm, a finger, but every attempt was futile, as if he were trapped in a prison of flesh. He tried to speak, to yell, but the sound turned into a searing pain, a fire tearing at his throat, suffocating him in a wrenching silence.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement on his face. A strange, viscous white liquid slid across his skin, alive, pulsating, like a sentient entity. Then, another sound made him jump: the slow creaking of the cabin door opening, a metallic lament echoing in the silence. Despite being locked down, the Soldier managed to shift his gaze in that direction, and what he saw terrified him for the first time in his life. His breathing became shallow, sweat poured down his temples, soaking the bed.

From the doorway emerged an arm, but it was not human: a silvery limb, slick like liquid metal, covered in the same white liquid that dripped to the floor, forming small puddles that moved, alive, crawling across the floor like hungry creatures. The figure did not advance further, merely holding the door ajar with that alien hand. Beyond the threshold, an impenetrable darkness, but the Soldier perceived a presence, something terrifying and monstrous staring at him from the shadows.

Then, a voice broke the silence, a sharp, metallic sound intertwined with a low, deep, emotionless reverberation, as if two voices were speaking in unison, an unnatural chorus that was neither male nor female. "IT IS FINALLY TIME," it said, the high notes tinged with a disturbing euphoria.

The white liquid on the floor approached, crawling toward the bed, while the liquid on the Soldier's face began to penetrate his skin, forming metallic veins that burned like acid. The pain was hallucinating, a torment tearing at his soul, every fiber of his body screaming in silence. Panic overwhelmed him, a wave that constricted his chest, his heart pounding as if it wanted to explode.

"THE V SHOWED IT TO US," the voice continued, after a pause that felt eternal. "BUT IT WILL NOT GO AS PREDICTED. WE NEED YOU TO TAKE THE NEXT STEP." The words were a command, an unrelenting sentence. "WE NEED YOU, THE BEST AMONG ALL ALPHAS, THE EXCELLENCE."

The Soldier writhed, the pain consuming him as the metallic veins expanded, carving into his flesh like an infection. His sight dimmed, the world fading into a red and black abyss. The voice's final words reached him like a distant echo, a whisper that made him shudder even in torment. "HIS FAVORITE NOURISHMENT."