CHAPTER 11: Departure

The minute clink of a solid table colliding with a glass object rang out as Alex hastily grabbed it and put it in his pocket. On his waist rested a belt with plenty of pouches and a couple of gun harnesses. He only had enough space to take one small personal object with him. It was a miniature jar of black sand from the beaches of an island that his family went to some time ago. He had long since forgotten the name of the island, but he remembered the experience so vividly. He had been given it from his younger brother because of a bet that he won, despite all odds against him. This was his most treasured memory of a time when he still could do stupid things and enjoy a simple, leisurely life. That was not too long ago, at least, from Alex's point of view. He had been here for months, but he only had the chance to perceive a few days' worths of experiences. Alex wondered, what was his family doing now? What did they think he was doing now? They were probably going about business as usual, thinking that he was in the background of one of America's many wars right now. A small war was already happening between America and yet another third world country, as usual. He was just lucky that World War III ended a few years before this entire predicament occurred. Alex's mother would never have allowed him to "go to war" then. He thought for a moment. Would he have a better chance of survival in this "war" against the third world mercenaries, or the Year of White Ashes itself? He immediately became more appreciative of his luck. Had he been a little older, he could've been drafted into that suicide fest of a war. No powers, nothing. Compared to that, his survival rate was soaring. He thought about the path ahead of him, past this war, if possible. He thought about the aliens, and about future wars. The information that the Arbeteres System had given him assured that alien technology was on a completely different level than humans, but not if humanity used its money, time, and priorities wisely, as well as establishing stable alliances with themselves and any alien race willing to offer support. But like that's ever going to happen. Society as a whole was very fragile, much more so than one would be led to think. Uprisings, starvations, bankruptcy, betrayals, broken treaties. An ideal example of this was the aftermath of World War III, that had not only left the world with new technology and a complete change to law and order, but had also increased instability and mistrust between the very nations that fought as one against the international TA. Yet another reason why Ethiopia had struggled so much to find any allies. The countries have learned the lessons that the TA had shoved down their throats:

that each country has its own selfish desire in mind when supporting another country, and will abandon them at the first signs of any serious danger, and that if you mess with the TA or its policies, you will be punished. Severely.

Alex himself had once watched in terror as the TA's crimson black jets flew overhead of him in the semi-darkness of dusk on one fateful day. They had a presence to them, one of calm, collected destruction. Just them passing with their screeching engines and their smooth, sinister speed(traveling far above mach ten) was enough to make him as a boy know that defeat was inevitable. Alex didn't know what monstrous machines he would encounter, all he knew was that Midnight would only be part of his worries. He left out the door, without his spare clothes or other things that would weigh him down. His staff was on his back, held by an automatic clamping mechanism that released its grasp when he grabbed his hands onto the handle of the heat pipe. Pretty convenient, indeed. The staff's position could even be locked at certain angles, allowing him to fit through doorways with a one-time adjustment. It even had an emergency release if anything wrong were to happen. Alex was beginning to dread the thought of how much these things cost. The Association's efficiency with money was very high according to Maxwell, but this stuff had to be a fortune's worth. Mr.Green may be one of the world's richest men, but even he should've been thrown aback by the amount of money he had spent to make Alex the way he is now. Alex was walking when he noticed that the lights above him seemed dimmer. The shadows converged with the light in a disharmonious and unsatisfying way, and the isolation of the lone hallway both expanded itself and enclosed itself around Alex as he continued walking. A strange feeling fell over Alex, an omen of dread. A product of the subconscious. Unlike the sharp, intense tensions before, this was a dull fear that churned up one's insides slowly and mockingly. He heard a voice call out to him.

"Alex! How are you feeling? You're finally going to get to leave this place, isn't that good?!" Maxwell said.

"Yeah" Alex muttered, not by any means in the mood to talk. He didn't know why he felt like this. He knew there was a source, a root cause of this mental dilemma that plagued his being, but he could not put his finger on it. It enraged him, annoyed him, and consumed his attention. He felt like he could not be at peace until he figured it out and resolved it. Peter joined in on their walk, talking about how lucky Alex was for not having to undergo wave therapy. Alex answered in simple words, the conversation drifting over Alex's head. On approaching the car, Peter concluded his rant.

"Anyways, Alex, this will be the last time we meet in a while..." Peter said. Alex decided that he could push this feeling off of him to at least give an earnest goodbye to the people who had helped him through his struggles. He realized how fortunate he was to have good people by his side throughout the procedures, and how horrible it would've been otherwise. He had a newfound appreciation and respect towards them. He could not keep this silent.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. You guys made this bearable for me, I cannot tell you how much that means to me." Alex said with an unsuppressed smile, one that was awfully contagious. The disease spread like wildfire onto them.

"Alex," Maxwell said "let's talk about books, movies, and whatnot again someday. And don't forget about the books I had you read, the sequels are coming soon."

"I know, I know." Alex said "The novels were amazing, and the anatomy book you gave me was actually interesting. I actually remember what was in the books for once"

"Hmmm. And Alex?" Maxwell remarked "Be careful. Show them no mercy, 'cause they won't show any to you."

"Stole the words right out of my mouth." Peter said, landing a light jab on Maxwell's arm.

"I'll try." Alex said, shutting the car door and waving goodbye as the two bickered before waving back. The men kept wide smiles until the car went out of view. Maxwell's face changed from one of joy to one of seriousness. Peter's simply slipped into a neutral expression. Silence lingered there for a few seconds before dispersing at the sound of Peter's sighing breath.

"That kid's going to go through hell." Peter said, putting his hands in his coat pockets.

"And back, if our prayers are answered. I just hope he won't crack." Maxwell said, staring past the dirt pathway and into the trees. They turned back, making their way back to the underground fortress, awaiting their next task.

Alex sat in the car, his head tilting downwards as he rubbed the area around the crystal on his neck. The pains were persistent, and every once in a while, a sharper pain was felt due to a sudden acceleration of growth. Perhaps this was why he wasn't in a good mood. Alex decided to try to carry his way on through things until it got better, if it ever will. He had people who were depending on him with their lives. He could never disrespect them by not giving his mind, body, and soul also. Alex crossed his arms and thought about it. He was now the first Anti-Extinction Unit, as Maxwell called it. More known as the AX-1 unit. He will have to kill, no, murder many people to achieve the goal set out for him, and that's not even including the potential future beyond the war. He could barely outsmart or outfight the man who kidnapped him, let alone kill superhuman assassins and mercenaries. Though he now could retain procedural memories perfectly, he doubted that the Brotherhood could teach him everything he needed to know within a week. The enemies had trained long and hard before their ascension into unnatural monsters. His only hope was his X enigma, and even that wasn't on his side. Though it had grown irregularly fast into his brain, the spread of the nerves halted there and proceeded at regular speed down throughout his body. It was eager to connect, yet not to complete its job. figures. Alex spent the rest of his time examining his new armor in all of its silver and black glory. He then took a nutrient bar from his belt and tore it open, craving some nourishment. He had to constantly keep eating, or else he felt weak and deprived. His blood sugar would drop like nothing else. He looked out the window, seeing the small airport far in the distance. The countdown to battle was running to its end.