Great Eye (2)

It started with a miss.

I discarded that instance.

It started with one of the bat-like E.L.F.s exploding into pieces.

We had learned through numerous autopsies that E.L.Fs had structures akin to colonies of unicellular organisms, more like slime molds than multicellular beings. They lacked defined internal organs or a circulatory system. Instead, their equivalent of blood simply flowed through their sponge-like flesh. This biology made ammunition effective on humans much less impactful on them. Neither the kinetic impact of conventional bullets, which relies on inflicting damage through shockwaves in the body, nor the depletion of circulating fluids—blood loss in more complex organisms—could easily harm them. The loosely connected, gelatinous composition of their internal structures meant they were able to absorb and distribute kinetic forces effectively, while their lack of a pressurized circulatory system made them impervious to typical bleeding injuries. They also had no singular vital systems. Only extensive damage or high temperatures could kill them, and thermal weapons tended to ruin the valuable compounds Aperture sought.

During the year we had been hunting them in the Hawking anomaly, both to keep Hawkins residents safe—though there had been no incidents of crossing since the closing of the large gate in Hawkins lab—to make it safer to harvest the vines, and to collect their corpses for use and research, we had developed specialized ammunition. Fragmentation bullets, with flechetes whose sides were coated with propulsion gel, and tips with repulsion gel. Upon impact, these bullets would fragment. The flechetes, each propelled by their gel coating, would accelerate through the target's body, wreaking havoc. The repulsion gel on the tip of each flechette caused them to ricochet wildly within the target, turning every hit into a miniature maelstrom of destruction. This was a weapon designed not to kill, but to shred from the inside out.

The use of such a weapon on humans would be considered a war crime and was incredibly inefficient besides. Humans were much easier to kill.

For a moment, all the bat-like creatures scattered wildly as the death throes of one of their kind reverberated through their hive mind. The hive mind, while excellent for communication and coordination, had its weaknesses. The creatures recovered quickly, however. Just in time for the next one to die.

It took four more deaths before they zeroed in on the sniper.

Using the dead trees as cover, the flock started approaching the W.A.R.G from different directions. It wasn't just us who had gained experience during these hunts. They had learned some of the limitations of Aperture's weapons as well. W.A.R.Gs were precise, but they had a limited arc of fire. Due to their maneuverability, this wasn't considered a significant issue. They could turn, or kneel with their back legs, allowing anti-air for a much higher angle than needed in this fight, as the bat-like E.L.F.s were keeping low under the dead forest canopy. Their strategies were rudimentary but effective. This adaptability provided some evidence of intelligence, yet they remained either unable or unwilling to communicate.

Each death sent a shudder through the hive mind, but they sacrificed members of the flock for distance anyway. It was effective. A solitary WARG had limited defensive capabilities at close range, particularly against opponents as diminutive as these E.L.F.s

There had been proposals to add robotic arms or a chemical spray for close combat, but the required compromises would have reduced their effectiveness in their main purpose. After all, there was only so much that could fit into a chassis of that size.

It looked almost like a silly dance, the W.A.R.G.'s metallic legs twisting as it pirouetted left and right, tracking the flying enemy through the gaps between the desiccated trees. In its head, the telescopic lens zoomed in and out in a constant swirl.

But the Z-shaped gun barrels extending from its sides, reminiscent of the panels on Aperture's Sentry Turrets, an earlier model of automated sentry, were not just for show. Once it found a clear firing line to the enemy, it would fire the spring-loaded bullet through Propulsion Gel coated barrels. The bullet would bounce twice off the angled bends coated with Repulsion Gel, bringing swift death to the flying E.L.F.s.

But tracking, aiming, and moving to the next enemy took time. The time that the enemy used to get closer. It was a race. If every shot was a hit, and if the enemy moved predictably, then the time required to dispose of one could be calculated. By multiplying that by the number of enemies, the time needed to dispose of all of them could be determined. If the progression were predictable, it would provide an estimation of how much time the W.A.R.G. had.

But the reality was more complex. The order of disposal was not random but governed by a complex algorithm that wasn't overly complicated, since the time needed to make a decision was also part of the equation.

Would it be better to have a more efficient firing order but lose starting time due to longer calculations, or to start earlier based on educated guesses?

Such dilemmas were determined by teams of expert programmers and mathematicians. In the world of Aperture, if there was an Art of War, it had been distilled down to stochastic patterns.

Yet this could be said for any human art. It was just that war happened to be more profitable than painting. For now.

Improving these algorithms was an iterative process. Just a month ago, a single W.A.R.G would have had little chance of winning such a race against the same number of flying enemies. Now, the success rate stood at sixty percent. I could gauge this simply by comparing the instances in which the robot successfully kept the E.L.F.s at bay against those in which the flying creatures managed to reach it.

Naturally, I dismissed those unsuccessful instances.

The data obtained through observation was useful, but unfortunately, I couldn't access the particular W.A.R.G's logs from the failed instances. My analysis was constrained to my own observations.

The next sequence revealed that the enemy was employing more sophisticated tactics.

While the erratic flight of the enemy air force was distracting the robotic warrior, their cavalry was outflanking it - a basic application of the combined arms doctrine. The pack of dog-like E.L.F.s was closing in from three sides. They were too close – but it hardly mattered, because they were walking into a trap.

The enemy suddenly froze in their tracks, shivering as their petal-like maws swung open in a silent howl. I deduced what that meant. The W.A.R.G had pulsed its sonic weapons, emitting a subsonic purr. Originally, this weapon was meant to drive away animals and put human soldiers in a state of subtle unease and fear. It was undetectable by human ears, and even if it was detectable, it wouldn't matter to me. I was using the palantír to observe. There was no sound. I knew it was in use because of the enemy's reaction.

It took some experimentation, but we found frequencies that were effective on the E.L.F.s. In this instance, numbers were detrimental since discord spread through the hive mind. Of course, that by itself was not enough. But there was a reason the W.A.R.G waited so long to use sonic weapons.

It was also a signal.

Two more W.A.R.Gs emerged silently from further back, hidden among the dead trees.

Now the ambush was reversed.

This was the reason I had wasted Od earlier to ensure that no enemy reached the seemingly lone W.A.R.G prematurely. Otherwise, alerted through the hive mind, the E.L.F.s would retreat rather than try to eliminate it.

"Everything proceeds as planned. The ambush of their scouts at the fringes had pushed them right onto the planned path. It is almost too easy," I said to Archer as I lifted my hand from the black orb.

"They are moving a bit slower than they could, Master. But that might just be caution. Overestimating the enemy could be as detrimental as underestimating them," Archer replied absentmindedly, not turning away from the monitors, his fingers deftly dancing on the keyboard. Managing the Aperture robotic horde was a full-time job. This was the first time we had fielded so many together and it was revealing some bugs. This should have been the work of a whole team of operators, but we wanted to keep some things under wraps, so he was doing it alone. "And you shouldn't underestimate the influence of the palantír. It gives us quite an informational advantage."

I bit into one of the chocolate bars imbued with a healing Ether variant. It helped alleviate my headache. And the sweet taste of chocolate was truly great. Both using the palantír and True Magic were exhausting, but maintaining both at the same time even more so.

"Indeed, it has allowed me to extend the reach of the True Magic spell, Shatter: Ophanim. Since the spell is bound to my observation, I can use it from a great distance through the Seeing Stone." I moved behind him, beginning to knead his tense shoulders. "You have a lot of knots," I murmured, my breath warm against his ear.

He let out a grateful moan, "Typing is hard work, Master. How did the spell perform in practice?"

"It was both subtle and powerful," I replied, tracing my fingers gently down his neck as I spoke. "It felt almost as if my Luck attribute increased by a whole rank while I was using it." I reflected on the attribute ranks displayed through Master Vision during the Grail Wars. I missed it at times, but such a divination depended on everyone being in the same system, so there was little point in trying to recreate it.

Leaning in closer, I whispered, "However, it did consume a lot of Od. Perhaps it would be more efficient to simply incinerate them with fire or lightning. But then, that wouldn't be as subtle, and range would be a problem. You don't mind if I borrow some of yours, do you?" The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications, as my fingers continued their gentle exploration.

"It's not like I am using it right now," Archer responded in an even tone. Despite his composure, with my hands against his skin, I could feel his pulse quicken at the suggestion. I licked my lips, anticipating the taste of his essence. After something sweet, I was in the mood for something salty. "But I do have a lot of work managing your robotic army. So, you'll have to be quick."

"No need to stop. Keep working. I trust you can manage to work through any... distractions," I murmured, slowly descending to my knees, placing myself strategically in front of him. It was rather convenient that our terminals were designed for standing rather than sitting, attached to the podium where the palantír was placed.

Promptly, I freed his cock from its prison of cloth. With practiced hands, I stroked the length of his hardened shaft until he was fully erect. His moans of approval mixed with the clicking of keystrokes on a keyboard as my tongue flickered over the tip before taking him deep into my mouth once again.

As I suckled on his cock, I savored the salty tang of his Od rich pre-cum mixed with the sweetness of chocolate I just ate. The familiar musky scent of his arousal filled my nostrils as he grew harder and more urgent in my hands. And I could still hear him typing away. Such self-control.

His pulsing erection twitched against my tongue as I teased the sensitive tip, eliciting a low groan from deep within his chest.

With each stroke of my hand or flicker of my tongue, I could feel his body tensing with anticipation. He was so close to release that I knew it wouldn't take much more to push him over the edge.

As I continued to pleasure him, I felt a rush of warmth and wetness as his orgasm hit me full force in my mouth. And power. His cock jerked spasmodically against my tongue as he pumped wave after wave of hot cum rich with magical energy into my throat.

I stood up leaving his pants and underwear pooled at his feet, feeling a sense of satisfaction that I had been able to bring him such pleasure. It was just him and me on this roof, and in this way, the sight was perfect.

Licking my lips, I could feel the Od settling into my magic circuits. With some free time on my hands, I decided to check in on Two through the senses of the snake familiar coiled around his torso. As I murmured an aria under my breath to initiate the connection, I found him not where I had expected - it wasn't the Wheeler's house. He was with Trevor and Will, somewhere else entirely. Curious.

"Are you sure this is the place? I was told it would be the Wheeler's house," Two questioned sharply, his hand possessively intertwined with Trevor's.

Will glanced at their entwined hands, an almost longing expression on his face. He shook his head and replied, "Dustin is going to a summer camp for young scientists. We were all at his house helping him pack. I was supposed to be there too, but Mr. McGee..." He shyly glanced at Trevor, a blush creeping on his face, "offered to help with my drawings."

Trevor's soft words drew my attention back to the trio. He was looking at Will, a small smile playing on his lips. "It was my pleasure, Will. You've got a real talent and I'm happy to nurture it. I wish someone had done the same for me at your age."

There was a pause as Trevor turned towards Two. His tone changed, becoming sterner. "Damien, stop being so rough with Will."

A wicked grin flashed on Two's face. "I bet Will would like it rough. Rough and hard..." His voice dropped to a suggestive whisper as he eyed Will.

Trevor's response was quick and laced with annoyance. "He's only fourteen, Damien. If you're fantasizing about being arrested, I'm sure I could scrounge up a pair of handcuffs."

Two didn't miss a beat. "Is that a promise?" he quipped back flirtatiously, earning him a glare from Trevor. His expression quickly sobered. "But work first," he said, his voice returning to its serious tone as he rang a bell.

The bell rang sharply, its echo distorted and faint through the snake's senses. Two's impatience was palpable; when no one answered immediately, he let go of Trevor's hand. He rapped on the door with one hand while keeping the bell button pressed with the other.

When the door finally swung open, it was Steve Harrington on the other side, looking disheveled. His eyebrows knotted in confusion as he took in the sight of Trevor and Two with Will Byers at their side.

"So, where's the fire?" he barked, not waiting for an answer before he continued in an irritated tone, "I recognize Will, and Trevor McGee is practically famous. But who the hell are you?"

Two straightened up, projecting an air of authority. "Damien Smith. Personal assistant to Director Johnson. Now, be a good minion and bring Jane Evans here. We need to move her to a safer location."

"You're a little young to be a PA," Steve said suspiciously, eyeing Two with narrowed eyes.

"He's an intern," Trevor interjected, jumping in to support Two.

"Wait a minute, do you have any written orders, or at least some ID to show me?" Steve challenged, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can't just hand her over to you."

Two opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a word out, he was interrupted by a shout from inside the house. Mike had just arrived, his eyes wide and a scowl on his face. "You!" He pointed accusingly at Two. "You need to apologize to El."

"Apologize to her?" Two retorted, an incredulous look on his face. "That's such a bad joke it's not even funny."

Steve turned to Mike, clearly still on edge, "Mike, do you know this guy?"

"He called El a freak!" Mike shouted, pointing a finger at Two.

"Who called El a freak?" Max asked as she entered the room, her eyes wide with surprise.

El walked in after Max, her gaze focused on Two. "You," she said quietly, "What did you say, that I forgot you?"

"Damn, they're multiplying," Two exclaimed, sounding more annoyed than threatened. His gaze flickered to the slingshot Lucas was holding, a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he quickly dismissed it. "You should all be grateful, I'm here to reduce your number by one," he retorted, spreading his arms wide in an exaggerated gesture. "Feel free to fall to your knees in gratitude." His words were sharp, laced with sarcasm, and his eyes held a mocking gleam.

Upon hearing Two's words, Dustin's eyes went wide, his imagination running wild. "Are you an assassin?" he sputtered out, backpedaling a step. "Is this some Mafia stuff? Are we in danger? You can't just come here and start threatening to 'reduce our numbers'!"

"Apparently," Steve began, his eyes never leaving Two, "our 'friend' here is supposed to take Jane to a safe location. Allegedly. I'm still waiting for some proof of that. I don't remember seeing him at Aperture, but maybe he's from the Enrichment Center or something. Jane, have you seen him before?"

"I don't know him. I met him for the first time the day Mike and I snuck into the mall. But he seems to know me," Eleven responded, her brow furrowing as she looked at Two. "He said I had forgotten him and some others."

Steve's skepticism was evident. "Could he really be the Director's personal intern?"

"I don't think the Director has one," Eleven said, shaking her head. "But he did have Trevor babysit Sam when his dad was hurt in an experiment."

A hint of jealousy crept into Mike's voice as he interrupted, "Who's Sam?"

"He's a friend," Eleven replied nonchalantly, a small shrug accompanying her words.

Max, hearing the slight edge to Mike's question, decided to jump in. She crossed her arms over her chest, fixing Mike with a stern look. "She's allowed to have other friends, you know."

"Who cares about Sam!" Mike blurted out, his jealousy flaring up. 

As the words left Eleven's mouth, Dustin suddenly burst into the conversation, a flurry of wild theories tumbling from his mouth. "Wait, if Sam is also a psychic, is he in danger too? Are aliens involved? Did the government find out about El's powers? Did Brenner escape from the nuthouse? Is that why you're here?"

"Shut up, Dustin!" Lucas hissed, elbowing him sharply.

Before anyone could reply, Will, who had been unusually silent during the entire confrontation, mumbled softly, "If Brenner is free, does that mean the Upside Down...?" He didn't finish his sentence, the fear in his eyes saying more than enough.

Amidst the chaos, Steve turned to Trevor, his voice barely audible over the noise. "Trevor, do you vouch for this... Damien?"

"I can vouch for him," Trevor began, but Steve cut him off.

"I trust Jane, but I have no reason to trust you," Steve retorted, eyeing Trevor with suspicion. "We should try to call Director Johnson to clarify things."

The room was a cacophony of voices, questions, and accusations flying around like darts. Two stood there, his patience rapidly dwindling with each passing second. He was not used to dealing with such disarray, especially not when time was of the essence.

"Enough!" Two shouted, startling Lucas into accidentally firing his slingshot. The projectile flew directly at Two who, with a swift movement, raised his hand, and the stone froze in mid-air. The room fell silent as everyone stared at the suspended stone.

"Something happened at the asylum," Two announced, his voice resounding in the silent room, "and as a precaution, Director Johnson ordered me to gather anyone who could potentially be used to open a gate to a safe place. If you continue to obstruct me, I will have to assume you're a member of Brenner's little cult and I will deal with you accordingly."

Before I could observe their reactions, I felt a pulse through another Karmic Bond. Khenumra was calling me. It seems that my time watching this teenage reality show has run its course. Two had located both Will and El, and I should trust him to guide them to Archer's house, hopefully without violence. More pressing matters demanded my attention now.

I was now seeing through Khenumra's eyes, my senses adjusting to the shift. The scene in the old chapel stretched out before us, a grisly tableau of death and ritual.

The chapel was cloaked in shadows, the dim light filtering through the stained-glass windows casting an eerie glow on the chaos within. Yet, this mattered little to the senses of an incubus. The altar was a macabre canvas of dried blood, where once polished wood had shone. Rows of pews were strategically moved aside, the floor space used for a gruesome spectacle now past. The bodies of the celebrants lay scattered, improvised scourges and daggers clutched in their lifeless hands. Their cause of death was clear: shock and blood loss.

The air hung heavy with the scent of decay, mixed with the iron tang of blood and a distinctive smell unique to the Hawkins Anomaly.

On the sacristy wall, a grotesque display confronted us. The remnants of what was once a human being were strewn about, an explosion of flesh and bone painting a macabre picture. The head, however, was eerily intact. It rested several feet away from the carnage, a serene smile gracing the lips, a jarring contrast to the scene of brutality.

Through Khenumra's eyes, I studied the layout of the room, analyzing the placement of the scattered body parts, discarded items, and traces of what was most certainly a ritual. It seemed that Brenner had finally grasped the concept of using ritual means to focus psychic energies. A worrying and unwelcome development. And so very uncharacteristic of the man, but then again he had changed, his mind twisted by Mental Interference. And yet it may be that it was less of a pure loss, and more of a trade: sanity for forbidden knowledge.

Blood had been splattered across the room in an almost artistic pattern, signifying the explosive opening of the gate. The trails also showed the paths that the participants had taken in their frenzied dance of self-mutilation, feeding the fulcrum with their manic energy.

Pieces of torn clothing mixed with fragments of flesh provided a vivid image of the ensuing chaos. Move and strike, move and cut, let the blood flow, let the power gather. And there nailed to the wall was the fulcrum, the sacrifice and main caster. A psychic, almost certainly. Gathering all that violent emotion, all that wild energy, until he exploded, his very flesh morphing into the gate.

The symbols etched into the floor and walls were a mishmash of various religions and mythologies, but there was a prominence of spider-like images. A messy amalgamation. I'm not sure it served any purpose besides decoration. Too unfocused. It almost seems exploratory. Was Brenner trying to make sense of his new patron? It couldn't be the same demon; that one I had disposed of. Although a bit too late.

But the spider image did provide more evidence to my previous supposition. I suppose it made sense, if the second could be considered an offspring of the first, then Brenner might be part of the inheritance. And there were other links.

Amid the blood and carnage, I noted the strange, twisted growths that covered the sacristy wall. These were no ordinary plants; they were the dead remnants of the gate's organic matter. They seemed to radiate a subtle energy, hinting at the residual psychic energy from the gate's opening and closure.

The gate was closed now, but the evidence of its brief opening was splattered all over the chapel. Despite the gore and horror, I remained calm and focused. The task at hand was to analyze the clues, piece together the event, and, if possible, anticipate Brenner's next move.

But before that, I needed to understand why. And what was the connection with the E.L.Fs? Was this a summoning? Had he brought One back from where Eleven had banished him, and with him his dark passenger? Were the E.L.Fs agitated because One had stolen something from their lair? Were they attacking my tower, seeking passage to Earth to hunt One? Or was I assigning all too human motives to very alien beings?

All of this was just supposition. I needed more data. I needed to know to whom the corpses here belonged. And for that, I ordered Khenumra to go to the main office and look through the files. What he found there only added more questions.