Chapter 9: Tower (3)

- Alexander -

"Border control is going well sir, we've reinforced the walls, increased the number of men patrolling and have begun construction on the requested buildings. Project 'Midas' should be up and running in a month although we currently lack the necessary staff. None of the individuals here seem to have skills in retail or hospitality," Joshua informed, his eyes gazing upon the papers on my desk.

Stacked high they almost seemed to reach the roof.

After recovering and having nothing else better to do he approached me confidently in wonder about what to do.

As the kind individual I was, I appointed him as my secretary and right-hand man.

While hesitant at first he swiftly came under my wing, it had been a first in leading others. I had entrusted him with my projects and arming the town, he was but an outlier to every citizen present.

Unlike most that had wandered in, the man had legitimately been burnt and betrayed it was all in the eyes. His fierceness and ferocity to survive was a talent I needed.

When had stared into his eyes I saw a flame that ignited with fury.

A deep hatred of those who wronged them. I had almost hesitated in instating the man as my second hand when he had awoken due to that fire dimming.

Yet he had proved me wrong when I had appointed him the tasks. I needed a hunting dog to slaughter my enemies and a hound to protect my wares.

And he was perfect for it. Fitted with altered Atlas armour and a combination of weapons he was lethal against intruders. He was perfect for the job.

Yet, he still needed to prove his worth. His time would come when he would be tested.

I would need to forge him be my blade and if he broke when hammered so be it. I had no use for a broken blade when thousands lingered.

It seemed he had still clutched to his humanity, an aspect while fruitful on certain occasions would not be needed.

"What about Mister Baha? Is he sure he doesn't want to live here? It's much safer here you know." I inquired.

The man wished to live a few kilometres away from the town in a small shack.

Why?

Even I didn't know, sooner or later he'd be dead. It seems he wished to get closer to her.

"He is firmly adamant about moving he simply wishes to live in his home sir, he wishes to spend his last few days alone near his wife's grave," Joshua responded, sitting across from me.

I would normally have him stand but as he was my second-hand man doing so would seem a tad heartless. Especially since I had pushed all the paperwork to him.

"A shame, he's a brilliant weapons designer. His talents could be spent well here." I voiced, disappointed.

Having acquired T.K Baha's weapon designs I shelved them within my core for later use - The Baha Wave was an incredible shotgun barrel-receiver that increased weapon scatter without the subsequent drop in damage.

It was the perfect tool for clearing enemies the force almost more powerful than some receivers.

Having spoken with people on the condition of the town they wished for the gates to open. A strange request that I initially declined.

If I opened the borders that would mean more work and resources to be used.

After the 'vault hunters' arrival, I stopped any more migrants or settlers from entering.

I had a suspicion that an Atlas spy was lingering about, the silence loud.

But being the benevolent leader I obliged, I had no use with being a tyrant.

But to teach them a lesson I gave out less food and water and hid it behind the pretence of giving out to the new townsfolk.

The regret on their faces was instantly plastered when I revealed it.

While some complained I merely told them that they had ordered their bed and now it was time for them to lay in it.

I even reminded them that if someone wished to become mayor they could, but in turn I would walk away from the town.

Complaints since then stopped. It was but an ugly yet undisputable fact that if I left this town would be tattered in shit and blood.

It was only through my prowess and constant militant pursuit that allowed the people to walk around the street without worrying about bandit raids or random beast attacks.

It was all me, I controlled the food, the water and their security.

If I ever so decided to leave, they would all die no doubt.

They had grown far too complacent with me lingering about.

While the average town had every citizen equipped, here, only the guardsmen needed to be vigilant creating a dependence on the guardsmen and myself.

Yes, the citizens were equipped but not every citizen was bustling into the street to protect their home.

This was the liberty and freedom they were given. The liberty to be lazy where others would need to be paranoid.

Even now I watched as children played with each other, the town folk laughing with one another. Just imagining their screams and slaughter was intriguing the possibility of an Atlas platoon wiping those grins off their faces.

So simple, so free it left a bitter taste in my mouth. Their freedom and happiness merely showcased their humanity, their weakness - and I find weakness disgusting.

Weak people should not have an opinion, and neither should the ignorant.

'Without me, you are all nothing.'

"So sir how do we go about hiring" Joshua asked, his words interrupting my inner monologue - The awkward silence between the two of us left him concerned.

"Screen them first, I have a suspicion that an Atlas spy is lingering about the populace. It won't be long before they show themselves." I revealed.

"How do you know this?" He inquired.

"A gut feeling. Something about the silence around the town is egging me. We went from constantly having to guard our borders to casually allowing people in. Does that seem normal to you?" I asked, "Screen for any signs of unusual behaviours amongst the people and have their traits noted. You were once an Atlas soldier no? Sniff them out. I won't risk having a ticking time bomb in our hands."

"Do we do this for every member or just the new additions?"

"Do what you will. I won't hold your hand on this one, I've got a lot on my plate as well." I authorised.

The lack of information prompted me to start planning the creation of a network-gathering system. With my Rakks in the sky at all times they scoped the area in search of life. Most of their findings were random migrants seeking refuge and the other finding was random wildlife.

So in doing so many projects started to form, the first one being the recreational centres' project dubbed 'Midas'. With it, I would create a large casino and a bar to lure in travellers with the intent of stealing their money. The house would be fixed of course with a few militants around to enforce the peace.

Project Midus was also not limited to merely a casino, the lack of diversity in food had also been a sign.

Without proper food or drinks a lack of differing taste palates was missing on Pandora.

I would in all my power stretch the fast-food chain to all of Pandora and the universe under the brand name 'Emperor's Delight' a knock of a certain brand from home.

The fast-food restaurant would of course sell a magnitude of delights with a whole menu to order from.

I would need to further study Pandoras' spices to substitute the missing ones.

The second project was a multi-layered series of goals that I had code-named 'Empire'.

The first goal was the establishment of my military force, my symbol created without an exact name.

The second goal was to grow the mercenary band into an army before spreading my influence around Pandora with the intent to expand both Project Midus and Empire in cohesion.

With it, I could even contend with the corporations.

As the number of people grew so did the consumption of resources in their small town of a hundred quickly tripling in a few days.

Atlas had started wiping towns instead of recruiting them with bandits also increasing their ferocious measures. With such chaos it invited opportunity.

"Good with this we'll be able to attract more visitors. God knows we need more people." I huffed.

"You know sir a lot of the populace is mostly filled with bandits and psychos..."

"Well they can purchase from our stores regardless, but whether or not they can come inside the town is another story."

"What do you mean by that sir?"

"Look around Joshua, I can't exactly go on a crusade and kill off possible customers. At some point, the bandits will become citizens whether they like it or not. Our job is to make sure they don't try to return to their old ways."

"Do you think that'll work?" He huffed.

Shaking my head I merely stated the obvious, "I know it will work. Most of the bandits merely fight for resources and not out of the pure enjoyment of slaughter. That would be me and a few others. Our job is to persuade them to join our functional society."

"By persuading them do you mean kill?"

"Kill, torture, doesn't matter. Pandora simply can't function as a planet without life or structure. We will create jobs, recreational centres, stores and avenues for business. Pandora is a gold mine, that is merely awaiting to be opened. The vault won't last as soon as its contents are opened. Life will continue to diminish until everything on this planet is destroyed. We need to be more than the vault, we must be better."

"So what exactly is this planet even worth sir? I don't find much worth in a husk of dirtball."

"That is where you and so many others fail to understand. Pandora is lawless with the Altas corporation merely attempting to hold the bandits back. They merely seek this as a point of interest and not an establishment. I will succeed where Dahl failed, this world is mine."

"Are you sure sir? While I admire your enthusiasm I am a tad sceptic."

"Soon you will learn to just trust me."

"I don't know if I can sir..."

"Then watch, just as I have told time and time again. Watch me, I move with action with my words a mere guide. I wish to restore order to this world as corny as it sounds."

"Then I'll follow your lead sir."

"That is all I ask."

"Sir we're receiving distress signals from a nearby town... They're being raided by bandits." A guard informed.

"Play it."

"This is Sheriff Barnes of Jaynistown. We're in dire straits here. The raiders have descended upon us, and we're outnumbered and outgunned. We need immediate reinforcements! They're tearing through our defences, causing chaos and destruction. Anybody out there, please, we're begging for your help!" The man was alarmed his voice dropping to a complete halt by the end of the video. Sounds of gunfire and screams on the other end.

"We should do something, sir... We can't just let them die." Joshua voiced, concerned.

"Fine, but we can't leave Fyerstone defenceless. Some of you will remain behind. I'll leave my beasts in case anything happens and have them relay any sudden ambushes. Prepare for battle 'cause fuck you're going to need it."

- Third person -

As the guards stood in tense silence, their eyes darted nervously between each other as they awaited Alexander's command.

His hands glistened with an aura, their body enchanted by his strange powers. 

The weight of apprehension hung heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of fear. These men, hardened by battle and tempered by the harsh realities of their world, were not easily shaken.

But now, as they prepared to embark on a raid under Alexander's lead, a palpable sense of unease gripped their hearts.

Whispers of the town's plight had reached their ears, tales of the merciless brutality inflicted by Alexander upon their enemies.

They had heard of his ability to syphon souls, to conjure otherworldly energies that decimated all who stood against him.

The rumours painted him as an unstoppable force, a fearsome entity capable of untold destruction.

Even if rumour stated that he was a child - what child weld such power? What kind of child gripped the hearts of many? Not many, if any.

Yet, for all the reverence that others bestowed upon him, the guards found themselves grappling with a mix of admiration and trepidation.

They knew, deep within, that aligning themselves with such a powerful being came with a price.

They had witnessed the aftermath of his wrath, the aftermath of battles where his enemies were left broken, their souls consumed by his insatiable hunger.

But Alexander had been clear in his intentions.

The town they were about to raid was infested with bandits and marauders who had terrorized the innocent, leaving behind a trail of blood and despair.

It was their duty to bring justice, to extinguish the threat that plagued the land.

And in their hearts, they hoped that Alexander's ferocity would be a shield against the malevolence that awaited them.

Yet, doubts gnawed at the edges of their resolve.

The stories they had heard were not merely tales spun from idle gossip, but accounts of his battles.

The children often held the man in high regard, yet parents couldn't help but worry. 

The guards had seen the aftermath of his battles, the twisted remains of those who had dared to challenge him.

They feared what it would mean to align themselves with a man whose power seemed to teeter on the edge of darkness, the man was unnecessarily gruesome and overbearing. 

As they stood there, steeling themselves for the impending raid, the weight of their decision pressed upon their shoulders.

They understood the cost of this allegiance and the toll it would take on their humanity but for the security that he offered it was priceless. 

The struggles burned comradery into them, not once had a mayor or leader ever risked their lives on the front, yet a seemingly small man was willing. 

A hushed voice broke through the heavy silence, cutting through the haze of uncertainty.

"He may be a monster, but I guess he's our monster," one guard whispered, his voice quivering with a mixture of fear and determination.

"I guess if it wasn't for Fyerstone I would've still been on the runaround."

Nods of agreement rippled through the group, a silent acknowledgment of the shared burden they carried.

The guards drew strength from each other, finding solace in the fact that they were not alone in their fears. Together, they would face the looming battle, whatever the cost.

And so, with hearts heavy and steps resolute, the guards steeled themselves for the coming battle.

They knew the road ahead would be fraught with peril, and that their souls would be tested in ways they could not yet fathom.

But at this moment, they chose to place their trust in the enigmatic figure before them, their fates entwined with Alexander's.

For better or worse, they would follow him into the fray, ready to confront the horrors that awaited them.

The echoes of their hesitations faded as determination took hold, pushing aside their fears. In that decisive moment, they were no longer merely guards, but soldiers bound by a common purpose.

With their hearts aflame and the spectre of uncertainty banished, they stepped forward, united in their shared resolve.

The path ahead was treacherous, but together, they would face the unknown, driven by a flicker of hope that, just maybe, they could bring about a sliver of light in a world consumed by darkness.

Alexander and his men approached the outskirts of the beleaguered town with caution.

The air was heavy with the stench of death, and the anguished cries of the afflicted echoed through the desolate streets. The once lively community now lay in ruins, ravaged by the depravity that had befallen it.

As they ventured deeper into the heart of the town, the grim consequences of the bandits' wicked deeds became increasingly evident.

Homes lay in smouldering ruins, bearing witness to the savagery that had been unleashed upon them. The marauders, devoid of mercy, prowled like predators, leaving devastation in their wake.

Alexander's gaze narrowed, taking in the scenes of anguish and despair.

Lifeless bodies, strewn upon the ground, testified to the horrors inflicted by the bandits.

Women and children, their faces etched with terror, bore the cruel marks of their tormentors.

The bandits revelled in their dominance, perpetrating acts of unspeakable cruelty with callous indifference.

His men, battle-hardened and accustomed to the harsh realities of their world, struggled to suppress their righteous anger, but this was Pandoras' truth.

The bandits' transgressions against the innocent defied the very essence of humanity.

Their hearts had grown cold, desensitized by the ceaseless exposure to the life that pervaded their existence.

In a world full of restriction how would a lawless world hold?

*Vomit*

"What kind of human does this?" A guard commented shocked.

"Bandits... Seems like it's your first time seeing the aftermath of one. I lost my family to these fuckers." A seasoned guard voiced, his eyes gleaming at the sight.

"It feels, weird seeing this all in person." A young guard murmured. 

"Sir, these fucking bandit bastards have gone too far!"

"We can't stand still while they continue this. Lives are being shattered, and innocence is obliterated. We have to keep moving forward."

Alexander remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed upon the harrowing scene before him. His reputation as a morally ambiguous figure was well-established, his actions guided primarily by self-interest.

"So what are you going to do about it?" Alexander inquired.

The men paused at his words, their minds rummaging for an answer, they couldn't help but voice their complaints. 

The horrors it was all far too familiar to them. The injustice and the uncaring slaughter of lives, it was all too close to home. 

Joshua glaring at the scene knew what he had to do, his heart calling him to the truth.

"My brothers, truly I tell you! Is this not injustice?" Joshua voiced.

"We will fight." The young guard answered, his eyes determined. The learnt of freedom festering within his heart.

"I ask you all again! What are you going to do!" Alexander heaved.

"We will kill!" He stammered his eyes beginning to glow with purple hue. 

"What will we do!" Alexander smiling scorched, his voice bellowing with vigour.

"We will destroy!"

"We will avenge!"

"We will purge!"

With a fierce determination burning in his eyes, Alexander raised his hand, a dark violet energy crackling around his outstretched fingers.

The souls of the fallen bandits, once twisted and corrupted, were drawn towards him like moths to a flame.

As their life force merged with his own, a surge of power coursed through his veins.

"Show them! Show them that we are worse!" he roared, his voice laced with chilling intensity.

His men, emboldened by his command and driven by their shared desire for vengeance, unleashed a relentless onslaught upon the bandits.

The air was filled with the thunderous roar of gunfire and the clash of steel against steel. Alexander, at the forefront of the battle, wielded his newfound power with lethal precision.

Bandits fell like leaves in a storm, their screams of terror and pain echoing through the chaos.

Their once menacing presence was now overshadowed by the wrath of Alexander and his soldiers.

The souls of the fallen, their essence now bound to Alexander's will, fought alongside him, their ethereal forms tearing through the ranks of their former comrades.

Each soul absorbed only served to fuel Alexander's insatiable hunger for retribution.

His power grew with every fallen bandit, his dominance over life and death becoming increasingly absolute.

It was a grim spectacle, a macabre dance of souls and violence, as Alexander's unyielding will met the desperate cries of those who had wrought destruction upon the innocent.

The bandits, once filled with swagger and arrogance, now cowered before the overwhelming force they had provoked.

Their ranks began to crumble, their morale shattered by the realization that they were facing a power far greater than their own.

Fear and desperation painted their faces, a stark contrast to the malice they had once displayed.

As the battle raged on, Alexander's assault grew even more relentless.

His actions spoke of a dark justice, a punishment that transcended the mere act of killing.

With each fallen bandit, their souls were torn from their bodies, leaving behind empty husks of flesh. It was a fate worse than death, condemnation to eternal nothingness.

The bandits, now overwhelmed and broken, attempted to flee, but there was no escape from the relentless pursuit of Alexander and his men.

Their fate had been sealed the moment they had chosen to sow chaos and misery.

With each retreating bandit, Alexander unleashed one final act of vengeance, their souls ripped from their bodies, ensuring that none would survive to spread their cruelty anew.

As the dust settled and the echoes of battle faded, Alexander stood amidst the wreckage of the bandit's defeat.

His men, their faces stained with blood and sweat, gathered around him, their gazes filled with a mix of awe and trepidation.

They had witnessed the depths of his power, and it had forever changed them.

As the dust settled and the echoes of battle subsided, Alexander stood amidst the wreckage of the bandit's defeat.

His men, their faces smeared with sweat and traces of blood, gathered around him, their expressions a mix of awe and apprehension.

The brutality they had witnessed had left an indelible mark upon their souls, a realization of the dark power that resided within their leader and themselves.

Drawing a deep breath, Alexander's gaze shifted from the fallen bandits to his loyal soldiers.

There was no triumph in his eyes, only a steely resolve born from the knowledge that their actions had been necessary, if not regrettable.

He spoke with a measured tone, each word carrying the weight of their collective experience.

"Let this serve as a stark reminder," he began, his voice commanding but devoid of fanfare.

"We are the enforcers of this world. In a world stained by chaos, we are its solution. We must mete out retribution where it is warranted, to protect the innocent from those who would prey upon them. I offer you all a chance, to join me on my crusade. A crusade against the lawless world we live in. Join me, my soldiers as we create a better tomorrow." Alexander monlogued. 

"You are my legion!"

His men, their eyes fixed on him, absorbed his words with a solemn understanding.

They had become the instruments of his righteous cause, bound together by the shared burden of their actions.

There was no glorification in their deeds, no celebration of violence. It was simply the harsh reality they had accepted in their pursuit of a semblance of order.

"You have lived and seen what this planet has to offer," Alexander continued, his voice tinged with a hint of weariness.

"But is it not wrong? Is it not just? Continue to fight my men and make what was wrong right, show those who prey on the weak, tremble at our name. We shall become worse than they imagined but greater than humankind can ever comprehend. Our purpose is to strike down the wicked, to safeguard the weak, and to preserve the fragile threads of decency in this forsaken world."

His soldiers, their weariness etched upon their faces, nodded in silent accord.

Though the burden weighed heavily upon them, they knew that their leader's unwavering resolve would guide them through the darkest of times.

There was no room for hesitation or doubt.

Only through their collective strength and unwavering commitment could they hope to make a difference in a world plagued by moral ambiguity.

With a final glance at the battlefield, Alexander turned away, his thoughts consumed by the brainwashing done today.

The propaganda, the hate, it was all but fuel for his agenda of conquest.

The aftermath of their crusade against the bandits for the people served as a solemn reminder of the sacrifices demanded by their chosen path.

Yet, for Alexander, it showcased the humanistic nature of hate.

How he thrived in it. 

In the wake of the battle, the guard's hearts remained heavy, their souls tarnished by the brutal necessity of their actions.

Yet, they pressed forward, driven by the belief that in the face of relentless cruelty, there still existed a glimmer of hope.

It was a hope that fueled their unwavering resolve, compelling them to stand as a bastion of justice in a world teetering on the edge of chaos.

It was in these very moments that Alexander, once feared and reviled as a monstrous entity, underwent a transformation that defied all expectations.

The ruthless conqueror had become an unlikely saviour, an embodiment of redemption amidst the chaos that enveloped their shattered world. A smile crept on Alexanders' lips, a deep satisfaction welled in his soul at the turn of events.

'Soon enough Pandora will be mine.'

Amidst the aftermath of the fierce battle, Alexander scoured the ruins for any sign that could unveil the whereabouts of Sledge's elusive base.

The scent of smoke and burning debris hung heavy in the air, a reminder of the violence that had transpired.

As his eyes swept over the wreckage, Alexander's keen senses honed in on a partially intact console.

The dust settled on his fingertips as he gingerly cleared away the debris, revealing the faint glow of the console's screen. Coordinates etched across the display, a crucial lead to their target: Sledge.

With a resolute look in his eyes, Alexander pocketed the coordinates, knowing that they held the key to confronting their adversary head-on.

He turned to his weary yet determined comrades, his voice steady and commanding.

"Look around you. This is merely the beginning," he began, his voice carrying the weight of their shared experiences.

"Witness the devastation, the lives stolen by these abominable forces. But let not despair cloud your resolve, for today we have obtained the means to strike back. Look at what the universe has given to you, your hands once wielded for a means of survival shall be the key to prosperity. Clench it tightly we shall soon shape the hope of tomorrow."

His words pierced the air, stirring something within his men.

The remnants of doubt were replaced by steely determination, an unwavering commitment to putting an end to the bandit menace.

"Prepare yourselves," Alexander continued his voice a firm anchor amidst the chaos.

"The path ahead will be treacherous, but we march united. Our mission shall be a beacon of hope amidst this desolate terrain."

His soldiers exchanged determined glances, each understanding the weight of their duty.

With every step forward, they embraced the magnitude of their purpose, their weapons serving as symbols of their shared responsibility.

Together, they set off, their engines roaring with malice their voices echoing with purpose. The wind whispered through the barren landscape, carrying with it the echoes of their determination. Guided by their leader and fueled by their collective commitment, they advanced, ready to reshape the fate of their world.

As they ventured deeper into the unforgiving wilderness, they were confronted with the challenges that lay in wait. The journey demanded sacrifice, both physical and emotional, but they pushed onward, fortified by an unwavering belief in their cause.

The soldiers found solace in Alexander's unwavering presence, drawing strength from his unwavering resolve. His concise yet inspiring words resonated within them, guiding their steps and fanning the flames of their determination.

In unison, they embarked on the path before them, treading where few dared to go.

Each stride carried the weight of their purpose, a testament to their unwavering commitment.

The road ahead was uncertain, but they pressed forward, driven by a shared belief that their actions had the power to restore balance and justice.

As they ventured forth, their footsteps echoed through the wilderness, a cadence of warriors marching in unity.

With every breath, they inhaled the hope that permeated the air, letting it fuel their spirits.

They moved forward with conviction, resolute in their mission to vanquish the forces of oppression.

The setting shifted around them, a backdrop of desolation and chaos.

But amid the harshness of their surroundings, the soldiers found strength in their unity and purpose.

Their journey was a testament to their resilience, and their unwavering commitment to confront the challenges that awaited them.

Reaching the abandoned military facility stood as a haunting relic, its corridors lined with rusted metal and shattered glass.

Alexander and his group, shadows in the dimly lit halls, moved with calculated precision.

The air hung heavy with the scent of decay and neglect, a stark contrast to the raw power pulsating within their veins.

As they neared the heart of the facility, the distant rumble of Sledge's voice reached their ears.

The sound was a guttural growl, broken and distorted, a testament to the toll that extreme isolation and steroid abuse had taken on his mind and body.

With each step closer, the group's anticipation mounted.

They knew that confronting Sledge would require more than mere physical strength.

It would demand strategy, exploiting his weaknesses while harnessing their unique abilities.

Sledge, a towering figure with bulging muscles, awaited them in the heart of his stronghold.

His movements were primal, driven by brute force rather than finesse.

His speech stumbled and faltered, a jumbled mix of broken words and grunts, a consequence of his reliance on steroids.

As the clash ensued, the clash of metal against metal reverberated through the facility, punctuated by the occasional thunderous roar from Sledge.

His blows were mighty, but his attacks lacked the finesse and tactical acumen that Alexander and his group possessed.

With each strike, Alexander and his comrades countered with precision and agility.

Their movements were a dance of calculated violence, exploiting the gaps in Sledge's defences and wearing him down.

They fought not just against the physical manifestation of his strength, but against the limitations of his mind, clouded by isolation and the destructive effects of his choices.

The battle raged on, the clash of wills and the exertion of power echoing through the dilapidated walls.

Sledge's roars filled the air, a desperate attempt to intimidate his foes. But the group remained resolute, unyielding in their determination to bring him down.

With each strike, Sledge's once-impenetrable facade began to crumble.

Sweat poured down his face, mingling with the grime that clung to his skin. The strain of his brute force became evident, as his movements grew sluggish and his attacks became predictable.

In a final act of defiance, Sledge unleashed a primal scream, a desperate attempt to regain control over the situation.

But Alexander, fueled by a deep-seated resolve, summoned the full extent of his powers. Wisps of energy swirled around him, as he tapped into his ability to syphon the very souls of his enemies.

A surge of energy coursed through Alexander, his eyes blazing with an otherworldly glow.

He launched himself at Sledge, his movements swift and precise.

As their bodies clashed, the force of Alexander's power overwhelmed Sledge, shattering his defences and leaving him vulnerable.

In a moment of triumph, Alexander delivered the final blow, striking true and bringing Sledge to his knees. The once-mighty bruiser, now broken and defeated, gasped for air, his strength waning.

The battle was over, and the facility fell silent, save for the laboured breaths of the combatants.

The group stood amidst the wreckage, their bodies battered and bruised, but their spirits unbroken

While blood seemed to waffle the field, victory had maintained the atmosphere. 

As the dust settled in the aftermath of the battle, Alexander stood over the fallen Sledge, a sinister glimmer in his eyes.

"How pitifully." He murmured, his gaze cold. 

The defeated bruiser gasping for breath, attempted to fight for consciousness, "Sledge... Will. uGH! SLEDge... Smash!" 

Yet his body was broken and his strength ebbing away. It was at this moment that Alexander's true power emerged, the ability to harness the souls of his enemies.

With wisps of energy swirled around Alexander, he consolidated the energy around his palms.

With his hand extended toward Sledge's trembling form, fingers outstretched as if beckoning for something unseen.

The air grew heavy with anticipation as the energy pulsed and surged, responding to Alexander's command.

The soldiers, their faces a mixture of awe and trepidation, watched in silence as Alexander tapped into the depths of his power.

They had witnessed his abilities before, but this was something altogether different. It was a display of raw, unnerving power that left them in awe and, perhaps, a touch of fear.

As Alexander's hand made contact with Sledge's chest, a surge of energy coursed through both of them.

Sledge convulsed, his eyes widening in terror as he felt a force invading his very essence.

The sounds of his gasps and pleas for mercy echoed through the room, swallowed by the void that seemed to seep into his being.

"Fuck, that feels good."

The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances, witnessing the depths to which their leader would go to exert his dominance.

This was not an act born out of heroism or a desire for justice.

It was a cold, calculated display of power, a chilling reminder of the lengths Alexander would go to achieve his goals.

The room grew heavy with an unsettling aura as the soul-syphoning process continued. Sledge's life force waned, and his once formidable strength diminished to mere flickers of vitality.

It was as if his very essence was being drained, leaving behind an empty shell of what once was.

"NOOooo..."

Alexander's eyes gleamed with a mixture of triumph and a hint of something darker, a hunger that seemed to lurk beneath the surface.

The soldiers watched, their unease growing, as the process reached its culmination.

Sledge's body slumped to the ground, devoid of life, his soul consumed by Alexander's insatiable power.

A silence enveloped the room, broken only by the soft exhales of the soldiers as they processed the unsettling sight before them.

In the silence that followed, Alexander's voice cut through the air, its tone laced with an air of cold certainty. "Remember," he spoke, his words carrying a weight that hung in the air. "We are not bound by the limitations of morality or empathy. Our purpose is greater, and our actions must reflect that."

His soldiers nodded their silence a testament to their understanding.

They had chosen this path, willingly embracing the insanity that Alexander embodied.

The price they paid for their allegiance was a loss of their humanity, a descent into a world where the lines between right and wrong were blurred.

"We shall follow your command." They voiced kneeling, each guard's eyes shining brightly with purple hue. 

Together, they exited the room, leaving behind the lifeless husk of Sledge.

The corridor stretched before them, a path littered with uncertainty and the echoes of their actions.

Alexander stood amidst the remnants of the battle, his guards scattered around him, their eyes filled with weariness and anticipation.

Sledge's stronghold lay in ruins, but the victory did little to ease Alexander's mind. His paranoia, an ever-present companion, gnawed at him relentlessly.

'There must to be more to this plot than this no?'

As he surveyed the aftermath, his gaze shifted from the spoils of war to the guards who busied themselves with looting.

Their enthusiasm for the acquired weapons and trinkets was met with a cautious detachment from Alexander.

He trusted no one completely, not yet.

Every movement, every whispered conversation, raised suspicion within him.

Were they loyal soldiers or potential threats?

Were they driven by their devotion to him or enticed by personal gain?

Alexander's mind raced with questions, his thoughts clouded by doubts that veiled his ability to fully trust his men.

The Vault Key fragment, hidden within the chaos, weighed heavily on his mind.

Its significance and the power it held made it a coveted prize, but revealing its existence to his guards was a risk he couldn't afford to take.

Not yet.

As the guards revelled in their newfound riches, Alexander's piercing gaze swept across their faces, searching for signs of duplicity.

His every sense remained attuned to the subtlest of shifts in behaviour, the slightest hint of treachery.

He was a leader burdened by caution, driven by the knowledge that trust, once broken, was near impossible to mend.

Within the depths of his mind, plans formed and contingencies were devised.

He would observe his guards, test their loyalty through subtle challenges, and evaluate their resolve.

The time would come when he could peel back the layers of secrecy and unveil the full extent of their mission.

Until then, he would keep them at arm's length, his trust guarded behind a fortress of suspicion.

Amid the looting and celebration, Alexander's paranoia remained a steadfast companion.

He knew the dangers that lurked beyond the immediate victory, the threats that whispered in the shadows.

The path forward was treacherous, and he would not allow blind trust to lead them astray.

While the guards continued to revel in their newfound spoils, Alexander's mind remained sharp and vigilant.

The Vault Key fragment, safely concealed within his possession, served as a reminder of the mysteries that lay ahead.

'Interesting, the vault... I wonder just what treasure or treachery lays ahead...'

He would nurture his soldier's loyalty cautiously, watching for any signs of betrayal, until the time was right to reveal the true nature of their mission.

The journey ahead would be perilous, demanding sacrifices and unflinching determination.

Only those who proved themselves worthy would be entrusted with the full weight of their mission.

Returning home Alexander ordered his men away his mind elsewhere.

Sat alone in his private chamber, bathed in the dim glow of a single flickering candle.

Before he lay the prized possession—the fragment of the vault key they had unearthed from Sledge's armoury.

Its shimmering surface captivated his attention, drawing him into its enigmatic depths.

He needed to find someone, an individual capable of unravelling its truth. 

Yet he didn't know a single soul who had the qualifications to denote its hidden meaning.

Silent as a shadow, he observed the guards from a distance.

His mind turned to find the truth in the vault. 

"Man, shit was heavy today." A guard voiced from afar.

"I'm just happy we didn't get hurt. Bastards couldn't even get a shot on me."

"Yeah, was a tough call, guys."

"Listen, drinks on me tonight. I'll get another box from the boss If I can."

"You serious?" 

"I'm serious besides the boss ain't that cold-hearted."

"Look you don't have too, man. I feel like he's on edge ever since..."

"He's human guys, don't be so scared. We're his soldiers, now. Toughen up." 

"Fine, but don't get mad at me when he gets all pissy..." 

Their euphoric voices drifted through the air, their laughter mingling with the clocks and clatters of looted trinkets.

Their jubilation was palpable, an infectious energy that filled the room.

Watching a guard near him, he seemed slightly anxious although firm in his decision to inquire Alexander.

"Ah, hey boss. Me and the boys were wondering if we could get a few drinks for the boys. I know you don't have to but... It's been a long day." The officer voiced.

"What's your name officer?" 

"Jerimiah. Jerimiah Iga." 

"Go." Alexander voiced handing the man a bundle of cash.

"Holy shit! Thanks, man. I mean boss! Holy damn." He smiled waddling away. 

Looking back at the vault key he remains lost in thought once again. Doing so he returned to his office, a few of the guards watching his departing figure. 

Doubt and suspicion crept into his thoughts, weaving a web of caution around his every move.

The artifact held power beyond their comprehension, and he was keenly aware of the dangers it could unleash.

For he knew that even if there was a legitimate treasure inside many corporations would rush to harvest the loot. 

The people of Pandora and himself would be forced back into a corner if tension went high.

His gaze locked onto the ancient symbols etched upon its surface, his fingers tracing their intricate patterns with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

Unbeknownst to him, a guard named Marcus, meticulously chosen and trained by the Atlas Corporation, had infiltrated Fyrestone's ranks.

His past was shrouded in mystery, a life crafted to deceive those around him.

Marcus had been selected for this perilous mission, sent to infiltrate Alexander's inner circle and acquire any information about the fabled vault.

Years ago, Marcus had been a promising field operative for the Atlas Corporation, honing his skills in espionage and subterfuge.

His loyalty to the corporation had been unwavering, his actions were always carried out in service of their grand ambitions.

And now, assigned to this crucial task, Marcus stood on the precipice of a mission that could define his career.

The mission's objective was clear: infiltrate Fyrestone, gain Alexander's trust, and unearth any secrets related to the vault key.

The Atlas Corporation believed that the vault held immense power, capable of reshaping the world as they knew it.

Marcus had been trained to be a master of disguise, blending seamlessly into his surroundings, his true allegiance concealed beneath a facade of loyalty to Alexander.

As Marcus silently stepped into the room, his heart pounded in his chest, a mixture of excitement and trepidation coursing through his veins.

He carefully observed the fragment of the vault key resting on the table, its enigmatic glow captivating his attention.

The weight of his mission bore down upon him, as he realized that the fate of the corporation rested upon his success.

Alexander, the enigmatic leader of Fyrestone, turned his head ever so slightly, his piercing gaze meeting Marcus's eyes.

A rush of anxiety surged through Marcus's veins, his training kicking in as he maintained his charade.

He knew that the slightest slip could jeopardize everything—the trust he had carefully built, the secrets he had been tasked to uncover.

The silence between them grew palpable, a battlefield of unspoken truths.

Alexander's eyes gleamed with an understanding that belied Marcus's every move. W

ith a nod from Alexander, Marcus broke eye contact, his facade intact, and he silently retreated from the chamber.

As the door closed behind him, Marcus's mind raced with a mixture of doubt and determination.

He questioned his loyalty, torn between the duty to his corporation and the glimmers of doubt that had started to flicker within his conscience.

Marcus's past actions, once fueled by unwavering loyalty, now seemed muddled in shades of grey.

As he traversed the corridors of Fyrestone, his footsteps echoed with uncertainty.

The Atlas Corporation's ambitions and the potential consequences of their relentless pursuit of the vault weighed heavily on his shoulders.

In the depth of his soul, Marcus knew that the choices he would make in the coming days would shape not only his destiny but also the fate of Fyrestone and the world beyond.

As the spy ventured further into the abyss of deceit and treachery, the lines between loyalty and betrayal blurred.

Marcus was a pawn caught in a game of giants, torn between the secrets he had sworn to protect and the whispers of doubt that now echoed within his very being.

Alexander's smirk grew wider as his eyes locked onto Marcus.

He nodded subtly, a silent acknowledgement of his earlier suspicions about the presence of a damn spy in their midst.

With a nonchalant wave of his hand, he motioned for Joshua to join him in a secluded corner, away from prying eyes and wagging tongues.

"Hey, Joshua," Alexander began, his voice dripping with deceptive ease, "My gut feeling wasn't wrong."

Joshua's brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing as he processed the implications of Alexander's words.

He knew better than to question his leader's instincts, especially when it came to sniffing out trouble.

The man was a demon with supernatural power who was he to say something about a gut feeling?

"So, what's the plan? Are we going to confront him or are we going to kill him?"

"Wrong we're going to torture him."

"I understand..."

"You ever heard the tale of John Marston?"

"No, I can't say I have," Joshua responded amused.

"When you trust the law and betray your past. It finds its way back, no matter how much you cover it. A betrayal can only be met with one back, as every action equals an opposite and equal reaction. This is the nature of law."

Sitting with one another both sat silently pondering on the recent events. The moral capacity of the guardsmen was broken, and his crusade was about to begin. A storm was brewing and he watched smiling at its conjuration. For while Atlas may have stirred it, he would envelop it under his forces.

"You're saying that he'll get double-crossed by his backers?"

Alexander smiling at the lack of depth merely shook his head at the hidden message.

"Whether he likes it or not. He now knows too much, he'll get thrown out with the rest of them. It's how they do their business."

"You know it first hand?" He asked pondering Alexander's background.

"When you see it once - it's a coincidence; twice, it's a pattern."