Hey folks, time for a random new piece. I really thought I was going to take a writing break, but this idea got stuck in my head. This is much darker than my normal MO, so I probably won't continue with this even though its set up to be a prologue unless I get feedback requesting more. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think “You know, I am constantly amazed by the minutia that the Cryptarchs take time to catalogue.” The man brought a bent, hand-rolled cigarette to his lips and took a long breath in. Those lips were thin, ghastly so, as if every amount of water and fat had been drained from his face. It left a localized wrinkling so severe that it seemed his mouth may give way to dust at any moment. He continued to speak, letting white smoke billow out of his mouth and nostrils and leaning in closer to his audience. “Hell, I wouldn’t have known of Virginian soil to grow tobacco without them.” There were others in the room, spread along the shadows. They were vigilant, but ignored any context of the conversation. In return, the smoking man sat in the middle of the room across from a lithe Exo and ignored them outright. “It was glorious though; you have to imagine it. My associates,” he glanced around the room at the partially concealed figured, “They have always found my behavior slightly… Off-putting.” He waved a skeletal hand towards no one in particular, but received a response nonetheless. There was a click and the massive Plasteel manufacturing machines behind the Exo began to whir to life. The man took another drag and then had to shout over the new racket, “They didn’t have a word for it, someone so gregarious and with such morbid curiosity. The Cryptarchs came through for us again though. Sociopath.” The word sprang from those desiccated lips with near glee, the same tone as a child first learning to say its own name. On the other hand, his eyes, a rusted brown, remained impassionate. “I’ll spare you the details, but it’s absolutely perfect for me. The term suggests a person described as such lacks an ability to empathize with their peers, which often results in a penchant for violence, but also enhanced abilities in the world of manipulation.” He tossed his cigarette aside and stood up. The gaunt man was only dressed in a ratty, stained white shirt and pants that had faded from maroon to a dirty red. “Can you believe it? Who else in the City is going to need that one little iota of information?” There was a long, brooding pause during which he studied the Exo. She had been stripped naked, not that revealed anything of note. Female Exos only had slighter builds when compared to their male counterparts, nothing explicit as less informed might expect. Her chassis was painted black and white just like the black and white Earth and Moon emblem just below the clavicle, showing allegiance with a simple glance. She wasn’t bound, but her tension was just as plain to see as her faction affiliation. The man finally shouted in his gravelly voice, “Well? Seraph-3, I asked you a question!” The woman prolonged the pause, letting the hum of the Plasteel refinery fill the silence between them. She finally replied just loud enough to be heard, “Look, I don’t know who you are! Just let me go and I won’t bring this before the Consensus.” The man’s eyes twitched very briefly before a smile crept onto his lips, unnatural and broken. “That didn’t answer my question, dear; though, I guess it doesn’t matter.” He stepped directly in front of the Exo and squatted so they could be eye to eye. “This probably seems like ham-fisted exposition, huh? As if I’m putting on a one man play for an audience, maybe the men in this room? Maybe someone else?” He carefully, gingerly took her hand in one of his and then used his other to rest just above the wrist. It was as if he were consoling a loved one and he continued in such a tone, “No, this is my way of explaining that what I do, what I’m doing today… While I get a great amount of pleasure out of it, I also take it very seriously.” With that, he stood up and ripped the woman out of her chair, now only holding onto her by the one had above her wrist. Seraph screamed out, “What are you doing?! Leave me alone!” She tried pulling back, but the man was much stronger than his frail form would suggest. Instead, she lost her footing and slid along the floor, dragging behind him. She yanked with both arms, trying to free herself, only to look up and see a series of giant, interlocking cogs used to flex Plasteel back and forth until rigid. “No! You-” Her complaints were cut off by her own scream of agony. The man had shoved her hand into the cog and watched as the machine locked the Exo’s hand in between the iron teeth and pulled it father in, slowly crushing Seraph’s digits into pure scrap metal. Her scream was piercing, enough to elicit an immediate headache for him, but, as promised, he was focused. He turned to face the woman as more of her hand was pulled in and pulverized, no matter how hard she tried to free herself. He yelled over the machine and her pain, “Where is the fleet?” “What? I…” The Exo’s mind whirled with pain, trying to process all of the warnings going through her various CPUs. She pulled at her arm with all of her strength as she screamed back, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” His face crinkled into a mask of disgust and he yelled with pure rage, “Come on, Seraph! You’ve already lost most of one hand; don’t test me. Everyone knows you people are gathering a fleet. All I want to know is where it is.” There was a loud snap as the Exo’s forearm snapped in half down its length; though, she was still being pulled in. “W-we’re… Not that far… Along. Just a few at the Tower and docked… in the City; check the logs, they’re-” She was cut off by another one of her own screams. “You’re lying.” He shook his head and started pacing back and forth. “Here you are getting ready to die, no Ghost to revive you, and you’re lying to me? You’re really going to die for a handful of nearly derelict ships?” Seraph screamed, “I don’t know! They don’t tell anyone!” “Who are they?” What was her bicep fed into the cogs, crushing into shards and pulling her face ever closer. “The Arachs! They wouldn’t tell someone like me! Please!” Her words became more akin to a human weeping with the odd digital tones of an Exo. The man’s response was to sigh and walk back to his chair, lifting a coat up and donning it. Seraph pleaded, “Where are you going? I told you I don’t know anything!” He slumped his shoulders and replied without turning to face her, “I know; that’s why this is boring. You’re absolutely no help at all.” He began to walk out of the room with the others present following closely behind. The Exo screamed profanities, she pleaded, she begged, but the man kept walking. In her hysteria though, she did manage to see the symbol on the back of his cloak, a white triangle with three red slashes inside. It was a fleeting realization though; he walked from the room and eventually the factory into the bright summer day. It wasn’t too far however. He still managed to hear the massive crack as the Exo’s skull casing broke apart.