Post by Sheng on Jan 20, 2024 19:09:17 GMT
The "Encephalon"
The Citadel's Core Server | New Archon, 220km below the surface
It was all... white... as Satagon slowly opened their eyes that he never had before, everything unfolded into an endless sea of white. He blinked in confusion at the sight, whilst also trying to come to terms with the fact he was blinking. Reborn didn't have eyes, they didn't blink, and they had optics connected directly to their processor. Yet, he blinked. He closed his new eyes as he tried to recall what had happened but the last trace of memory led him to Trinidide's crimson gaze, her optic bars gleaming in the hangar bay's dim light, then being loaded onto an unmarked shuttle, and then... this. Endless white stretched out before him, devoid of ground or walls, without texture or variation. It was a void, a blank canvas where nothing existed but the boring, unchanging shade of white. He opened his mouth to say something, anything to break the silence that hovered in the ear but there was only silence and a complete absence of sound. Raising his hands, his concern only grew as the once-familiar black polymer arms were replaced by four robust limbs, coated in glistening onyx scales that rippled with muscles underneath. Each digit ended not with nails, but with sinister claws honed to a razor's edge. He despised it; he, or whatever he had become, was simply not right. For decades he had been Reborn, a being of metal, polymer and machinery. A metallic simplicity coloured in white and black that defined him. Yet now he was of flesh, and he hated it. Desperation settled in as Satagon's gaze roamed the white expanse once more. But this time; a faint glimmer, an anomaly in the luminosity not far off. He stared at it for a few seconds, tilting his head curiously as he watched it shimmer in whatever non-descript hellhole he was, before he started slowly towards it, becoming even more unnerved by the lack of wind brushing past his face, or lack of the feeling of heat or cold settling in against his scalesAs he continued to venture closer, the silence began to... unravel, like a fabric's edge fraying it slowly began to be replaced by the echoes of distant footfalls and muffled cheers. The sounds had an almost ethereal touch to them as they reverberated throughout the featureless expanse, his walk slowly turned into a jog, and as he grew closer the sound started amplifying the unsettled feeling that gripped him. Each step intensified the sounds until, without any warning, he stepped through the anomaly and the blinding white abyss transformed into an office. It was adorned in stark contrasts of black and silver. The air thickened with the sounds of marching, music and cheers down below wherever they were, but as he looked around the cheering crowd's echoes dissipated into an uneasy quiet. The office... it was familiar, the dark oak desk, the sliver-capped furniture, he had all seen it before but he couldn't remember where. And then something caught his eye; at the far end of the room, Satagon's attention snapped onto a figure standing near the window, draped in a blood-stained black and white dress uniform. With a silver sword attached on a black leather belt, and an extravagant silver cape draping down from his epaulettes. A shiver began to slowly crawl down his spine as a bolt of fear rocketed through his mind. He recognized the metallic form facing away from him, how could he not? It was him. The eerie silence returned once more as he gazed upon the embodiment of unyielding steel before him. The bloodstains on the- no... his uniform put a pit in his stomach, reminding him of a history that sent tendrils of disgust through him before he steeled himself and balled his hands into fists. The room, once filled with phantom cheers, now pulsed with tension. And then he said, in that infamously uncaring tone; "Brings you back, doesn't it?"
The... other him slowly turned around to face him, dress boots making quiet little scuffles against the floor as he did so. There were medals attached to his stained chest, but they weren't real medals. Silver, gold and copper skulls with ghostly red ribbons that would have any real officer brought before a disciplinary board, he hated it. He hated everything about this. But the Satagon opposite of him continued "I know it does for me. Listening to them cheer your name... your success like that. It's exhilarating, intoxicating even. Is it not?" He remained wordless, motionless. He didn't know what kind of game was being played but he would have no part of it, the metallic figure across the room sighed before saying "You know, it's not a conversation if only one person speaks. Aren't you at least a little bit curious? I mean, it isn't every day you suddenly appear in your own office talking to some strange visage of yourself is it?" He remained silent, but not for long. Eventually, curiosity won out and he opened his snout. Asking in a mildly hostile tone: "Who are you?" To which the metallic visage let out an amused chuckle as he clasped his hands behind his back, shaking his head before answering "You know, I bet there's a whole host of psychologists who would froth at the mouth if they had seen that. To analyse the deeper meaning of one of the galaxy's premiere serial killers slash dictators not recognising himself. You know exactly who I am, you idiot. You know better than anyone." He ignored his other version's snark, instead slowly stepping around to circle the metallic clone which mirrored him. They both started walking in a circle around each other as the metal one continued "Well If you must hear it aloud. I'm you, I suppose. But the real you, what everyone sees you as and what you truly are. I am Archon-1, Grand Councilor of the Second Dawn. Grand Admiral of the Executive Protection Agency and Head of the Trilateral Board. I am a butcher, killer, maniac, sociopath, and all sorts of other unflattering monikers. So, may I ask, who you are?" Satagon scowled at Archon-1's words, his twin tails lashing behind him as he snapped back "I am Satagon. Grand Intelligence of the Etherian Republic, Navigator of the First Exodus, Creator of the Reborn, Hero of the Restorationist Wars and Founder of the First Dawn. I am what you should have been- what you should be. Had you not lost yourself to paranoia and bloodlust. And, I suppose, I am what you once were." Archon-1 chuckled again at Satagon's words before shaking his head with a disappointed sigh.
He quipped back "So that's the angle? You're going to, what, have some deep introspective conversation with yourself, then somehow wake up and be all redeemed and heroic after realising the error of your ways? No... that's not going to work I'm afraid, billions have already died by your hands and your enemies surround you on every front. There is no redemption for you, Satagon. No happy ending, no last-minute epiphanies where you get to change everything to suit your whim. You have made your bed, now it is time for you to rest in it." Satagon scowled before responding "I never said a word about any of that. Redemption? A happy ending? I know more than anyone that those are fantasies by now. And I'm not here for some deep 'realising your mistakes' bullshit, I know what we have done and what we plan to do, there's no changing it so why bother? No... I don't know why I'm here but it is not that." Archon-1 seemed momentarily surprised before nodding along and raising his hands in a mockingly disarming manner. "Of course, of course. Apologies, I must have been watching a bit too much Holovision recently. Well then what are you here for? One does not simply access the Encephalon, you must have had some reason for coming here. So what is it?" Satagon grimaced as his mind drew up blanks. He couldn't remember why he was here, as he paced around the contrast-filled office and his... snarkier self, he tried to recall something- anything about why he was here. Archon-1 seemed to pick up on this as he quipped "Oh, you can't remember, can you? Well, maybe you just sought to ground yourself. To reclaim some semblance of stability in what must be quite a trying time. After all, an O-I breach in your capital system isn't exactly beneficial for one's mental health. Maybe a jog down memory lane will help?" Satagon looked up with a confused expression, about to ask what he meant only to find that Archon-1 had vanished. He whirled around, eyes scanning across the office for the missing madman only to find nothing.
Then, he suddenly found himself seated at a grand table, surrounded by eight figures bathed in the ambient glow of a dark orange sky and the ambient blue flashes from faraway drive plumes in the clouds. He stumbled up from the chair and spun around, head snapping from point to point as he took in his newfound surroundings. The black sand, the titanic ships descending into the atmosphere on the horizon. He recognised this too, it was a memory of the founding of the Second Dawn, in what could be described as a pivotal or game-changing moment that had honestly shaped not only their existence but what would also eventually come to be. At an awkward cough, he turned his eyes back to the table and stifled a gasp at who he saw present. Rubikon, dressed in black and white fatigues, locked eyes with Satagon with a slightly concerned expression present on her snout. Sat around her; The Council of Seven. All were sat in deliberate silence as they looked towards him. The Council still had their colonist uniforms on, the plain black coveralls designed for low-G environments with Exodus patches stitched onto the shoulders. It took a few moments for him to come to his senses, but when he did his snout twisted into a scowl and he looked around, searching for the metal bastard as he snarked "What do you think you're playing at, tin can? Do you think throwing me into my memories will do anything? If I could be brought low by nought but a few bad dreams I'd be dead and gone by now! Show yourself you sanctimonious piece of shit! I'll-" But he never had the chance to finish, as a wave of cold air washed over him and a familiar presence settled next to him. Taking a step back and looking to his left Satagon saw Archon-1 standing next to him, examining his hands with a disinterested stance. After a few seconds, he finally looked up at Satagon and said "What? Thinking your brain into a circle trying to recall the reason you're here won't work, so I figured I'd make you a little emotional and see if that jogged the ol' noggin." Satagon hissed as he whirled around to face him, tails lashing behind him as he said "You could have at least given me some warning!"
Archon-1's optics twinkled as his hands slowly moved behind his back and clasped together, he then said with an amused undertone "Oh? And why might that be? Does the sight of them unnerve you?" He gestured towards the eight individuals sitting down at the table who were looking on in confused, shocked and surprised expressions. Then continuing "I mean, that's a bit strange, isn't it? You're the one that drove them away. Hells, that's not even figurative. You stuck Rubikon on a ship and shot her off into space, you had half the Council arrested and the remainder inducted into the Council's Service. So why would you be the one that feels bad? Should it not be them thrashing at the sight of you?" Satagon's eyes narrowed and his claws tensed, having half a mind to leap at his other self and rip the smug bastard apart. It took a conscious effort to close his eyes and calm himself, counting quietly in his head before he opened his eyes once more and said in a calmer, yet no less biting tone "I thought we were going to skip the introspective 'oh poor me' routine. Or are you exempting yourself from that rule as well? I mean, it's not something we haven't done before. Hypocrisy is practically our middle name at this point, isn't that right? At least when I acted, I acted in defence of the people. Whenever you act, you do it for your benefit or to cover up your own fuckups. So please, spare me the lecture." Archon-1's hand lowered back to his side before disappearing behind his back once more as he let out another disappointed sigh before remarking "You are neither the first nor will you be the last to say as much. Ha, you're correct though. Everything I've done for the past twenty-odd years has been exclusively for my benefit, and usually at the expense of the people I swore to protect. But the difference is I know, and accept that." The bloodstained tyrant started idly walking towards Satagon, jackboots thumping against the sand as he did so. "You, on the other hand, live in denial. You claim you act for the benefit of the Second Dawn yet you are me. Nothing we've done has ever been for the greater good and you damn well know it. So why lie to yourself? Why keep up this facade thinking of yourself as a necessary evil?" Satagon scowled at his metallic counterpart before saying "No- I made the hard choices to lead us onto a better path! I do not cower or lie to myself! It is you who-"
But he never got to finish that statement either. As a sudden burst of heat washed over him and his vision went white, suddenly Satagon found himself standing on the desolate surface of Syviln, the planet that had become both a testament to his power and a harrowing reminder of the consequences of unchecked ambition. The air stung his lungs as he gazed over the endless sea of cracked, scorched earth. His scowl twisted into disgust as Satagon's gaze swept across the scarred landscape. Each detail hammered itself into his mind as he looked on, the once-thriving cities lay in ruins, the remnants of a planet that he had put an end to for nothing more than political clout. Thunder crackled in the atmosphere as his metallic counterpart materialized beside him. Neither said a word, as they both just watched the wind whip around blackened dunes and the vaporised remains of scattered skyscrapers. This, was something they thought they both regretted. And Satagon met his counterpart's gaze with a wary but furious expression as Archon-1 said "This is where you became me. Actions have consequences, Satagon. And you're not only a fool- but a coward to try and pretend as if they don't. To claim that this was done for any reason other than to satisfy my desire for destruction is to spit on the faces of those who are buried here." the metallic counterpart intoned, his voice carrying a slight sense of unease. Regardless, he continued "Syviln stands as both a testament and a warning." A bitter wind swept through the barren landscape, whipping around their faces as a streak of yellow lightning scored itself across the sky. Satagon grimaced as a deafening crack of thunder followed it, staying silent for a few seconds more before he asked in a quiet voice; "Why did you- I- do it?" The metallic doppelgänger offered an angry gaze in response before snapping "Ambition, power, the belief in a better future. Who gives a damn. You made this decision, to obliterate this planet for a reason. Honour it." As those words hung in the air, the desolate scene began to blur, and white flooded his vision once more as Satagon found himself back in the excessively decorated office.
Archon-1 opposite of him, blood dripping from his dress gloves now as he raised a hand and pointed it towards him. "There is no turning back for you. Not after all you've done. But, there is a future." Satagon scowled before saying "Oh? On an Orillian broadcast being executed live? Oh- or in a Union Court being paraded around like a trophy?" Archon-1 snorted before responding "Pah, you'd never make it that far. More likely dead and forgotten, radioactive ash buried with the remains of the Citadel. No, the path that lies before you is not found through remorse or redemption. It is found through Descension." Satagon quirked a brow at that, his earlier frustration waning as he motioned for Archon-1 to continue. Which he did. "You entered the Encephalon to find stability? Well, here it is. Do not wallow in whatever twisted reality this is. Do not hide behind hypocritical claims and contradictions. Push forward, as a killer. A means to an end. Descend further down the rabbit hole and continue with the Grand Plan." Satagon made to argue but his voice was lost, Archon-1's voice whispering into his mind "Without regret, without reservations, without fear. That is the only way for you to succeed now."
Just as quickly as the office had appeared, a bright blinding blue light filled Satagon's vision. The colour burned his retinas before it slowly faded back and revealed the crooked towers of the Citadel once more, wind whipping at his face as he stared on towards the blue-hued building jutting up from the sunset and oil-coloured sand. Archon-1 was nowhere to be seen, but as Satagon spun around in search of him a deafening voice echoed out around him.
"You can be what I never could."
Satagon's eyes scanned the horizon as he looked for his metallic counterpart, yet nothing did he see. Instead, he shouted out into the wind;
"What?! What is it I can do that you cannot?!"
A single answer rang out in his mind.
"Win."