Callsign MANE VI: Twilight

by Col_StaR

Chapter 3: Departure

The elevator wasn’t moving fast enough. Every second that ticked by was another second closer to tardiness. Twilight’s attention was fixed on the floor indicator as the elevator crawled to the garage floor. With their departure fast approaching, she ran through the checklist of details in her head.

Proper appearance? Twilight meticulously inspected her appearance in the reflection of the stainless steel doors. A few wrinkles in her charcoal uniform jacket were straightened out, along with a few clashing creases in her dress pants. The bags under her eyes felt worse than they looked, but they would disappear as the day progressed. She combed her fingers through her hair, segregating the streak of rose-dyed hair from its natural jet-black counterparts. She looked prim and proper, as always. Check.

Computer with the mission briefing? The tablet was held snugly under her arm. From the dossier program, she had spent much of the night memorizing every portent detail from the briefing, so its inclusion was probably unneeded. Regardless, the battery was fully charged and ready for immediate access. Check.

Assistant ready? Even as a boy, he was never a morning person. Spike struggled to keep his eyes open, and his barely-conscious body wavered from side to side. To keep himself from falling asleep, he kept sipping from a water bottle full of orange juice; he hoped the sugar would keep him awake. Some things never change. Check.

Correct time and location? The elevator slowed to a stop as her watch struck 0400. ‘G4’ flashed on the screen. A bell chimed innocently. And her reflection was split down the center as the steel doors opened before them. As soon as the doors opened, Twilight could feel Cell’s omniscient gaze upon her. Check.

Everything was accounted for.

The motorcade was assembled and waiting, a line of five ceramic-white SUVs parked along the curb. Units of royal guardsmen huddled around their team leaders as they holstered their HK45 pistols, buttoned up their nobel-grey suit jackets, tightened their ties, and checked their earpieces. The drivers were conversing amongst each other, checking routes and confirming checkpoints on their in-car GPS units. The communications specialist and technical specialists ran last-second diagnostics on the instruments installed into their antennae-laden vehicle. And Cell stood serenely in the center of it all, waiting for her student’s arrival. The girl bowed to her teacher and stood at attention, as was their tradition.

“You’re right on time, Twilight,” Cell replied, “Are you and your assistant ready to depart?”

Twilight glanced over to Spike, who was struggling to stand with so little energy. She hoped Cell wouldn’t notice the orange juice bottle protruding rudely from his jacket pocket. “Yes ma’am,” she answered confidently.

“Before we depart, I have made a modification to your assignment. Hold out your left hand.”

Twilight didn’t hesitate to obey. She held out her hand as instructed. Suddenly, a handcuff snapped around Twilight’s left wrist. The arms shut like a trap around the student’s slender wrist, pinching as it tightened against her skin. Twilight’s hand shook in discomfort as it instinctively tried to escape, but Cell’s grip tightened around her student’s hand as if to threaten to break it.

The woman directed her unwavering gaze over the ailing girl. Her voice lacked sympathy or hesitation. She addressed her student with strict austerity, “This case is now part of your assignment. When the time comes, you are to present it to Luna. Until that time, you must be the one to hold onto it. Wherever you must go, it must go with you. You may not speak of it, nor may you open it. But above all else, you must keep it out of the wrong hands. You now hold the most powerful element in your hand, Twilight. Never let go of it.”

As Cell released the girl’s aching hand, Twilight stifled as the great weight pulled against her. Connected to the Kevlar-lined handcuffs was a curious black case. Despite its compact size, it tugged at her wrist like an iron chain. The texture of its carbon fiber surface was flawlessly grooved, unmarred by protrusions or signs of wear. The symbol of a crescent framed by a hexagon was embossed upon the sides. Underneath the inset handle was a single postage stamp-sized biometric scanner. The mysterious case seemed to whisper into her ear, piquing her curiosity and beckoning her inside.

Twilight’s burning questions were brushed aside the captain of the royal guard, a man she knew only as Captain Light, stepped close beside Cell. In barely more than a mumble, the older guardsman reported that the guardsmen were ready to depart. With a nod and a wave, the leader of the Illuminatus gave the word. The captain relayed orders through the radio, drivers turned on their cars in unison, and guards shuffled to their designated vehicles. The garage was alive with noise and movement. The sudden jolt of activity roused Spike to his senses while Twilight gradually adjusted to her new responsibility. The touch of electricity filled the air and permeated through the tips of her fingers.

“Be ready, Twilight,” Cell said as she stepped into the open door of the SUV, “fate will find you sooner than you know.” And as the door closed, Cell disappeared behind a wall of tinted glass.

Ambiguity was a tool that Cell employed when speaking of the past, a measure of security that reminded Twilight of her need-to-know information basis. But she was always direct when speaking of the present, especially to her student. Fate and vision were always phrases she used in rhetoric or abstraction, but never before did those words feel so present and substantial in their usage. Such an ominous message perplexed Twilight, filling her with curiosity and fear. What is this ‘fate’ supposed to mean? And what would it find her for?

She was too busy deciphering the message to notice two royal guardsmen coming towards them. As they introduced themselves, Twilight’s train of thought was interrupted.

The older guardsman introduced himself first, outstretching a large, leathered hand. The buzzcut and square shape of his thick head seemed to shrink the size of his eyes, a pair of white marbles completely enveloped by his brown pupils. “Greetings ma’am, sir. My name’s Sledge, unit 3. I’ve been tasked to be your driver for the duration of the mission.” He gave a darkened stare as he shook their hands.

As she turned to meet the younger guardsman, Twilight recognized him, but barely. The man’s likeness was deeply familiar. She could picture him in the many faint memories from years ago: the black hair with streaks of cobalt blue, the square shoulders and athletic build beneath the uniform, the subtle softness to his stone-cold expression. But most of all the strikingly familiar face. Everything clicked when she heard him say, “Hello, Twilight.”

“Hello again, Shining Armor.” As they shook hands, Twilight and Armor recognized the smile on the others’ face: they had learned it from the best, and they wore proudly in her memory.

“And I’m Spike!” the boy said boisterously. He puffed out his brazen chest as if to mimic the proud form of the guardsmen, who were easily twice his size and ten years his older. His gregarious, sharp-toothed grin only emphasized his adolescence. Armor shook Spike’s hand; Sledge made no such gesture.

“Pleasantries aside, the convoy is waiting for us. Follow us. Transport’s this way.”

They walked one car behind them to an idling white SUV, the center car in a column of five. Sledge took the driver’s seat and Armor took passenger. Twilight and Spike entered through the center door. A Plexiglas pane separated the front driver’s cabin from the middle passenger cabin, and an impassable retaining wall closed off the cabin from the rear. Despite being sealed from the rest of the car, the siblings were impressed at the cabin’s accommodations. Practically a room on its own, the passenger cabin was built for comfort and luxury, featuring plush leather seats and fine oak trim to distract from the confines of its armored exterior. The siblings took their seats, putting their cargo aside and cozying against the cushions.

In the driver’s cabin, Sledge confirmed the GPS unit was synced with the convoy’s private logistics network. Armor buckled and unbuckled his seatbelt, which chafed against the grip of his HK45. After exchanging looks with each other, and with those in the rear, Sledge nodded his head. He placed finger on his earpiece, removed the parking brake, and gripped his hand on the steering wheel. “Unit 3, ready.” Another second passed as the other units confirmed readiness. The captain gave the green light over the radio, and a light grin came over the veteran guardsman. “And away we go.”

One by one, each car began to pull forward. Spike nearly jumped out of his seat as their vehicle lurched forward. The convoy moved in unison, slithering through the florescent-lit confines of the garage. As they climbed to the top, they passed rows of vacant vehicles, fallen into disuse after over a decade; they seemed to be waiting patiently for their day to come. Soon the convoy came to the garage exit, a trickle of light flowing down the concrete ramp. They were blinded as they ascended to ground level, but their eyes adjusted to the morning’s early splendor.

After so many years, Twilight had grown accustomed to the Institute’s architecture to the point where it felt as mundane as her oatmeal breakfast. But it wasn’t until now, as her departure drew near, did she realize just how spectacular of a sight the Institute was to behold. Inside the towering concrete walls was a city whose shapely spires and patterned glasswork were crafted by both beauty and purpose. Every wall and flowerbed was decorated with squares of Creole marble that would shimmer in the daylight; thin tiles of solar panels covered every square inch of rooftop in a glimmering sheen of deep sapphire. Yet behind the decorative skin of each structure was a network of supports, made of durable alloy that would bond the two halves together through years of wear or warfare. It was a veritable fortress of knowledge and truth, and no expense was spared on proving it. Every building, square, and classroom that composed the massive complex was constructed by the finest architects and construction crews, most of whom were prior or current students of the Institute. But behind the beautiful architecture and durable designs was a simple fact: everything was built to match Cell’s specifications, her vision. The Institute was the pride of the Network, a landmark for themselves, and a stepping-stone into the future; to Twilight, Spike, and many others, the Institute was a place they called “home”.

The wall seemed to grow in stature as they approached. Towering three stories high, the concrete border was lined with guard posts and surveillance equipment. Uniformed security guards, clad in a police vest over their school uniform, watched the convoy approach with both curiosity and intense scrutiny; the braver men and women toed the edge of the sidewalk until they were within arm’s reach of the car, trying to look through the tinted windows. Ahead of them was the front entrance to the Institute, a massive gate of steel and titanium surrounded by the reinforced concrete. They had expected the convoy to stop at the border post, but none of the cars even seemed to slow. Suddenly, the gate was ablaze with activity as alarms chimed, lights flashed, and security guards stood at the ready. Then, unhindered by age or weight, the powerful gate shuddered to life. Neither of them could tear away from the windows as they watched the massive metal guardian inching open to expose the forbidden world beyond.

Creeping through the open maw was as bewildering as it was intimidating. As she crossed the concrete boundary of the Institute, Twilight could feel the physical world shifting in her body and mind. The immensity of the moment was a weight pressing against her chest, stifling her of air. In front of her was a world that she hadn’t seen in ages. Behind her was the world she had always known. And in front of her was a road, ready to take her wherever she needed to be.

Gradually, Twilight acclimated to the new environment. Spike clutched his sister’s hand as they gazed over the landscape. The skies were dark but clear, with inklings of light illuminating the open mountain plains. The fields ran with wild foliage of green and tan, interrupted by jutting rocks and juniper trees. The road was long, empty, and winding, but the view from such height was unobstructed and vast. They felt as if they could see the whole world from atop this mountain.

As they raced down the road towards her destination, a distantly familiar sight greeted her. It was a sign she hadn’t seen in 16 years, from a distant past long behind her. It was sign that both welcomed and warned. For her, it would be a sign for things to come.

The Institute of Military Academics for Guiding the International Community

Even the message was from Cell’s vision.

---

Save for the muffled sirens from the lead vehicle, the car had been silent for quite some time. The guards hadn’t spoken a word since the journey began, keeping their attention on the seemingly endless road. The car gently rocked from side to side, and the placid quiet had lulled Spike back to sleep. The Institute was a world away, and the convoy showed no signs of stopping.

Armor finally broke the silence. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked with a soft tone.

It took Twilight a moment to realize that Armor had directed his question towards her. The window had been calling to her since they left. With every open field and crooked shadow they passed, a feeling of distant remembrance fell over her. Even as she answered, she could not tear her eyes away. “After so many years inside the Institute, you forget about the world beyond it.”

He nodded, “And to think that we’re the first people in over a decade to see it. It’s funny, really. With so many people, and places to see, it makes me wonder why no one’s allowed out here. Especially when it has so much to-”

“Can the philosophy, Armor.” Sledge barked from the driver’s seat, jabbing a finger towards his subordinate. “You’re on shotgun, so keep your gun close and your eyes out for hostiles.”

The optimism was drained from the young man’s face. The frown on his face was unmistakable as he turned back towards the window, “Yes sir. Sorry, sir.”

Sledge grunted in approval. “The view might be nice, but looks can be deceiving. You should know that attacks can come from anywhere, especially out here in the jungle. You’re a royal guardsman of the Illuminatus, a Knight. So start acting like one! Or I’ll have Captain Light strip you of your status and put you back on patrolling the wall.”

Armor stayed submissively silent, but Sledge wasn’t done yet. He looked towards the back seat and projected his voice accordingly.

“Ma’am, I know this is your first time out of the pen, so here’s the only things you need to know while you’re here.” He held a finger over the gap between the seats, waving it blatantly as if she could miss it. “Number one, ‘say nothing’. Number two, ‘do nothing’. And number three? ‘Trust no one.’ Follow those rules, do you job, and we’ll get you home safely.”

She had already been briefed on procedure outside the Institute. Still, she appreciated the review. “Say nothing. Do nothing. Trust no one. Understood, sir.”

Sledge grunted with approval once more. “You’re a smart girl, Twilight, but this place isn’t for someone like you. The people out here may look like you and me, but they certainly don’t behave like you or me. You’d be wise to remember that.”
Armor chirped in, “With all due respect, sir, I disagree. The Network exists to protect society, not control it. Surely some aspect of society is redeemable in Cell’s eyes, or else she wouldn’t work so hard to protect it.”

Sledge’s patience was wearing thin with his subordinate. He turned towards Armor, the groan in his voice grew louder with his rising temper, “You’re right, it exists to protect society. It protects society from itself. Cell might talk of a ‘brighter future’, but look around: it ain’t happening. Theft, famine, and war are all too common out here. The Network exists because we aren’t like them. We are disciplined, educated, and honorable people with creeds and values to live by. The Institute is the last bastion of decency left in this world. And it is our responsibility to keep the outside world from tainting it. The reason why the Institute has those walls isn’t just to keep the barbarians out. It’s to keep misguided students from leaving.” Sledge turned his attention back to the road, but not before getting the last word, “Like your little girlfriend, Caddis.”

The younger guardsman’s vigilant stature wilted to somber. Armor leaned his head against the window, staring at his dismal reflection. “Cadence,” he said to himself, “her name was Cadence.”

Despite Sledge’s willingness to berate his subordinate further, Armor had lost his will to fight. The young man sank ever so slightly into his seat as he surrendered. Silently, he stared at his reflection in the window. As he looked into the world that flashed past his eyes, he couldn’t help but think of her. He half-hoped to see her there, standing by the roadside, with every strand of her tri-colored hair waving free in the gentle wind. He could still picture her perfect smile, framed by the amorous gaze of her lavender eyes. The glowing warmth of her presence would be enough to melt the bitter despair in his heart. And as they drew nearer, all pretense of tradition would be lost in the reunion of old friends. He didn’t need an apology: he needed to see her one last time, to know she was okay. Just as he had waited for her, she was out there, waiting for him. She was out there, somewhere. Somewhere.

Twilight could read his every longing thought and emotion in the guardsman’s eyes. The same feelings began to resonate with her, causing such emotions to bubble up inside of her. But before such weakness overcame her, she forced herself to look away, staring out the window as she had since the trip began. She gazed into the wooded fields that flanked the roads, back into the darkened world that had rejected her and her brother. It reminded her of a simple fact: she was a student of the Institute, nothing less, and nothing more. With the mission fixed in her mind, Twilight remembered what Sledge had told her.

Say nothing. Do nothing. Trust no one. Do your job. And get home safely.

Comments

[MellowMabari]

Hmm, another intriguing chapter. You do some interesting world building, revealing bits so the reader knows enough to understand what's going on while still leaving a lot of questions unanswered - I like it I'm interested to see how you have everyone meet up (as I'm assuming that's what's going to happen) and how they'll interact if Twilight views some of them as different or dangerous because of where they come from. Shining Armour's inclusion was nice as well, and his interaction with his superior really helped get the mindset of Twilight's known world across. So yeah, the rest of this should definitely be interesting. Onward to the next chapter!

[Skeeter The Lurker]

Heh. The most powerful element?

Wonder what that could be.

~Skeeter The Lurker