VOXISTALE: Novel Edition

Chapter 67

Gregory quickly stood up from the table, wiping away the tears on his face as he took a step back, hearing voices coming from down the corridor, talking quickly and quietly. He only hoped it wasn't Krashna. He couldn't stand that kid. The longer he listened, the closer the voices got. It was clearly a conversation between a man and a woman, but the door to the chamber was shut, and he couldn't quite make their words out . . . but on the bright side, neither voice sounded like Krashna.

He stood there awkwardly for a few moments, making sure it didn't look like he'd recently been crying before two people walked in. One was a large figure with shaggy azure hair and a constant scowl on his face. A lit cigarette sat in his mouth as he listened to the blonde girl beside him talk, her magenta eyes covered by a pair of shades that Gregory could barely see through. Neither even looked at Greg as they walked by him and approached a console on the far side of the room, powering it up. "We can't keep going out on these hunting missions for rumors anymore. The leaders need to see that we're needed here." The woman was saying as the man folded his arms, staring at the screen, remaining silent.

Greg was confused; did they even realize he was here? Were they ignoring him intentionally, or was whatever they were discussing just that important? He didn't really know how to feel. Maybe it was for the best that the Messiah didn't want to harass him for once. "You know, I hear they're already launching Phase 1.2 soon," the girl continued. "We aren't a part of it, obviously. We'll probably be out on another mission like that last one, again." The console finished waking up, and the blue-haired man began typing away at the keyboard as the woman continued, apparently very used to his silence.

"Next thing you know, they'll send us out to find Bigfoot or something. I mean, sure, there's potential it's a feral monster like the snake-people we killed in Greece, but there's no evidence to support Bigfoot. Oh, or maybe they'll send us after Nessie next. Maybe Count Dracula." Her tone was incredibly sardonic.

Greg swallowed. "I'm gonna have to look for cryptids?" he asked, immediately regretting speaking as the blonde turned her head to eye him, the blue-haired man still not saying anything, taking a puff of his cigarette.

"Gregory," the woman stated, eyeing him for a moment. "Typical of Krashna to pick some scrawny little kid he can push around. Do you know what you're getting into?"

Greg scratched his arm awkwardly. "Uh . . . I'm here against my will."

"Classic Krashna, can't even pick out a loyalist," the woman rolled her eyes. "I am Arrow. This talkative little ball of fluff here is Ravager. To answer your question: yes. Where do you think legends come from? You think Greek mythology is fictional, don't you? Wrong. We've fought a gorgon before. Cryptids are just a subspecies of monsterkind. A feral version. Most, anyway, some are fictional."

"Um . . . are you the other SPECs?" Gregory asked. "I thought you'd both be . . . well, scarier."

"I could say the same to you," Arrow shrugged, walking over and sitting down at the table, attention fixed on the screen.

"And . . . Krashna's gonna make me go and fight those feral cryptids with you two?" Greg swallowed, processing this. He was having a hard time believing any of this was true.

"Maybe later. From what I hear, Krashna himself is stepping in for the next phase of our plans, and he's dragging you along with him." Arrow stated, and turned back to Ravager. "Finished logging the mission yet?"

A couple seconds passed, before he took a step back, shutting the console off, giving the girl a nod. He then turned to Gregory, eyed him for a moment, before extending a hand. "Go ahead and shake it before he decides he doesn't like you," Arrow advised. "Don't worry, he doesn't bite that hard."

Greg nervously extended his own hand, wincing as he felt Ravager's tight and crushing grip, feeling like every bone in his hand was getting rearranged. "Listen, kid, I've got some advice for you," Arrow offered as Gregory managed to get his hand back. "You have the same look I did when I was first recruited. Fear. Hesitance. Anger. Sorrow. Do you want to escape?"

Greg froze- if he said yes, would they snitch to Krashna? "I'll take that as a yes," Arrow folded her arms. "Take it from me; there's no escape. Your best bet is to do what your leader says and pray that you get used to what goes on around here. Okay?"

"Has anybody ever tried to escape?" Greg asked, tucking his throbbing hand into his armpit.

"During my time here? No. But I've heard stories. The last people who tried to escape were chased down all the way to the Bahamas. And they were killed. Being in the Messiah, whether by choice or not, is a life sentence."

The boy gulped, feeling the familiar clench of his guts in his fear and anxiety. "Oh . . ."

"We'll see you around," Arrow patted his shoulder before she and Ravager left the room, leaving Greg alone to think about this revelation.

"Did you like your fellow SPECs?" a voice called from the corner of the room after several minutes. Greg's eyes darted around, quickly detecting Krashna standing, leaning against the wall with his arms folded.

". . . They were alright," Greg replied, feeling his mouth grow dry. He blinked, and the golden-eyed boy was gone. At least, he thought so until he felt the hand on his shoulder from behind.

"Listen," the boy began, "I'm sending you back home. If you were to suddenly go missing, your friends would become suspicious, and might even skip out on Homecoming . . . but once it's all over, you'll be permanently relocated here. Understood?"

". . . Understood," Gregory said quietly. Would he be here forever? Never allowed to see his family ever again? He didn't want the Messiah to become his new family. There was just no way to accept that.

"I'll have somebody escort you home in secret—can't have you revealing our location until you're fully inducted." Krashna stated, before turning and disappearing through the doorway.

When Gregory opened the front door to his home, he found his mother standing anxiously near the entrance. She stared at him for a moment, but no words were shared as he made his way past her, trudging into his room, closing the door behind him, and collapsing on his bed, feeling sick to his stomach.

"What am I gonna do . . ." He groaned quietly, grabbing his phone off his nightstand and turning it on. His friends had been trying to get a hold of him all day apparently, and they'd gone to Grillby's, as well as met Gerson. He only felt worse as he turned the device off, closing his eyes as he felt tears beginning to well in them. There was only one thing he could do.

For the sake of his family . . . he'd have to betray his friends.