Chapter Five || Fetter

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Background music: https://youtu.be/HlP8B0KrJxk

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A leader must be responsible. Or else, he is nothing more than a parasite.

Your fathers words echo in your head, his voice one your very own mirrors. A leader he was. A leader you were meant to become. But plans don't always run along the path that's paved. For you, it's been skewed. Maybe it has been all along. You're not sure where it began, nor where it will end. All you know, is the fight ahead. And ahead of you are no leaders. You walk down a dimly lit tile hallway behind the woman who greeted you, her hands still clasped behind her back, guards bordering you both. Upon one of her hands, metal nails, quite long and sharp attached to her glove. The other hand seems normal, a twin glove upon it yet void of the rather uncomfortable looking weaponry. Speaking of weaponry, they had forced you to hand over your bow and quiver, as well as your phone. This was something you very much did not want to comply with, but it remained a requirement.

You know who the woman escorting you is after catching more of her features. You've read about her. In fact, you've read as much as you could about any known member of Talon. Whatever had been brought to light at the time after finding them crawling throughout your estate.

Antonio Giordani, the Italian bastard who made a living off of the suffering of others. Stepping on them, just as the Talon soldiers have been doing back in Hanamura. All you know is that he disappeared.

Moira O'Deorain, the woman walking a few paces in front of you. A geneticist with an unsavory moral code. It makes you sick.

Augusto Vialli, the supposed person in charge. Nothing much on him besides that, other than he had connections with Giordani.

Then, unfortunately, a lot of information just went dark. The secrecy did not go unnoticed, leaving the only option being observance. Learning. Adapting. Then slipping back into the shadows to take them out from the inside or die trying. You're certain death will be with you every step of the way, regardless of if it takes you or not. A trail of red haunts you, tied like a string of fate laced around your neck synching tighter with each day that passes, sinking into your flesh like the cutting edge of a blade.

You're led through a large archway. To your right, the room seems to expand. The circular walls contain what seem to be marble pillars, highlighted by red light seeping from behind them. The room is mostly empty, save for a long, black counsel table, a large circular structure above containing bars of artificial light hitting the matte surface below. Coming to a stop, the guards split from you and Moira, two remaining inside taking each end of the entry. The other two depart through a mirroring opening just across from you, one you would have just passed right through had you kept walking as if it were just another part of the hallway. Moira pauses as the guards depart, only resuming her stride once they've taken their place, her footsteps echoing throughout the stone and tile room.

This leaves you standing alone.

Behind you upon the wall, a large, dimly lit stone symbol of the organization you've just signed your soul away to towers above, consuming your presence beneath it's harrowing form. It's accent lighting claws it's fingers over your shoulders, masking your face in darkness.

You examine the beings who all stare at you expectantly. Leaning against the back wall is a female, long dark hair in a high ponytail and a helmet with several red lenses upon it. She has her arms crossed, staring at you coldly. In their respective seats, you spot the wraith as well as others you do not recognize. Another female with brown, short bobbed hair, blowing bubblegum to a pop as she raises a brow. A man with abnormally large shoulder armor compared to the seemingly second skin of the rest of the attire and floating rocks in his palm, looking up to you with an expression that definitely seems much nicer than the others. Moira takes a seat next to this individual.

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