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Pres and Hel’s pasts are a mystery to me, but what I know about them I gleen from their actions and ideas. Neither are big on sharing their life story, and I assume that means that their pasts are too painful. I was right.
Recently, we uncovered a male Ryak body charred from energy beams left to rot on the planet Festoon, “the planet of no sun.” Hel stood over the man’s body staring down with furious anger. When asked about who he was, Hel responded, “Alktine Troas” while red sparks flew off his bare skin in rage as he walked into the dark beyond. Behind me Pres appeared out of nowhere (as usual) and paused grappling to find his words, “--He was our father,” he hesitated with an apathetic face to match his blank eyes that stared straight off toward his brother while he walked away.
“He died here with our master, years ago. My brother. He was with me when it happened. And we, uh, w— we heard our fathers last charge before we took off into space with our masters shuttle.”
“I’m sorry Pres. I didn’t know. Who was fighting your father? Kaldaros? Ryak?” I asked piecing it together. He just lowered his head and stared blankly at the ground. Embarrassed and a little curious, I stated “It was C.O.R.E.”, then he tilted his head towards me and I got a glimpse of the pain in his white eyes, even with the emotionless expression on his face, I noticed that name still brought heart ache to his heart.
“My father was a gene manipulation scientist. He secretly developed new ways to give kinetic powers to those who he felt deserved it, “ Pres said as he took a step closer towards me, “Me and my brother included. C.O.R.E. discovered his secret experiments offered him a job to give “super powers” to their army of misfits,” Pres paused for a moment
“And he refused,” I finished for him.
“This is true…. Let me show you.” Pres reached out his hand and placed the heel of his palm on my forehead, his scars started to glow. White. A bright white that filled the entire area around us with a blinding glow. Suddenly, all I saw was a pallid room with Pres still standing in front of me with his hand still on my forehead. Slowly, a picture formed around the words he spoke.
“C.O.R.E. doesn’t take well to disobedience. My father took us here, to this black bitter planet. My brother and I had a master by the name of Fre’del; he too came with to Festoon, in order to continue our training in secret. While sitting at our dinning room table, my father suddenly looked towards my brother and I with a fear in his eyes, and yelled at us to run. At that exact moment, the door exploded, sending me and my brother flying across the back of the room. C.O.R.E. operatives flooded the cluttered house firing their blasters in every direction. My father’s chair flew out from beneath him as he pushed his hands forward, creating a wall of energy before the operatives blocking the front door to the house. Again he yelled for my brother to grab me and run, and my brother pulled me out the back door. We got to a giant bolder around 1 mile away next to the landing pad, and Hel put me down. He told me to stay silent as he pulled his knives out of his pocket then ran back to find Father and master Fre’del.
At that time, father made his way towards us with Fre’del, but only as fast as the operatives let them. Blaster continued to fire at both of them, but knowing how to control kinetic energy would prove helpful. For being a good offense, it can also be a good defense. Blocking every bolt with masses of energy, father would occasionally take a step towards the landing pad. Blaster bolt lined the pitch-black sky as twilighted blue energy surrounded the two old men, each ripple saving their lives by blocking the bolts from their bare skin. Two operatives ran up to the men in attempt to fight up close, but two knives dug themselves into the operative’s skulls. My brother, leaping over a rock, threw every knife he owned leading to our father. My brother cried, “Its time to leave!,” over the loud noises of blaster fire. My father looked down at him still fighting off bolts and said “No, it is time for you to leave, take your brother and fly the shuttle to Albion. Look for a woman named Jade. She will help your brother become what he needs to be. “Father, what am I to do, if brother is to train, what of me?” Hel asked in a childlike manner.
“Protect him.” Father finished, and at that moment Fre’del’s shield failed and four bolts pierced his chest. Hel watched as his maser slowly fell to his knees, his hand covering the wounds. Dark shivers ran down my brother’s spine, as everything seemed to be quiet for a moment. Then reality returned and Hel realized his father has been yelling, “run!” continuously. Without looking back, and with tears in his eyes, Hel ran. When he returned to the boulder he found me meditating above two dead C.O.R.E. soldiers.
“Fre’del is dead.” I said more like an answer than a question. Calmly my brother answered.
“Let us go.”
We both learned to fly an aircraft from Fre’del years ago, and the flight to Albion was short, but the battle raged on below as we took of in the shuttle. Looking down my brother shed a tear.
“Is he dead?” I asked
A couple moments passed without an answer and then distantly I heard a familiar voice cry out followed by complete silence
“Now he is”.
With a rush of adrenaline my vision came back to me. Pres slowly removed his hand upon my forehead. His blank stare faded off to the distance behind me. Almost fully drained, Pres bent over in pain clenching his stomach.
“Pres!” I blurted out as I reached to hold up my friend from falling over, “It’s killing you, ya know”
“No matter, you had to know the truth, to understand my brother. And his….ways.” Pres explained as the bright color from his scares faded. Steam seeped out from his clothing from the boiling hot temperatures his body was put through during the transition of his memory. This is happening a lot, and it’s starting to worry me. I stood by my best friend for a couple minutes in silence as he collected himself enough to walk back to our ship.
“There must be a anti-virus, a healing potion, something to fix this wound that is clearly marked upon you,” I said, as he began to walk again.
“Sintroz. My friend. There is no solution, I will die and there is nothing we can do to stop it. It is fate the will guide me to my destiny, be it glory, or be it da