Cerberus awakens in the effluvium tank. His mouth, stuffed with a tube feeding him oxygen. The red lights of his eyes shone a haze into the liquid, making it difficult for him to see.

  Irrespective of this, he felt a terrible presence watching; far and unseen. He hits the release button, the fluid draining as he touches the ground. The door of his pod opens, allowing him to pull himself out.

  Drenched, he heads to the meditative room's shower just meters away. As he stumbles below the faucet, he observes the body of Proteus suspended just as he was; only small and frail. A man of such extreme reverence that outstrips perhaps all of his other colleagues. Motionless. Average. Waiting.

  Cerberus washes clean, drying in the laser-field on the other side.

  He snatched his uniform atop the pod, dressing to specification before he left. He towers out into the gigantic hallway of the five hundredth floor, pacing towards the stairway on a mission to Basilisk's office. As he strides, the very ground tremors beneath him.

  Some of the many bots, servitors and staff of the Ivory Tower look in awe of his presence. He does not acknowledge their existence; climbing up a flight of stairs to the six hundred and thirtieth floor. He breaches past the lobby to Basilisk's office, who seems to have been expecting him.

  “I could hear you coming from three floors away. Would you like to know how it went?” Basilisk asks him, his reply a pissed-off nod before she continues. “Well… you'd be happy to hear that he took it quite well. In fact, he praised you for your self-restraint.”

  Cerberus grunts, putting his iron fist on her wooden desk.

  “And how much of that is your own fabrication, snake?”

  Basilisk leans back in her chair, appearing quite smug.

  “Well, you'll believe whatever you want to believe, would you not?”

  Cerberus contemplates, taking his fist off the desk.

  “Action will confirm the truth. I will take your word for it, for now.”

  “Excellent.” Basilisk exclaims. “I would ask if you want a seat but I am certain you would break it. You must be busy regardless, I'm sure.”

  Cerberus looks at her, then looks at the seat, then sits in it. It buckles and creaks, but holds him up quite well. Basilisk's chipperness turns to a scowl as she leans forward in her chair.

  “That was not an invitation. What do you want?”

  “Your aid.” Cerberus admits, leaning back to the protest of his seat. “My workload is untenable given changes in priority. I need you to oversee the psi-op rebellions specifically.”

  A smile returns to Basilisk's face, flicking her hair aside. “Ahhhhh… is that so? That is advanced cognition for your standards, Cerberus.”

  He looks at her, expressionless, grinding his teeth together before he replies. “Yes. Indeed it is. Thus, you will help.”

  Basilisk’s eyes tighten slightly. “Tell me why or you can help yourself.”

  “Because I give you my limited patience, Basilisk.”

  His fingers curl amongst each other as he stares at her.

  “It is a fight you would not win if you protest.”

  Her eyes go dull again, having seen whatever it was they were looking for. “Limited patience? So you will be doing more field operations to vent. It would be so much easier if I didn't have to spell it out for you, Cerberus.”

  She stands from her seat, walking to the window behind her. She looks out into the endless skyline, Cerberus joining her as she speaks.

  “Very well. I will see what I can do. Though given your injury… such dissent signals increased volatility.”

  “How foolishly profound.” Cerberus mocks. “I will revel in the gore of unchained bloodlust. It is good that people attempt to act with independence. So we— I, may crush them.”

  “You mistake me for someone who cares, Cerberus.” She states bluntly, turning to him as she puts pieces together. “Wait… the fact you would bother mentioning…” She whispers under her breath. The city highlights her silhouette like a monument. “Are you trying to suggest that the ants are becoming… individuals?”

  He looks back at her like she was stupid. “Why would I suggest such a thing? Of course they are Basilisk. You should know better than anyone.”

  The two stood still for a moment, overlooking the masses from the altitude of this room. Basilisk breaks the silence as she thinks.

  “That politician? Mourner?” She asks.

  “Yes. He is part of it.” Cerberus answers, his attention caught by a large shadow forming under the door. Basilisk continues thinking and probing him. “And there are more? As in more beyond the acceptable margins?”

  “Oh what do you think?!” Cerberus mocks aggressively, still looking at the shadow under the door. Basilisk backs up from the window, returning to her desk, writing some notes down as she speaks.

  “Well, then we need to awaken Proteus. And we must arrange a board meeting. Proteus can take control of the psi-ops from you, though we will need him for far more than that.”

  She turns back to Cerberus who appears stuck in time.

  “Would it— would it really be fruitful to inform ‘him’ of these revelations immediately?” She asks, shuttering at the idea.

  Contingencies are already running through her head about the potential of a performance audit. Cerberus watches as the shadow walks away, too big and too quiet to be any ordinary human.

  “I would shut my face if I was you.” He growled quietly.

  Basilisk, hearing the leaving footsteps, is overcome with chills as she comes to the same realization Cerberus did. Two giants, rendered frozen in this office.

  The tick of an analog clock and the light crackling of candles is all that is audible. The two remain stationary, silent for the next couple of minutes.

  They look at each other before then looking away awkwardly. Again. And again, before Cerberus suggests to her. “We should talk to him.”

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  A fearful Basilisk agrees, nodding, swallowing hard. They exit her office towards the elevator of the throne room. Too small to fit them both, Cerberus kindly implores she go first, and thus she does.

  As she ducks into the shaft, he comments.

  “I struggle to see how lord Gauth Van Hulsieg fits in here.”

  Her head locks on to him and hisses. “Shut the fuck up.”

  The ascent is cramped and uncomfortable. The reek of her rose perfume is an insult to Cerberus’s nostrils. She, on the other hand, despises his metallic scent. It took longer than either would’ve preferred, though eventually, they reached the bottom of the grand staircase.

  She once again takes the time to marvel at the great historic pieces held upon its decadent pillars and walls. That was until Cerberus unfolds himself from the elevator. He isn’t one to be sentimental.

  The two of them approached the blackened throne room, and stayed whisper quiet. Upon their immersion deep within the depths of this intrepid chamber, they knelt beside each other in total silence. They could hear each other's heart beat; tell the depth of each other's breaths.

  A light foot step came from the far right of the room, before it yielded to an overwhelming presence looming over. As fast as it came, it left— their mutual sense of isolation returning.

  “Scans indicate that your master is not present. Return to your quarters and resume your duties immediately.” SERaMACs ordered over the intercom.

  Cerberus's eyes jut to Basilisk's, and hers do the same; meeting each other in skeptical stare.

  A finger snaps, making the intercom turn to white noise before muting. The red blinking dot of the security cameras shut down.

  “Do you observe any issue with this demonstration?”

  Gauth Van Hulsieg whispers to them both.

  “Not at all.” Both utter in unison.

  “You are correct.” Their master decides, pacing back to his throne. He takes his seat, snapping his finger again to turn the lights back on.

  “Now, state your business.”

  The pair rise to his attention, Basilisk starting first.

  “I have been unable to further decipher SERaMACs dependency algorithms. I have, however, observed a breakthrough in its application.”

  “Continue.” Her master orders.

  “I have observed an uptrend in SERaMACs market share with regards to virtual companionship and automatons. With regards to the public, they are… engaging with it more intimately.” She faces down, awaiting her master's reaction.

  “Very good.” He says. “Now you, Cerberus.”

  “Gauth Van Hulsieg, sir, James' replacement has been installed without hassle. It seems the public are warming to the idea of artificial governance.”

  Cerberus informs, their mutual attention locked towards their towering master. “Good.” His master replies. “Though your latter statement goes without saying. And now… I have questions of my own.”

  The pair fight the impulse to look elsewhere. The God-Man looks first to Cerberus.

  “Cerberus, my enforcer. How have your injuries felt since your last mission?”

  “At full strength.” He answers, standing tall and attentive as he speaks.

  “My previous helmet remains destroyed, though the cyber metal in my skull performed wonders.”

  His master's face is as hard to read as ever; it remains blank and emotionless. “Very good. And you, dear Basilisk. How are you enjoying your new office?”

  She steps forward, holding her hands together and facing down. “Reminds me of my youth. It is quaint. And is much appreciated.”

  She steps back again, beside Cerberus. Her master nodded, recognizing the statement. “Very good.” He tells her.

  All remain quiet under the harsh gaze of their master, unable to look him directly in the eyes. Every part of Basilisk wants to leave, but she does not dare move without permission.

  The balcony door breaks the silence and opens with blistering winds and thick rainfall. The sudden shock of noise startled the two.

  Their master remains seated, waving them towards the opening door.

  “Move. I implore you to enjoy the view.” They swallow hard, nod, and scurry out into the storm. They look out into the cityscape, searching for some sort of test.

  Both approach the railing and look back for a moment to see their godlike master looming above, and before the doorway. His hands, behind his back. His posture, perfect.

  The tension is rising as their powerlessness underneath him grows more apparent. Gauth Van Hulsieg points out into the cityscape; their eyes focusing back onto it in accordance.

  Each step their master takes is an omen. Each step, loud and heavy; deliberate, as he normally chooses to be silent. He rests his palms on their shoulders. The endless clouds a deep, bloody crimson. The weather, a tempest of hatred. The forgotten Sun above the clouds beams onto the storm in vain. Gauth Van Hulsieg pushes them forward ever so slightly; Basilisk resisting the urge to jump off the balcony for escape.

  “I find myself explaining more often than I wish.”

  Their master booms, his unfiltered voice shaking their bones with its bass. “You are witnessing the human condition. And so the first step to true knowledge is knowing that causality... is just… projection.”

  “How so, Gauth Van Hulsieg?”

  Basilisk asks, feeling as if she is being singled out.

  “Just because something should go your way doesn't mean it will, does it Basilisk?” He asserts, pushing her against the railings harder.

  Basilisk stutters, the fear of her inadequacy self-evident.

  “Of— of course not… Gauth Van Hulsieg…”

  Their master focuses his attention on Cerberus.

  "And you are the perfect example of that… aren't you, Cerberus?”

  Cerberus recalls the station as he speaks.

  “Most certainly. My execution of the dissenter was a colossal failure.”

  Gauth Van Hulsieg releases them both, Basilisk almost tipping over the edge. They look back and see him reentering the throne room, his voice echoing throughout the structure. “Then make yourselves useful. Your next failure will yield your resignations from the Kubaal Aetheon Trust. Leave. Now.”

  They obliged, sprinting away towards the elevator, desperate to get out. Their fear is as apparent as the dissatisfaction of their master.

  Basilisk reaches it first, squeezing inside and forcing it to the closest floor down. Cerberus bolted towards the now-closed door, slowing down just in time to avoid leaving a huge dent in it. Each second feels like an aeon as he has to wait for the elevator to get back up.

  He looks back to the staircase for a moment, his gaze met by his master’s indignation. As soon as the elevator chime rings, he shoved himself inside, slamming the door closed.

  Cerberus pants in the elevator, his anxiety settling while he looks over his domain. That being the city. As his descent begins, the intercom cracks into life. It was his master who spoke.

  His master, who ordered in clear and plain terms.

  “Cease your patheticness. You will from now on act with your own authorities. Do not ask for clarification again. Go out, find what you must, and more importantly… prove your worth. Your methods are now at your discretion.” Their master's voice gets louder as he finishes, placing the utmost importance on his next words.

  “And above all… do not dare to withhold information from me again. Incur my suspicions, and you will beg for death. I promise you.”