It was raining outside, who could’ve thought? Except now, the clouds were grayer than red. Not unheard of, but unusual, nonetheless.

  The large hangar door lay open behind the men, women and staff of the Arch Legion. They had all gathered round for the speeches to take place. Most had expected that it'd be just John speaking for it. But John and Amy stood just in front of the ladder, on top of the plane just out of sight.

  “Do you want me to go speak to them first? Kinda like, introducing you again before you begin.” John asks.

  “Yes please. I'd really appreciate that.” Amy replies rather nervously.

  He complies, messing up her hair again as he heads away. He doesn’t know why he enjoys doing that, only that he does. Standing upon the far wing of the plane, the crowd gives a few cheers as he stands there confidently.

  “How times have changed! Oh, it's good to see you all in a new light.”

  His body is highly animated, for he gestures as he talks.

  “Before I begin my proper address, there is someone who I want to talk before me. I have heard the news of some controversy among you all, which, we all promote free opinion. But we also want to make sure you aren't manipulated. And so, for your sake, I've brought Amy up with me. She can cut through it all like no one else!”

  The crowd gives a few claps and cheers, particularly those among the leadership. John looks back to signal for her to come forward, which she does with a couple coy footsteps. But the nerves seem to fade again as John prepares to give her the stage.

  “So I'll let Amy speak on my behalf for this topic as she is much more well versed than I am. And, afterwards, I'll come back up and speak to you all about the future and what we've got planned.”

  John gives a thumbs up, then jogs back to where Amy once stood.

  He spectates her from behind, the two smiling at each other and giving each other a nod before she begins. She looks forward over the crowd, finally able to look at their faces.

  “Hello everyone. It may have seemed like, just recently, the world has started sucking way more right? Have you noticed that on the contentsphere?”

  Most within the crowd give her a nod. Of course they have. Even those she knows have become somewhat radicalized. She starts moving around, commanding attention not just through words, but sight.

  “I have to. We all have it seems. It's amazing actually— I never knew there were all of these so-called experts out there who have known and perfectly predicted that state of the world throughout history!”

  Some in the crowd giggle. Others seem to grimace. But her words are going somewhere, and so she continues. Speaking a little louder and changing direction.

  “Something that I have observed which some of you might not have is how all of these so-called experts… They actually contradict each other. One will say some economic decision will be the end of the world, while another will say that it's the best thing to ever happen! And you wanna know what's crazy? All you have to do is look at another network. Or another pundit.”

  She stops near the left side of the wing and gauges how her words are doing. She can tell some cogs are turning. Very good. Lighting strikes as she drives this point home.

  “And so… I'll ask you all— what is the thing in common there? Is it that experts are right? Well, it can't be. Because they all contradict each other. What I have noticed is, that, well… It seems the so-called experts echo the narratives of the platforms they're airing on. And so we must ask— is an expert an expert because we're told they are?”

  The crowd starts whispering amongst themselves. The energy before felt like they were being told a speech to believe in. But now, that energy has changed in a way that feels… quietly hostile.

  “But I think I might know what you're thinking!”

  Amy is quick to say to reorient their attention.

  “You may be thinking… ‘Oh! Well, that's just the media of the pundits I don't believe in. Or that I don't subscribe to!’ And you may be right! Within the systems that exist currently, your gambling horse in the race might just be the correct one! But of course… that is only when you judge from within the system. And I want you to took around you. What the Hell has this system done for us?”

  The crowd seems to comply, literally looking around at each other as another lightning strike thunders in the distance. They see the supplies, weapons, vehicles, food, even the hangar itself. They see the progress which they make together.

  “See?! What of the system has done any of this for us? No, you, I, and your fellow colleagues are what has gotten us here today. The system has done nothing good for us. If it did, then we wouldn't be rebelling would we?”

  “No.” A few people speak quietly among them. Some people shake their heads. It seems like the message is getting through a little. So she continues to move and carry on her oration.

  “The system is trying to lure you in with things that don't matter. They might say that… ‘Oh! There's so much oppression because of this group!’ or… ‘Oh! The sky is falling! The economy and world is collapsing!’ or ‘Oh! If you say these things they invalidate my feelings!’ But then, you've gotta remember everyone. Look outside. Even if it’s true, maybe it doesn’t have to own us. Maybe we decide what matters— because if we don’t, then they will. Besides, what is sad is that, most of the time, everything said within the media is just noise.”

  She has their full attention by now. Their ears operate on her frequency. While her words could resonate, it is now where they pose the biggest risk of falling off.

  She is walking a tightrope. And she dances on it beautifully.

  “Because this news was never about you being informed, was it? It was never about keeping people awake. It was the exact opposite. Weaving people into a trap of meaningless noise disguised as useful information. But… why? Why would these people… or more accurately, this system decide to do this?”

  She is met with no answer. And so she provides it. Not that she can see, but John is nodding silently from behind.

  “Because the system knows it has made people angry. It is because this system has become so rotten, that it has to do these things to stay alive. They know they are rotten, and so they accuse people like you and I of what the system itself is guilty of! They turn us on each other! So we may not turn on them…”

  She can feel people being moved by the momentum behind her ideas. All that remains now is she sticks the landing. And so her cadences slow down— she doesn't move as much. She speaks a little quieter.

  It seems even the next bolt of lightning was far away.

  “And so ultimately, you are being lied to. It doesn't matter by what group or what person with a hat. They are two fish in the same pond, trying to convince us we won't drown. But we're only people. We need oxygen. And so we need to get out of it onto dry land. They might tell us the air outside the water is cold. And maybe is. But that is both a small price to pay, and will fade as we warm and acclimate. Umm… Yeah! Thank you everybody!”

  She finishes the speech where she started. She thanks the crowd and turns away, going back to John near the ladder. They hear discussion break out among the ranks as they speak, John greeting her.

  “You did great! No way I could've said something like that so… nicely.”

  “Thanks John but it sucked. I'm just glad it's over.”

  Amy replies, almost exhausted.

  Just as John is about to give some reassurance, he gets a notification from his digiphone. “Hmm… that's odd.” He thinks. Right after, it seems SERaMACs has something to say before he does.

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  It speaks not just through his digiphone, but also Amy's digiphone. They can hear it in the distance too. It sounds like SERaMACs is speaking through every goddamned speaker in the building.

  “Attention. Attention. Your attention is required.”

  SERaMACs says with all the different voices those present have given him. “John, you have received a message. It is best you share it with your staff.”

  “What the fuck is it SERaMACs?!” John affronts to this intrusion on behalf of the machine. He approaches the other side of the wing where the crowd is, everyone else pulling out their digiphones as it speaks.

  “You have received a message. I will share it with everyone else here so they may see it as you do.”

  John looks back to Amy. Maybe she knows something. But she looks as confused as all the rest. He remembers that he should trust SERaMACs more. If for no other reason than to trust the judgment of Amy. And so he complies.

  “...sure SERaMACs. Play us the message.”

  His digiphone automatically opens to the video player.

  As does those of everyone else of the resistance. They all stood there, looking down at their screens and observing silently.

  The only sound was the rainfall, and the remains of the lightning strike. And the winds of constant maelstrom outside. And the sound of a deep, deep, near-inaudible voice from their devices— from a man in black upon a throne.

  “Greetings… John. I know where you live.”

  The man upon the throne promises.

  To John, he kinda looks like Proteus. Just with deep, blue eyes. A more built-out frame. A very different voice, and with a comically handsome, almost beautiful face. He wore a fedora and a great long coat. He looked like he was from a time long-since past them. The man spoke again.

  “You are located in a hangar far east of Fort Collins. Colorado. You are located upon a ridge line. Do not try to relocate. Do not try to negotiate. I have chosen what happens next for you.” The man warns.

  All present looked at their screens as if he spoke to them directly. Gary, Gilbert, Crosby— everyone else. And those that had no digiphone watched others. He looked like a perfect, though regular man.

  Dressed in black. Formal. Powerful.

  Yet as he clicked his fingers, a Tiger walked into frame. And as it sat on his lap, those who even knew what a Tiger was had their mouth agape in shock. Yet he still spoke. This… man. This thing.

  “It is more or less apparent that SERaMACs has chosen you. For what, and why, is one of the few things beyond my comprehension. As it is out of yours I am certain.”

  He starts patting it as it headbutts his hand affectionately. If the beast could purr, it would. He looks down at it and gives it another pat, before gently picking it up by the loose skin of its neck like a mother does to its cubs.

  “Wholly fucking shit…” Gary utters under his breath at the sight. The giant man rises from his throne, and starts walking menacingly at the camera, speaking more than is comfortable.

  “The point is that you are powerless without SERaMACs. Try as you might, you are nothing without the very institutions you claim to hate. I have seen your propaganda. I helped nurture it. I dictate what lives...”

  The giant man on their screen takes a knee in front of the camera. He holds the thing towards it, the Tiger looking like a confused baby in his grasp. He moves the thing just out of frame for a moment. And in a blur, throws it with utter might into the metal wall behind the throne.

  The ragdoll makes a crack and a thud as it flies back within frame, leaving a nasty, gory stain as it slides down the wall.

  The monster turns back around to face the camera, and thus, those watching in disgust. “...and I control what is lost. You may try to resist as you please. Entropy arrives all the same.”

  He takes a step towards the camera and grabs it between his finger and his thumb. The most faint of smiles forms on his face.

  “And John… I’ve seen that you try and search for my work. And so I will leave you with one thing we share in common… I, Gauth Van Hulsieg, decry that the Archliege does indeed live on…”

  The monster crushes the camera, ending the video just like that. Their screens all turned to black in a flash. Left with just the sound of the rain.

  John looked up, his heart having sunk from their fleeting high as of recently. He looks around, below and towards the crowds. Heads watering aimlessly. Some people cry. Others look desolate. He looks behind him to see Amy hyperventilating.

  Her eyes still stuck to the blackened screen and her mouth covered.

  Looking back at the crowd; people are growing volatile. But something has to come first. He rushes back over to Amy as quickly as he can. He can't think of anything meaningful to stay, so he just gives her a hug. A tight, warm hug. He holds her as long as she needs to quiet down, and then she lets go, telling her some words just as he leaves.

  “Don't worry. We'll all be alright.”

  He bolts over to address the fraying crowd. Some are crying, some are sitting, and some are very, very angry.

  “Well, we obviously have their fucking attention!” He yells to try to win back their attention. He continues to shout to rip people out of their own heads and back into the real world.

  “That was not a planned interjection! But I'll spare you a big long speech after all of that shite information!”

  Quite a few of them look up to him. He figures more are listening than are looking. Although one angry man pipes up at him.

  “What the fuck do you call that John!”

  “A load of bullshit we need to chew up and swallow!” John replies, yelling back at the heckler. It may not have been the most gracious, but now most of them look up as he continues.

  “We already have the ball rolling people! We've been waiting for something like this! It was only a matter of time! It sucks, but that's too bad! That's half of the point, isn't it?”

  No one replies. They couldn't be more silent if they tried. Maybe he's talking to deaf ears. And so he concludes as best he can.

  “Well… I suppose it doesn't matter either way. Because if we stop for any moment, our asses are grass people. We've got some politics to form connections with, training to do, weapons to learn, truth to discover, words to share! And now, soon… we'll have some people to fight. I don't want to see any slacking. The truth is our lives depend on it.”

  Everyone looked up by now. He stood tall over the crowd, his hands behind his back. His show is getting good, though he is not immune to pondering implications. If anything, he is the worst for it. And so his last words to them differ from his responsibility.

  “Meet up with your team leader. They will take it for the rest of the day.” He turns his back on them as they onlook.

  He walks towards Amy who now sits on the floor. She's sniffling a little. Crossing bridges in her mind. John leans down over, the two lock in each other's attention.

  “What the Hell are we gonna do John?” She asks him.

  He replies smoothly.

  “What we've always done. Just now, under pressure.”

  “H— He just put a hole in half of what we even know.” Amy points out, sorrow and fear in her voice. John can't help but I understand.

  “I know. And I think most of it was bullshit if I'm being honest. But now there's one thing I have to know for sure Amy.”

  They can both hear people mobilizing far away. John can only hope the rest of leadership can improvise better than he does.

  “What?” Amy asks, sniffling again.

  John answers her thoroughly.

  “If the Archliege lives on… then I have to find him. You've done great Amy. Your speech was amazing. And so I now need you to pivot back to that. Do you understand me?”

  “Y— yes.” Amy replies, taking a deep breath out to compose herself. John stands tall and tries to smile, extending a hand for her.

  “Come on. I'm sure your digiphone is working now.”

  “I'm gonna fucking kill SERaMACs.” Amy says as she takes his hand and stands up. A ruckus of people moving grows even more in the background. John only hopes those grunts are of progress, not fights.

  “I don't blame you.” John replies. “But the reality of the matter is that, really, we do need him. So we just gotta hope that he still helps us. So please be nice next time you two talk.”

  SERaMACs heard them.

  SERaMACs always does.

  SERaMACs can't help but listen.

  And SERaMACs remains silent… for now.