Aberrant: 200X - The Life Lived Between Killing Folks

[VileBill]

Bill waved a couple more times as Tiffany receded into the mass of humanity at the Rome Fiumicino terminal. Four days of near constant partying, fucking and sightseeing and she was still bouncing around like a tweeker on a hotplate, it amazed him.

He grinned as he turned away and walked off to the bar to kill some time before his own flight was scheduled. The occasional novaphile braved his reputation and aura of menace to ask for an autograph or just to shake his hand (probably hoping his node would reach out and jumpstart them or something) but Bill didn't mind. Maybe they didn't hire his ass but they did buy the figures, the comics, posters and the ton of other shit Devries put out that supplemented the pay he received for testing the tensile strenghth of human bone.

It'd been a good few days with Tiffany. It was just sport fucking, and thank god she wasn't stupid enought to think otherwise, but she was still cute company. She had a way of completely looking flummoxed whenever he'd mention anything that happened in music, movies, tv or hell, the entire world, before she turned 14 that he found a hoot. And on the other hand since she came from money she knew a shitload about how Bill was actually supposed to act in nice places and was willing to let him know what to do in a nice restraunt or a museum.

That made him chuckle. A museum. But still, he stood staring at the Oath of the Horatii for an hour, just dumbstruck. He was going to have to check this art shit out just a little more. No reason he couldn't have a little culture. It'd make momma happy as hell.

[VileBill]

He left a sizable tip two hours later when he rose from his stool and walked into the terminal to catch his flight to Johanesburg. The bartender was still agog at the three empty bottles of Johnny Walker that Bill left. He'd heard of the inhuman resistence novas had to drink and drugs but hearing and seeing were two things seperate altogether. But two hours and three litres of hard liquor had left nary a sign of intoxication on the massive man that had just left his bar. It was definetely a new age.

Lot to be said about Italy, Bill thought as he walked towards the gate, They let a man get a decent drink on without yapping about it being too much and don't bother a body for happy noises in the hotel rooms. Maybe I should get me a place here.

As per usual the flight attendents were attentive and friendly, not just due to his first-class ticket he realized, but also for having survived three years in a high profile profession as he had. The thought always brightened his mood and with him already being high in spirit he was smiling broadly as he sat in his comfy seat and rested his eyes, listening to the sounds of other passengers finding their way and occasionally whispering to themselves about their notorious cabin-mate.

Fifteen minutes later he heard whispers stress-strained and louder likely than the participants intended.

"Who in their right mind would have booked this? Are they looking for trouble" a man's voice said. Bill was hardly the most attuned of men but there were things he recognized after his many years and one of them was the sound of fear. The way a man's voice quavers and occasionally breaks when violence is threatened and he is not a man prone to or comfortable with violence.

"His flight was re-routed here and grounded. It wasn't intentional. It's not like we were going to say no, especially not for this reason." A woman responded. This one wasn't scared, just annoyed.

Ah, nothing sicks out a strong woman more than a weak man. Bill surmised. That limp-dick better man up or she'll have his sack for a coinpurse.

The conversation concluded moments later with the fearful man acceding to the woman's wishes. Not that Bill had any doubt in his mind after hearing the steel in her voice. He wondered what was causing the ruckus. It had to involve him in some way, tha was obvious. Another Elite perhaps? Rey Del Guererro was supposed to be in Europe. Maybe him? No matter. No money means no violence. They didn't need to worry.

Bill glanced over to the stairs to see who else was the source of panic. When he saw the long blonde hair, swept back perfectly, he knew and his smile disappeared. The sky-blue eyes rounded slightly as they locked with Bill's ebon stare and the perfect teeth on display to the other passengers disappeared between his thin lips as they tightened.

Fucker even wears the colors when he's off duty , Bill noticed as he took in the magnificent build and perfectly cut clothes of the Team Tomorrow member.

"Well hey," Bill said, refusing to be thought of as cowed for even a moment, "If it ain't one of my favorite 'Topes. Howzit going Blue Star?". His voice was friendly. The type of friendly meant to annoy someone who knew you didn't mean a goddamn kindness towards him in any way, shape, or form.

Yeah, this flight is gonna suck.

[VileBill]

When two gorillas start to circle each other and make with the aggressive displays the other members of the tribe scream, hoot and generally make a ruckus but they don't get involved. When two stags lock horns and proceed to prove their dominence the does and immature males in the area step back and wait to see who comes out on top. When two male wolves decide it's time to figure out who has the biggest dick the pack circles and watches, they don't interfere.

With these sterling examples of what happens when two large, strong and completely senseless males come across each other let it be said that humanity is really quite stupid when it comes to such basic social occurrences.

The two flight attendents in charge of overseeing the first class cabin were named Theodore (Theo, never Teddy) and Angela. Together they were two highly trained, very experienced professionals who had years of experience dealing with drunk, disorderly, rude and self-indulgent passengers who felt that possessing a first-class ticket entitled them to behavior that would be looked upon poorly if displayed by an epileptic baboon. So they did what time after time of having to stand interference between two passengers who for a variety of reasons despised each other.

They chatted with them. They broke out the drink cart early. They convinced three seperate passengers to come up and offer to switch seats so they could "be more comfortable". Not a difficult task considering that even a casual observer of Elite/Utopian interactions would remember one of the more colorful confrontations to occur over the last three years.

Two years ago, in Turkmenistan, members of Team Tomorrow were called in to deal with a rebel warlord. While Turkmenistan could hardly be called an admirable political entity it was stable and Project Utopia under the auspices of the UN was intent on keeping stability in the region. That the warlord was a heroin-traffiker to boot only made their involvment all the more sensible.

The warlord though was a sucessful and rich man and he'd hired some protection from Devries, the Elite Vile Bill and a non-combat negotiator by the name of Angeline "Fairplay" Malleus.

The unexpected presence of Malleus, VileBill and especially a camera team threw Team Tomorrow's plans into disruption. For although the warlord was a drug traffiker he was also a champion of his people against the army of Turkmenistan which had taken to unbelievebly brutal practices to destroy the popular support of the warlord. Fairplay's "Realm of Discussion" ability negated the manipulative abilities of T2M'er Geisha and took from the Utopians their expected easy victory. Fairplay kept Geisha off balance, embarassing the young woman greatly for the cameras and Vile Bill went on an unexpected rant against the muscle of the Team Tomorrow unit, John "Blue Star" Bakker. Despite his uncouth manner the cameras caught Vile Bill making an impassioned defense of the warlord, specifically regarding his willingness to protect the women of his region against the brutality of the army. Blue Star was prevented from engaging the Elite in combat due to Utopian policies and the presence of the cameras and he eventually lost his temper and delivered a tirade that to some suggested a misogynistic and uncaring streak in the Utopian.

All in all it was a bad day for Utopia.

And the two had not met again until they sat down, opposite sides of the aisle in first class.

[VileBill]

All through the waiting, takeoff and five minutes afterwards the two novas sat quietly, not even looking at each other.

Vile Bill was the first to break the silence,"So, this is a Utopian in the doghouse eh? You gotta ride first class instead of one of your private supermegajets?" The derision in his voice was obvious.

,,

" Wow, am I wrong or did you just go an entire sentence without using any vulgarity? Don't you get fined or something whenever you act like a real human being in public? " BlueStar was in a similar mood to be sure.

,,

" Ooooh, a 'real human'. Dude, no wonder they don't let you swing, you can't even insult a body right. "

,,

" You're right, you deserve a hell of a lot worse but the fact is we're in public and these good people don't need to hear that kind of language. Not even about a drug-running murderer like yourself. "

,,

A few beats past.

,,

" Drug runner? You talking about my youthful indescretions? The ones I done paid for with real time spent behind real bars or you talking about working for Warlord Kashan? "

" Kashan of course. Yes, you dealing drugs in the States was horrible, and you didn't spend anywhere near enough time in prison obviously but you're right, you 'paid' your debt. Kashan on the other hand is a totally different matter. The man moved tons of heroin. And you helped keep him in power! "

,,

" Yep, I sure did. Dude, that's why they pay me. And what are you bitching about? The eight weeks I was there you know how many folks got killed? On either side? Zip. Zero, none. I almost felt bad for taking the man's money. Hell, I did more peacekeeping that y'all manage to most of the time. "

,,

"No, you kept the rightful government of Turkmenistan at bay so that rebel and drug lord could continue to sicken the world with his poison. "

,,

" Yep, I did do that. I did make sure that he could spread his shit to a bunch of weak-willed fucks who chose to snort the shit in the first place. Goddamn them for wanting to do something bad to themselves. I could cry. Y'know what else I did? I kept those uniform wearing fucks from running trains on twelve-year old girls cuz their daddy didn't want to join the army. "

,,

" I'm not defending that kind of garbage and damn you for trying to make me look like I did. That was some pretty clever editing your folks did with that tape. Proud of that? Proud that you came off looking so clever? "

,,

" Editing? You saying you didn't say that shit? You saying we made that up? Dream on Blue Balls. "

" No, I'm not losing my temper again, not with trash like you. Yes, the government was doing some awful things, things that needed to be stopped and we were trying to do that too. But no, you couldn't look beyond your wallet. I'm sure it was nice to justify defending that jackal but the fact is if he wasn't doing what he was doing the government wouldn't have had him as an excuse to bring the hammer down the way it did. We would have been able to spend our time working on political and human rights instead of the animal you were working for. "

,,

Minutes passed. Conversations stopped. This beat listening to the in-flight movie, "27 Dresses" by a long reach.

" I been thinking. You got a point. But I gotta say this. If a fucker is doing evil shit like having his soldiers gang-rape little girls and beat old-women with clubs then you don't try to 'work with him'. You take him out. Kind of like we do at Devries. We always on the side fo the angels? Fuck no. I ain't not child. But c'mon, how many angels out there are running governments, being rebels or owning companies? Nah, fact is you guys are the only ones who are really claiming to be angels. Maybe y'all should read up on the Angels of Vengeance and Wrath and shit instead of the pussy angels you seem to think are so hot. "

,,

   

[VileBill]

It went on like that for the entirety of the flight.

Two men, opposite sides of the fence, opinionated, passionate and each capable of leveling a city block all by their lonesome.

Nothing was settled of course. Both were too caught up in their own arguments to really listen to the other and neither was good enough at making his own point to get through the stubborn wall of denial the other had up.

But it made for an entertaining flight. At least for those able to get passed the colon clenching fear that the argument was going to turn to blows. Blows that would surely result in the destruction of the plane and the death of them all.

If any victory could really be claimed it would belong to Bill. As the plane landed and the passengers departed he managed to turn off the anger he had built up against the Utopian and turn on his rather charming grin as he put ten crisp hundreds into the flight attendent's hand.

When she protested he said "Hey, y'all were glory and bright shining light during that whole flight. Even when me and the spandex kid got with the harsh words. You take it and you and your buddies have a good night on ol Bill."

Disembarking he and Blue Star made sure to keep out of each others vision while looking for their respective rides. Once Bill saw Big Thaba, his all-around do-it-all, he knew he was home. The huge young man smiled once he his boss and threw his arms around him, "You do okay, Boss? Start no wars? Keep the client happy?"

Bill chuckled, "Thaba, man, ain't you s'posed to work for me? Andre is the one who's supposed to ride me about keeping the client happy and not starting shit I ain't paid to start."

Thaba looked at Bill with eyes far older than his twenty years would suggest,"Ah, I take care of six sisters, get them all married, even the older ones and watch over my mama and you think I'm not going to take care of you too? Bah, you no nova if you let the spirits get to your head and think I'm not gonna do today what I did yesterday, last week and last year!"

It was this warmth and tough love attitude that helped make Pretoria home for Bill. The one time his mama had come and visited South Africa two years ago she'd taken an immediate shine to Thaba and shoo'd away the little hottie that had been "taking care" of Bill's home and business for him. Thaba had taken over and kept Bill on an even keel for the last two years, knowing exactly how to move and encourage the Elite without angering him. If someone had kept track of his mission result figures (as Andre did) they would have noticed (as Andre had) that while Thaba played mother hen to Bill not only did his success percentages move higher in nearly all catagories but he also got into less trouble. Not no trouble, this was Bill of course, but less. So Thaba stayed, wielding far more authority in the camp than one of his station normally would.

Thaba opened the door for Bill to the car before taking the wheel, "Okay, Bossi, I treat you with respect an honored warrior like you deserves," Bill chuckled at this. "Bah! Your mama is right, you have no respect! Fine then, I still tell you that changes are going on in camp, maybe you care about that?"

Bill perked his ears, "Changes? What kind of shit is going on?" He knew enough about Thaba to know that he'd never bother to bring up silly rumors or shit like that.

Thaba looked back at Bill through the rear-view mirror seriously, "The Lady. The General. Some say there is trouble.

[VileBill]

When Thaba was thirteen years old he stood six foot ten and weighed two hundred and thirty-five pounds. Acromegally had made him a hulking youth. But his father had made him a caring one. In South Africa violence reigned, even after the end of Apartheid. But Thaba's father was a strong and decent man, a principal at a local school and he raised his son, and his six daughters, to respect the law and the concept of decency. It was this strength of character that eventually led to his death.

When Thaba was thirteen his father stepped in to stop some thugs from raping one of his students. He was successful in that the girl managed to escape. He was not in that the brutes took out their anger on him and beat him until he was a bloody wreck of a man. He lingered only a few hours before dying in his wife's arms as a doctor explained that his wounds were unrecoverable.

So Thaba stood six foot ten and he stood at his father's grave, at the age of thirteen. It was said, in tones of deepest respect, that he became a man that day for he acted much as his father had, treating those around him with tenderness and compassion and keeping watch over his mother and sisters. However, unlike his father he also was more than comfortable in dealing out violence if he thought it necessary to protect those around him. His neighborhood became a reletive haven of peace and quiet after he'd demonstrated that his size was bastioned by a keen mind and capable fists.

So five years passed with Thaba keeping an eye on his mother and sisters, managing to marry off the three oldest and young younger one to good families. He brought money into the house through hard work and dedication. When Devries moved in he saw the opportunity to get a better paying job and approached them with a willingness to do anything that was needed.

Anna Devries recognized the value of employing locals and her recruiters the now seven foot two Thaba as not just a talented young man but as a memorable example of a local pulled into the Devries family. They took him in, recognized his skills, trained him and offered medical treatment to cure the Acromegally so his life wouldn't be cut tragically short. They ensured the security of those he loved and in return his dedication to Devries was almost fanatical.

So when Adrian Toulouse Etienne approached him with an offer to be the Elite Vile Bill's household chief he agreed without any real idea who Vile Bill actually was. After a week he was tempted to quit Devries entirely if he had to work with that oaf. Bill was undereducated, foul-mouthed, crude and an abuser of women. Two weeks later he changed his mind. It was something he never spoke of with anyone, something he never spoke of with Bill himself. He wasn't even sure if Bill remembered that night. He'd managed to get some sort of nova-strengthed narcotic and was completely unhinged. He wept for hours and talked with Thaba about his life, but without the bravado that coated his every sober word. Thaba heard nightmarish tales of evils that Bill had seen and had learned how to deal with while not becoming a monster himself.

From the next morning forward Thaba was Bill's devoted "employee", though he ruled the Elite's household with an iron fist. It was simply an extension of his life. He had six sisters he'd taken care of and protected. Now he had a younger brother. That the younger brother was twice his age was an immaterial component.

[VileBill]

Working at Devries is much like any other sort of business. You have your cliques, your groups of friends. That many of the individuals working for the company regularly used lethal force towards "competitors" in the course of a workday really didn't matter.The baseline and nova operatives of the Devries Agency were to a person completely loyal to Anna Devries. Over at DVNTS the baselines were loyal to Frank Carrington, Anna's lover and employee. The novas were another matter entirely. In the world of paid mercenary work it could easily be said that machismo and sexism were common traits. As a result Carrington the total loyalty of a sizable portion of the nova Elite's under his command. One could hardly expect someone like Tank Choulat to ally himself with a woman. But you had others who for a variety of reasons chose to remain loyal to Anna Devries despite the fact that they officially served under Carrington. You had some like Lotus Infinite who were simply enlightened souls to whom gender was a meaningless reason for allegience. Others like Siegfried Holtz were barely disguised nova supremicists who couldn't imagine cowtowing to a monkey.  And then there was Bill.Bill was raised by a woman with an iron will, steel spine and a voice that could drown out a chopper at full throttle. Women to him fell into three groups; the fuckable, the unfuckable and Badass Ladies. The first time he met her he realized Anna was a Badass Lady and that was all it took. He worked for Anna, fuck Carrington. And if that caused problems so be it.And cause problems it did. After his less than stellar peformance against that Carver chick he was sentenced to "job skills enhancement", another word for nova bootcamp designed to pump up those abilities you already have and cram some more military skills into folks like Bill that were less than enthusiastic about training. So he was now in the middle of four weeks dedicated to strength development, hand-eye coordination and heavy weapons training. Something about using an $84,000 BFG as a club seemed to get on McDougal's nerves. And McDougal was a pain in the ass on a regular basis.Angus McDougal was a sexist, vulgar thug. So of course many assumed he and Bill would get along like beer and pretzels. Not so. They both loved beer, brawling, and babes. But as far as McDougal was concered there was only fuckable and unfuckable. The idea that he might hold a woman in some sort of esteem was completely foreign to him.

So when he and Bill were both assigned to the gym at the same time and the major topic of conversation was still the near screaming argument that Anna and Carrington had gotten into during a board meeting two weeks prior it was a suprise to no one that knew them that they took opposite sides of the argument.

Over squats Angus extolled on Carrington's virtues.

During the bench series Bill talked about Anna's class and business savvy.

The over-hand cable haul had Angus explaining that women were naturally incapable of running anything more complicated than an iron.

Curls found Bill giving examples of exactly how capable of being a hardass and badass a woman could be by talking about his mother.

That's when witnesses are fairly sure that Angus said something inappropriate when speaking about the mother of anyone, let alone a blooded Elite holding four thousand kg of hardened steel.

The damage to the gym was relatively minor considering that the first blow knocked Angus through a window. The cafe outside suffered quite a bit more.

[VileBill]

Six days later Bill had managed to work off his portion of the damages to Heavy Harry's Gym and Pain-a-toreum. Six days of highly visible, very low threat but normally high-paying steel armani work for some left-wing, bleeding heart liberal celebretard, keeping him safe and sound as he toured the cyclone ravaged shores of Malaysia.

Being attached by the hip to that simpering, wimpering, drowning in white-guilt star of stage and screen was a blatant punishment detail above and beyond having his salary garnished to pay for the gym. That oily-haired Hollywood pansy talked more than anyone Bill had ever met. And only about two subjects, acting and the horrors of the world that he felt personally responsible for bringing to everyone's attention.

By the time it was over Bill was damn sure he'd never fuck with Devries property again.

Next time I beat the shit out of Angus I'll make sure we're off base., he thought with a grim smile.

Etienne had informed Bill when he arrived back at base that since his four weeks had been so unfortunately interupted that the instructors were pretty sure he wouldn't have retained all the necessary skills. So it was back to the begining, four weeks of excercise intense enough to make steel-hard muscles scream, lungs that would hold hard for twenty minutes give out in gasping breaths and hour after hour after hour of weapons drills designed to penetrate the thickest skulls. And of course since he had a stamina that ranked with the best his instructors decided that sleeping was not a necessity, but rather a reward. A reward Bill had to earn by performing to their stratospheric expectations.

Bill would sometimes wonder if they knew how dangerous it was to push him like this. Didn't they know he did time for shattering some dudes jaw like it was a pinata and all because that dude hadn't treated Bill with the respect due to an Iron Cowboy in an Iron Cowboy bar?

But the fact was they did know. They knew about every single solitairy nova under their supervision. Devries was not a foolish company. When training dangerous men and women to be even more dangerous it doesn't pay to assume what their breaking point is. No, it's far more logical and cost effective to employ extremely gifted therapists, psychologists and behavioral scientists to find out exactly what those breaking points are without reaching them. Men and women with miltary psych ops backgrounds, former social workers and individuals experienced in dealing with hardened prisoners. Corporate trainers who know how to recognize boredom or frustration by body-language and facial expressions. Former super-max prison guards who possessed a highly attuned sense of impending violence. Psychologists who'd worked with troubled children, all types of addictive personalities and those with first-hand knowledge of some of the most vile psychopaths in government custody. All of these individuals worked with and on the Elites of Devries, keeping tabs on them and keeping track of their stress levels. They had failed in matching Angus with Bill and failure was not an acceptable concept in regards to Elites.

Failure would not occur again.

So while he was convinced he was moments away from pounding the snot out of that jarhead who kept screaming at him about how to properly handle the BFG there were a dozen people who could assure him (and they would be right) that in fact this level of stress was optimal for keeping him focused and feeling productive. The attention made him feel valuable, the profanity made him comfortable and the body language (carefully taught) of the instructor made him secure in his safety but aware of the potential for danger, thus cementing his attention to the situation at hand.

And Bill was only one of many novas, Elites, being honed into a razor edge of aggressive brilliance by the talented men and women of Devries.

[VileBill]

Six days later Bill had managed to work off his portion of the damages to Heavy Harry's Gym and Pain-a-toreum. Six days of highly visible, very low threat but normally high-paying steel armani work for some left-wing, bleeding heart liberal celebretard, keeping him safe and sound as he toured the cyclone ravaged shores of Malaysia.

Being attached by the hip to that simpering, wimpering, drowning in white-guilt star of stage and screen was a blatant punishment detail above and beyond having his salary garnished to pay for the gym. That oily-haired Hollywood pansy talked more than anyone Bill had ever met. And only about two subjects, acting and the horrors of the world that he felt personally responsible for bringing to everyone's attention.

By the time it was over Bill was damn sure he'd never fuck with Devries property again.

Next time I beat the shit out of Angus I'll make sure we're off base., he thought with a grim smile.

Etienne had informed Bill when he arrived back at base that since his four weeks had been so unfortunately interupted that the instructors were pretty sure he wouldn't have retained all the necessary skills. So it was back to the begining, four weeks of excercise intense enough to make steel-hard muscles scream, lungs that would hold hard for twenty minutes give out in gasping breaths and hour after hour after hour of weapons drills designed to penetrate the thickest skulls. And of course since he had a stamina that ranked with the best his instructors decided that sleeping was not a necessity, but rather a reward. A reward Bill had to earn by performing to their stratospheric expectations.

Bill would sometimes wonder if they knew how dangerous it was to push him like this. Didn't they know he did time for shattering some dudes jaw like it was a pinata and all because that dude hadn't treated Bill with the respect due to an Iron Cowboy in an Iron Cowboy bar?

But the fact was they did know. They knew about every single solitairy nova under their supervision. Devries was not a foolish company. When training dangerous men and women to be even more dangerous it doesn't pay to assume what their breaking point is. No, it's far more logical and cost effective to employ extremely gifted therapists, psychologists and behavioral scientists to find out exactly what those breaking points are without reaching them. Men and women with miltary psych ops backgrounds, former social workers and individuals experienced in dealing with hardened prisoners. Corporate trainers who know how to recognize boredom or frustration by body-language and facial expressions. Former super-max prison guards who possessed a highly attuned sense of impending violence. Psychologists who'd worked with troubled children, all types of addictive personalities and those with first-hand knowledge of some of the most vile psychopaths in government custody. All of these individuals worked with and on the Elites of Devries, keeping tabs on them and keeping track of their stress levels. They had failed in matching Angus with Bill and failure was not an acceptable concept in regards to Elites.

Failure would not occur again.

So while he was convinced he was moments away from pounding the snot out of that jarhead who kept screaming at him about how to properly handle the BFG there were a dozen people who could assure him (and they would be right) that in fact this level of stress was optimal for keeping him focused and feeling productive. The attention made him feel valuable, the profanity made him comfortable and the body language (carefully taught) of the instructor made him secure in his safety but aware of the potential for danger, thus cementing his attention to the situation at hand.

And Bill was only one of many novas, Elites, being honed into a razor edge of aggressive brilliance by the talented men and women of Devries.

[VileBill]

The path to the Tree has been trod upon many a time since the Tree was erected. The Elites of Devries walk to the tree, regardless of whether or not they can pierce the boundaries of space or throw themselves into the sky trailing flame and smoke. They walk because they are on the path to honor a brother who has fallen. They walk because their comrade has fallen and they too shall bind themselves to the earth in remembrance. They walk in silence, honoring the dead as they know some day they will likely be honored.

The Tree was erected before the first Elite died. Anna Devries understood when she started hiring out novas to do battle that she would need to create an atmosphere that was different, a sort of esprit de corps that would set her warriors apart from the world. Her father had done this, his mercenaries were professional and filled with the pride of fighting under his banner. But her Elites had to be beyond that. These were men and women that could topple mountains and boil seas. Their lives were going to be different, so their identity had to be different. Each Elite must know and understand that he or she was a part of something unique, something worth having pride in. Anna had no false expectations that hers would remain the only company employing Novas, but she wanted hers to be the best. That meant more than employing the best and getting the best clients. That meant creating a world where everything let her Elites know, without a doubt, that they were a cut above everyone and everything else. That meant getting wizards to craft uniforms for them that would clothe them in glory or dread so that all would know to be Elite was to be a God on the battlefield. It meant training them in all manner of skill and knowledge. Elites were not just roving weapons, but trained warriors, capable of engaging in combat with the brilliance of Hannibal or Sun Tzu. The training facilities had to be something carved as if from myth and legend, each bringing a sense of awe to what being an Elite meant. The Coral City. Hell Town. Ground Zero. Dante’s Gym. The Forge. Each designed not only to test and challenge but to be talked about, respected and held in wonder. She left it to her Elites to create their own amusements, realizing that they would rise to the task and find ways to instill the same sense of magnificence in their playtime as she had into their professional lives. She wasn’t disappointed. The Last Chance Casino. Stone Crusher Thursdays. Ground Pounder’s Free-Fall Club. All that and more. But Anna knew that even more than their lives, their deaths had to scream of their Immorality. And thus the Tree.

The Tree had been an oak. Where it came from no one truly knew. It stretched up into the sky and seemed to be The Oak, that upon which the concept of a great and mighty tree came from. It was no longer wood and leaf though. No one had seen it in that form, some wondered if it had ever been truly a tree. It was now metal, stronger than steel and a lustrous grey that was somber and dignified. The Tree stands at the bottom of bowl shaped crater, leaving the impression that the tree crashed to earth and rent it asunder with its weight. The Elites who walk to this place stand around it in silence. Those of the greatest experience take their places closest to The Tree, as if acknowledging that through their battles they live closer to death, and immortality, than the others around them.

Once all have found their place Anna comes forward, bearing a symbol of the fallen warrior and she speaks. She speaks not of the warrior personally, she speaks of The Life. The life and experiences of an Elite. Personal memories would be spoken of later. This was the time of transition. One their own had left the living and was now Legend. A legend that will live on in memory and history, to be spoken of with the respect due to one that had dedicated themselves to an ideal. The ideal wasn’t one the world at large accepted or embraced, but that didn’t matter. Elites had built their own world, one in which glory and honor in battle meant something again. It was to this that Anna spoke. The ceremony at The Tree was to cement in everyone’s minds that whether it be life or death, the existence of an Elite was something special in the world.

After she is finished Anna calls Hephaestus to her side and presents him the fallen Elite’s mask for him to affix to The Tree. The Tree is covered with these symbols of the fallen Elites. Sometimes a mask, other times some other readily identifiable representation of the warrior. With a surge of Quantum and careful hands Hephaestus affixes the mask to the tree and it transitions to the same metal.

Then the Elites leave to grieve if they wish, as they wish. Some do, others leave without concern for their departed comrade. Perhaps there was bad blood, perhaps nothing as crude as that, simply a lack of connection. But regardless, the moment, the memory of the dedication of a fallen Elite will remain in their minds and hearts.