Elysium Falling (ONC 2024 Long List)

Chapter 3 Homecoming

The Palace looked the same, down to the last stale concrete block. Rowan had often wondered why it was called a "palace." It resembled nothing of a glorious building with beautiful architecture. It was a square concrete building - no grand beautiful architecture adorned its halls. It housed a large training facility for The Watchers. That was it.

The gray pillars and black doors smelled of the sweat, blood, and tears of those who washed out. A lucky few made it to the top ranks after brutally transforming into something that didn't ask too many questions. It made Rowan an anomaly.

He sighed as he followed Dik and his small army of henchmen. Dik hadn't bothered to restrain him. He was now being blocked from sending or receiving any information from the net. He shivered as the door clanged shut behind him with a deadly finality. This had once been home.

The palace for its grand name housed one of the largest burial grounds for washouts on this side of the empire. Their names were not recorded. They simply did not exist and never were. Which made this charade even more interesting. Technically he was a thing that did not exist, a shadow in someone's eye that they couldn't let go of.

His nose wrinkled as he walked down the long hallway. The memories flooded without permission. He inhaled. This meeting was going to be interesting. Someone wouldn't let him go. He was a thing that did not exist, a tool they'd misshapen.

"Love what you've done with the place," Rowan said out loud. "It feels almost lively."

From the back of the line was a snicker that was quickly smothered. So they weren't all completely obedient. Rowan cast a quick look at Dik who rolled his eyes. 

"They don't pay for decorations only order...," Dik recited.

"For the good of the public," Rowan finished. "I fucking remember." And he did. The mantras he'd been forced to recite over and over again until they were part of everyday conversation. He hated them now. 

The doors opened again into an arena. Not just any arena but The Arena, the main practice room, and if they were honest about it, the exhibition. Weaponry stacked to the right, towels to the left, and a raised stage in the middle. Rowan sighed. He was going to give a demonstration or die trying. Who knew who was watching? Given the number of contracts he'd completed over his two-hundred-year run, he could only imagine a full room.

"What's this?"

"The cost of your meeting," Dik said.

"Dick, we talked about this," Rowan snapped. "How many do you want to lose?"

"Hopefully, just one, asshole," Dik snarled as he walked away. His feet kicked up a small amount of dust. Fighting here was normally done barefoot and bare-fisted. 

High up in the far was a black window. They all knew it was there but no one ever really knew who sat inside. The observation for those who chose the best of the best from the doomed recruits. This was where you won your contracts. No other details were necessarily given. Just names, places, no whys or hows. 

Rowan looked up and lifted a middle finger, flashing the box. Politics were politics, he wasn't back for the long term. These guys hopefully would get that soon.

"Cocky bastard," someone muttered from the side. 

The rest of Dik's Watchers fanned out behind him. 

Rowan had mentally counted at least twenty but who knew how many would actually show up. His body tensed but he forced himself to relax as he slowly took off his jacket and glanced around. It was the biggest waste of life he'd seen. He blinked an eye. Recording flashed across his vision. Maybe they'd check out the video later. O