Silver Saint

Eight: Better Angels

//Report: Quinn, Jackson.

//Saint Corp Plaza.

//Horizon City.

//Greece.

//Resume log.

"And here we are!" Sanviento threw his arms open in a wide flourish as we stepped through the sliding front doors. "Welcome to the Plaza!"

Dan, Lucas, Amani and I stood together at the entrance of the building, staring up in awe at the immense room that sprawled out before us. Saint Corp's central facility was absolutely immense, an open-plan room of metal walls, wood trim and white marble finish bordered by an immense geometric dome of glass overhead.

Bizarrely enough, most of the space was completely open, undivided by specific rooms or hallways. The natural barriers that divided the space were just that—natural. Plants, water features and even entire rows of trees turned the comparatively empty space into a shockingly lush indoor garden that separated parts of the facility.

Where plants couldn't cover, height or glass did the trick; I counted at least seven storeys of platforms throughout the space, criss-crossed by various pedways, elevators and staircases. In some ways, it reminded me of the Firmament.

Far above our heads, the facility's central tower protruded proudly into the sky, surrounded by the Plaza itself. It seemed that this immense building circled the entire base of the tower, interrupted only by a concrete moat in between, through which I could see countless Guardian mechs assembling.

Compared to the open space of the Plaza, access to the tower was comparatively limited—I counted only a handful of pedways that extended from the plaza across the concrete moat between the buildings, locking the two buildings together like the hub and spokes of a wagon wheel.

All around us, people in white-collared shirts hustled about between workstations, performing countless tasks. Some glanced our way, and I even saw a few employees duck out of sight or begin whispering to each other.

Michael Sanviento, for his part, seemed to ignore the glances and whispers of his staff—it was clear he was used to it.

I wasn't sure what to think of the bizarre billionaire who had funded SPEAR for all these years—after shaking his hand, the man had immediately launched into his tour, guiding us away from the dropship and into the facility. He spoke at a mile a minute, rattling off specifications about the building's eco-friendly nature and the staff count, but it was hard to keep up with his sales pitch.

We were working for a corporation.

I'd known this for a while now, ever since General Mallet had told us in her office, but the information was so much harder to accept when seeing it in-person.

I trusted my General, knew that she'd made countless compromises and sacrifices to keep SPEAR alive, but it was hard to feel reassured when I was making nice with the very type of person I'd trained all my life to help destroy.

It was clear that the others felt the same way—neither Amani, Dan nor Lucas spoke a word as we followed Sanviento on his tour, too emotionally drained to pipe up any further. The Firmament was gone, our friends were dead and now we are working for a corporation. It felt like a cosmic joke.

"Right this way, folks!" Sanviento declared. We followed in his footsteps as he strode across the open floor, marching us further into the building and away from the doors. We continued to match his blistering pace as he passed rows of desks, benches and countless white leather couches until, at long last, he came to a stop at the base of an indoor fountain.

Like the building itself, the fountain was impressively ornate, a cascading swirl of plaster and glass almost a storey tall. At its peak was a brilliant marble statue of a man in a suit that looked almost identical to Sanviento, with one hand outstretched to point toward the sky and the other clutching a small globe. My eyes darted to a placard at its base.