[Arknights] The Originium Gambit

Part 10: Igray, igray, rasskazyvay, Talyanochka, sama!

IMPORTANT AUTHOR'S NOTE AT THE END!! 

(This chapter has 7419 words)

"I refuse."

For the first time, her expression changed. The faint smile that had seemed etched into her face disappeared, replaced by a frown. Her eyes narrowed, and the weight of her gaze bore down on me like a predator sizing up its prey.

"Do you know why this world is what it is?" she asked, her voice stripped of its usual calm, laced with an edge of impatience.

"What, you're going to go all philosophical on me now?" I shot back, leaning against the table, feigning indifference. The ticking in my head quickened, but I forced myself to ignore it.

Her frown deepened, and for the first time, I sensed something almost human in her—frustration. "Call it philosophy if you like. But consider this; a world that thrives on exploitation, fueled by a resource that devours all it touches. A society built not to last, but to extract, to consume, to burn itself out. Tell me, Romanov—does that sound sustainable to you?"

I scoffed. "Sustainability? Do I look like someone who cares about the environment? What's your point?"

"My point," she said, stepping closer, her voice lowering to an almost conspiratorial tone, "is that this world doesn't just exist. It was designed this way. Shaped by choices made long before you walked its surface. Choices that were flawed, selfish, short-sighted."

"And let me guess," I said dryly, "you're here to fix it."

"No," she replied, her gaze hardening. "I'm here to end it."

The words hung in the air.

"End it?" I repeated, my voice a mix of disbelief and bitter amusement. "That's your grand solution? Wipe the slate clean and hope for something better to grow from the ashes?"

Her expression softened, but it wasn't compassion—it was pity. "You think this world can be saved, Romanov? That its foundations aren't already crumbling beneath your feet?"

"I think," I said, drumming my fingers on the table. "That you're just another zealot looking for someone to validate your crusade. And you picked the wrong guy." I smiled.

She didn't reply. Her expression remained unreadable, a mask of something between amusement and disappointment. And then, as quietly as she had arrived, she disappeared.

A sharp crack jolted me back to reality.

"This session will be the first Congressional Investigative Committee into the Standard Originium Corporation Holding Company," Senator Redding declared, his voice stern as he brought the gavel down.

Ah, the present. Back to the stage.

You, yes, you. Ignore all that schizophrenic nonsense from earlier. Just white noise, static in the background. And those shadowy figures lingering at the edges of my vision? Pretend they aren't there. You've always been my ally, my confidant, haven't you?

Now, let me educate you about congressional hearings. Fun fact; they're not the final authority on much of anything. They're theater, really, a grand stage for preening egos and dramatic sound bites. They exist to hear, to perform. The true authority? That lies within the Supreme Court to decide.

And I, being a man of vision, once had a plan—a righteous one, or at least as close to righteous as I'm capable of. I wanted this case to go to the Supreme Court. Wanted the SOC dismantled, shattered into a thousand little pieces, each more manageable, more... profitable. A beautiful redistribution of power disguised as justice.