Anthem's Fall

Chapter 80

Chapter Forty-One

Vengelis

Vengelis stared dazedly at the backside of Gravitas as he soared northward, his tattered Imperial First Class armor growing smaller in the distance and finally disappearing into the cloud of doom that was billowing from the falling skyscraper. Suddenly alone in the shadow of the afternoon, Vengelis slumped against the side of the broken window and watched an unhinged billboard sway back and forth across the avenue. He tried to compose his body and his mind but found himself unable. His broken ribs made even breathing a painstaking struggle, and when he tried to make a fist, he realized his forearm and most of his knuckles were broken.

Strange calamitous noises echoed across the city from the falling skyscraper, and a developing dark cloud expelled from the streets around its base. Gravitas was holding up the building, Vengelis had no doubt about it. It was an unspeakable insult. Gravitas had turned his back on him, as though he were no longer even a threat. Bitter hate brewed in Vengelis's chest. It was Gravitas's fault the skyscraper was in danger of collapsing at all. Inflicting damage to the buildings of New York had never been a part of his plan. Gravitas's rashness was to blame for the failing skyscraper, and yet here he was acting as though he were the decent and respectable one between the two of them. Vengelis could not believe how much he hated the Nerols, father and son both.

"Who do you think you are?" Vengelis screamed unsteadily to no one, his voice hoarse. "Nerol! We're not finished!"

The roar sent spasms of pain up his side, and Vengelis let out a constricted exhale with a grimace. He hacked and spit up bloody phlegm, unable to guess how many ribs must be cracked. His body was broken, but he was too overwhelmed with rage and exasperation to acknowledge it. Mumbling to himself, Vengelis reached into his armor and pulled out the Harbinger I remote. Things were spiraling out of control, and the situation had escalated more than he could have possibly imagined. Vengelis could not wrap his mind around why he and Gravitas Nerol were so evenly matched. On top of that, somewhere in the craven multitude far below, a scientist capable of manipulating Felix technology had Sejero genetics within her grasp. In their unfathomable hubris, the humans were going to bring about their own destruction.

And it was undeniably his fault.

Vengelis looked down to the glowing display of the remote and commanded the Harbinger I to lift off and head to his location. It was time to cut his losses. He stashed the remote back into his dinted armor and peered around the afternoon with shaky vision. The buildings that rose around him were in shambles. It looked as though gigantic bullets had riddled them, structural damage from his fight with Gravitas.

Hoff and Darien were dead. They, too, had joined the fallen ranks of the rest of the massacred Imperial First Class. So much death and destruction, all in the name of some mysterious cause that now seemed vain and futile. He was the last one left.

How had it come to this?

Vengelis lifted from his position against the side of the building and pushed out into the open air, rising unsteadily and flying northward up the avenue in the direction Gravitas had gone. A fine dust hung in the air, catching the rays of sunlight. Traveling listlessly above the oblong shadow of the leaning skyscraper, the dust added striking contrast to the daylight and the shadow.

Vengelis felt wayward and grieved at the cruel cards dealt to him by fate. To this world and their narrow scope, he was the villain, and he resented it deeply. He was another victim, like them, doing his best given the circumstances. Vengelis longed more than anything to be back on Anthem. Even the killing fields of Sejeroreich would suit him.