The Start ...

Saedran walked among the wreckage, the only sounds were the faint lowing of the survivors, and the muted crunch of snow under his boots. A series of small fires burned away the endless snow, and despite the scene of carnage, the warmth was almost welcomed. Dark silhouettes moved about the crash site, and his attention flickered to one in particular, "Malus," he murmured softly, only ever speaking loud enough to be heard by the man, "gather the survivors. Take those fit enough for interrogation and execute the rest."  He looked at the emblazoned letters of Spire engraved in the hull of the destroyed ship, and turned his back on the scene.  He knew it wouldn't be long until a recovery team was sent out to investigate.

The man began to meander off from the warmth of the flames, and searched over the horizon, peering through the forming blizzard for any sign of them when suddenly a flicker of lights caught his attention. He knew they weren't far from an installation, and it seemed they weren't too keen on leaving their fallen ship in the hands of pirates. After all who knew what could be done with Spire technology. Saedran himself knew that the salvage was sorely outdated, but it was all part of a bigger ruse. The only reason he had found it was because he had been searching this remote corner of the universe for some time.

Saedran began to walk towards the oncoming lights, until the only company he kept was the sound of his breath, and the steady rhythm of each step. He hadn't told his crew the truth of why there were marauding out in the middle of no where; in truth it was a long shot, but he couldn't admit his desperation. After all, it was the very key stone to bringing Spire down to its very foundation.

He hadn't gotten terribly far when the lights began to grow brighter, and he knew they would be upon him in a matter of seconds. He knelt down in the snow, and pulled the gun free from his hip. Then the first of them came tearing over the snow bank, a small vehicle, sleek and almost invisible against the snow; the heat of its engine flared over him, and without hesitation he brought the gun up to the underside of its belly, and the sound of a single gunshot rang out over the world of ice. Saedran slowly sat up as the vehicle came skittering to a halt, and crashed in to a nearby wall of ice.

The others turned about but he was already moving before the lights could swing about. Standing on top of the vehicle, he aimed down at the thick carapice, and watched as it slid open with a loud hiss. Then another gunshot. He reached in and pulled out the corpse of the pilot, before dropping in to place. It was still functional, though just barely; but it was all he needed. The pod suddenly closed on him, and the dull sound of bullets ricocheting off its exterior weren't enough to even make him flinch.

He quickly busied himself with the computer, and a small map appeared. Once he was satisfied he flipped a switch and quickly began to strap himself in, when in the moment it took for him to draw a breath, it was suddenly stolen from him when the pod exploded from the carcass, and he was violently ejected from its remains. He gripped the chair when the wind suddenly flared with a searing heat, and the remains went up in flames. Suddenly he was coming down, and when the parachute ejected, Saedran was jostled from his safe descent.

Everything was eerily quiet as he dropped to the earth in a free fall. He couldn't tell up from down, and saw nothing but white and grey, until suddenly the ground rushed up to meet him, and he sunk in to a large snow drift. Pain shot through his legs, and jarred his entire spine. A hissing sound escaped him, and when everything stopped spinning he carefully pushed himself upright once more. He wasn't far from what he was looking for. Struggling to his feet, the man began to wander off in to the cold, deadset on his destination. He didn't know how long he had been walking for, and there was a brief moment of doubt – maybe he was going to die out here, cold and alone, but there was no point to living he was wrong.

Just when it seemed that there was nothing but the desolate waste, his foot caught on something burried in the snow, and he came crashing to the ground. There was nothing but the cold and numbness. His chest rose and fell with each ragged breath, and his limbs felt strangely heavy. When he looked down at his foot, however, he knew he had found what he was looking for. Digging through the heavy snow revealed a small round hatch, and the handle he had tripped over. He gripped the handle with determination and pulled, but who knew how many years of ice and snow had weighed it down. Saedran was about ready to abandon the entrance, but he knew that it was the only one he would find before the cold killed him.

He looked around with wild eyes, and he knew that there was nothing there to help him, so instead he went back to trying to force the hatch open. His shoulders protested against the effort and his legs trembled, when suddenly the groan of metal and ice splintering gave him cause to redouble his efforts, and the hatch began to loosen. It felt like an eternity of pulling, and by the time it finally sprung free, there was hardly any strength left in him. When the shaft finally opened, he looked in to the darkness, before carefully climbing down the latter set in the wall. The further in he went, the more he began to understand the lack of response to his attack.

It was large as any installation that belonged to Spire, built deep beneath the surface of the planet, but the emptiness was unnerving. The only light he had to go by were faulty beacons that dimly lit a walkway that hung over a large chasm which creaked under the sudden added weight. He didn't care to stop and contemplate the perfectly rounded and smooth walls carved through the ice, and the beauty of its glistening tears were lost to the grim man. There was only one thing he came down here for, and that was all that mattered.  

Some time had passed when Saedran finally found what he was looking for, and the sight of it gave him pause. He had been looking for three years, and finally he found it. A large metal canister set in the wall, with tubes and wires frozen over by persperation. The control board beside it was barely functional and all the other machines had been shut down, the remaining power designated to this one thing, the painted letters long since faded. Saedran punched in a command to the command board, and when nothing moment he wondered if the system had been damaged, when suddenly he was met by a loud hiss and steam escaped from the seamless shell.  The doors cracked open, and a figure slumped over in time for him to catch the woman.

She felt cold in his arms, and her lips were as pale as the dead. Her bare skin was smooth and flawless. The woman was breathtaking, to say the least, but what marked the success of his searching was the faint pulse that danced under his fingers when he carefully pressed them to her frail neck. It wasn't much, but hopefully it would be enough. Reaching in to the pocket of his jacket, he flicked on a small beacon before shrugging off his coat and draping it around the unconscious figure's slender shoulders. Now all that was left was to wait for Malus to find him.




_______________________________________________

Orders were given, and they were obeyed. With style and class that Malus decided to dictate to each endeavor however he pleased. Saedran said, 'Gather the survivors. Take those fit enough for interrogation and execute the rest.' The dear Captain gave him the ability to express himself in any way he desired, wise man. He knew if Malus did not get his playfulness out one way or the other chaos would ensue.

His slim body slid off a warm piece of wreckage, twirling his signature scalpel between those skillful digits, as he descended towards the poor survivors that were rounded up by the crew. A sadistic grin bloomed, his green hues shaded with his raven colored hair. "Choices, choices." He only spoke once, followed by the screams of many grown men that even made flames and ashes lose their fiery stomachs.

Malus tilted his chin up only at the mention from one of the crew members that the Captain was missing. He craned his back straight once more, whipping crimson liquid from his jaw. “Mhm,” Was his reply as his eyes glared over the surroundings. His right hand let go of two round chucks of flesh he was working away at, then the other placed his scalpel in its desired location. Without a word he transcended into the snowy lands, mounting his crescent curved bike.

Finding Saedran was not all difficult for the Malus. He had talents he did not otherwise share in group consoling sessions. His entrance was eerie as it always been, silent, almost undeniable, until he cracked his neck to the side, making the bones shift to the corrected alinement. Just at this moment the Captain was at work on the command board. “How does it feel to have a woman finally fall into your arms?” This was a common aspect of life for Malus, but the Captain, never.


_____________________________________

Saedran didn't so much as flinch at the sound of his second's approach, guessing he had already made quick work of the survivors; He hefted his burden off the floor and looked at the only man he could call a friend with a steel gaze, though didn't return his quip, "She's cold. Barely breathing." He looked back at the woman that hung limply in his arms. She was light and gaunt. She wouldn't of survived much longer had he not of found her. He stood eerily still as he watched her, though it was clear he was considering his next course of action. He knew he had come ill prepared, but that was the problem with the suddenness of it all. Instead of making his way back to the entrance, he turned and looked at the gloom of the rest of the installation. A soft sigh was the only sound of his discontent as he made his way down the hall as his mind raced through the memories of being a former Spire subject, only able to guess at the layout of the compound.

It was unsettling with how quiet it was. Normally a place of this size was a hive of activity, but silence hung thick in the air, so disturbingly so, that even he supressed the urge to shudder. Nothing moved or breathed, and every instinct told him to turn and leave - but he directed his thoughts to counting every carefully measured step as he wandered about with Malus ever faithfully at his elbow, until finally turning a corner brought him to a dead halt. There at the end of a corridor stood a sillhouette as still as the ice around it. Saedran carefully stepped forward and when the guard didn't move from his post, he knew he had died and quietly muttered, "fool fell asleep. Cold took him." Pausing at the door, he looked over the corpse and only shook his head.

Saedran turned his attention from the body to the door in front of them. It was his best guess that this was the infirmary, and one of the few places that would still have whatever power was left. He stepped back and fixed Malus with an expecting gaze, inviting him to open the door, his arms full with the woman he was so keen on saving. He shifted his weight slightly, and it was quite obvious that the oh-so stalwart captain was eager to leave as quickly as possible. He had been to places similar to this, and he didn't care to find out if anything other than her survived the cold; though the real question that picked at the back of his mind was why such an important asset had been seemingly abandoned.