06-22-2014, 05:45 PM
He sensed the tone.
Despite the childishness, there were truths. First among them, Michael's estimation of their numbers. Of 'us.'
He knows. Nikolai held his gaze. But how?
Doctor Weston. The head of The Facility held clearance far exceeding Vellas. According to reports, they spent a great deal of time together. Had the doctor betrayed his confidence?
Another truth: The Atharim. Their mission was clear. To eradicate them all without thought for logic and friendship. 'I am the worst monster to walk the world, and you will never succeed.'
They were likely the reason he fled from his Australian home. "You've been hunted by assassins for years?"
Nikolai's question held no sympathy; he'd been tracked by them two-fold the length of Michael's short life, but, inwardly, he moved on from thoughts of his former society. 'I'm joining the occult, aren't I?' He'd asked with a laugh, 'Yeah. You're going to love it.' But the betrayal haunted. He'd been content in his master's Datsan.
"Indeed, there will be more men who think themselves more worthy of my title."
The title he created to rule an empire he united. Trano was right: the empire would collapse the day he died.
Which is why he did not intend to die.
He laid his arms on the sides of the chair and leaned forward, voice calm and quiet, gripping Michael's gaze. "While fear is a great power, there is something greater."
He paused, seeking the young man's face for a guess as to what that might be. Nikolai could see the man's nature: collected rage and brutish methods. He doubted this young man contemplated this level of wisdom. But perhaps. Perhaps.
"Loyalty."
... They follow the grass.
The answer was plain in his writings.
His head tilted. The sensation of rightness spun around him. If Nikolai looked quickly enough, he was sure he'd be able to glimpse the cloak of fate itself settle upon their skin.
"Do I have yours?"
Despite the childishness, there were truths. First among them, Michael's estimation of their numbers. Of 'us.'
He knows. Nikolai held his gaze. But how?
Doctor Weston. The head of The Facility held clearance far exceeding Vellas. According to reports, they spent a great deal of time together. Had the doctor betrayed his confidence?
Another truth: The Atharim. Their mission was clear. To eradicate them all without thought for logic and friendship. 'I am the worst monster to walk the world, and you will never succeed.'
They were likely the reason he fled from his Australian home. "You've been hunted by assassins for years?"
Nikolai's question held no sympathy; he'd been tracked by them two-fold the length of Michael's short life, but, inwardly, he moved on from thoughts of his former society. 'I'm joining the occult, aren't I?' He'd asked with a laugh, 'Yeah. You're going to love it.' But the betrayal haunted. He'd been content in his master's Datsan.
"Indeed, there will be more men who think themselves more worthy of my title."
The title he created to rule an empire he united. Trano was right: the empire would collapse the day he died.
Which is why he did not intend to die.
He laid his arms on the sides of the chair and leaned forward, voice calm and quiet, gripping Michael's gaze. "While fear is a great power, there is something greater."
He paused, seeking the young man's face for a guess as to what that might be. Nikolai could see the man's nature: collected rage and brutish methods. He doubted this young man contemplated this level of wisdom. But perhaps. Perhaps.
"Loyalty."
... They follow the grass.
The answer was plain in his writings.
His head tilted. The sensation of rightness spun around him. If Nikolai looked quickly enough, he was sure he'd be able to glimpse the cloak of fate itself settle upon their skin.
"Do I have yours?"