03-05-2015, 10:23 AM
At last the door creaked open and the old form of Theis slowly wheeled into the room. For a moment his lips compressed in sorrow as he took in the sight of this brilliant old man. Such a mind, imprisoned in his own body from an accident, of all things. And now age was taking its toll. The very idea repulsed him. He was vital, a man of action, despite his age, as many had learned to their sorrow. But he could not pretend that he did not suffer from the occasional aches or pains from activities that would have meant nothing to him in his youth. Indeed, those realizations each morning only strengthened his drive to keep pushing himself, demanding that he stay physically sharp.
Still, it was a reminder of their limited nature. And that time passed by relentlessly, an unending river of history no one could stop. Even so, though, they had power. The appropriate actions at the right time could shift the current of that river, a dropping of a pebble creating waves that could build as they interacted with another.
One just had to know where to drop.
The Regus stood, walking over to shake his hand, giving the old man honor. "Welcome, Theis." His usually glacial blue eyes held a glint of warmth in them. For the man whose insights had proved so invaluable, it was true. Theis' knowledge of tactics and strategy was deep. They had provided clues as to what really happened so long ago, as they scoured the old texts and inscriptions of the god-wars of the past. More than that, his connections with arm's dealers and governments, with research firms and think-tanks, gave him access to new technologies that would help level the field against the reborn gods.
It was that last that was the biggest reason for the warmth in his eyes. In only a short time, his vision of the Orders of the Archangels was becoming reality. The reborn gods would find that humanity had grown claws and fangs, that it could defend itself against them more easily. And at a lesser cost. The river swirled beneath. It was time to drop the pebble.
To the man's words, he responded. "Our place in history was set long ago. The fulfillment of prophecy has drawn near." An uncharacteristic smile wanted to show itself. "We Atharim are called once again to save mankind." A twinge of his anger at the existence of Apollyon threatened to rise, but he tamped it down. It was easy to do, given the purpose of their meeting.
He gestured to the table, and then went to sit down. "I trust your work was fruitful." His movements were energized. A strange feeling stirred in him. After his mother's death, adopted and cared for by women of the brothels, little gifts, sweet treats or the like, were occasionally given when available. Usually something small and spontaneous. But what he felt today was almost akin to what he had felt that one Christmas Eve, that anticipation and excitement, knowing they had all chipped in to get him something special.
He felt young again. His eyes shone, hungry to see what Theis had found for them.
Still, it was a reminder of their limited nature. And that time passed by relentlessly, an unending river of history no one could stop. Even so, though, they had power. The appropriate actions at the right time could shift the current of that river, a dropping of a pebble creating waves that could build as they interacted with another.
One just had to know where to drop.
The Regus stood, walking over to shake his hand, giving the old man honor. "Welcome, Theis." His usually glacial blue eyes held a glint of warmth in them. For the man whose insights had proved so invaluable, it was true. Theis' knowledge of tactics and strategy was deep. They had provided clues as to what really happened so long ago, as they scoured the old texts and inscriptions of the god-wars of the past. More than that, his connections with arm's dealers and governments, with research firms and think-tanks, gave him access to new technologies that would help level the field against the reborn gods.
It was that last that was the biggest reason for the warmth in his eyes. In only a short time, his vision of the Orders of the Archangels was becoming reality. The reborn gods would find that humanity had grown claws and fangs, that it could defend itself against them more easily. And at a lesser cost. The river swirled beneath. It was time to drop the pebble.
To the man's words, he responded. "Our place in history was set long ago. The fulfillment of prophecy has drawn near." An uncharacteristic smile wanted to show itself. "We Atharim are called once again to save mankind." A twinge of his anger at the existence of Apollyon threatened to rise, but he tamped it down. It was easy to do, given the purpose of their meeting.
He gestured to the table, and then went to sit down. "I trust your work was fruitful." His movements were energized. A strange feeling stirred in him. After his mother's death, adopted and cared for by women of the brothels, little gifts, sweet treats or the like, were occasionally given when available. Usually something small and spontaneous. But what he felt today was almost akin to what he had felt that one Christmas Eve, that anticipation and excitement, knowing they had all chipped in to get him something special.
He felt young again. His eyes shone, hungry to see what Theis had found for them.