Season 1, Episode 6 - The Tree Plot XXXVI - "Clayton vs Alcyone"

Just as Alcyone fired the shotgun, Clayton sent out a blast of wind. The forces collided; the buckshot scattered, avoiding Clayton but plunging into the wall all around him. Unlike concealing his own sound, Clayton couldn’t silence the sound of gunfire; sooner or later, the entire warehouse would be on him.

Two things hamstrung Clayton at the moment - the indescribable disappointment that this wasn’t Eos, and not having any idea of what he should do now. Should he capture and interrogate Alcyone for the Academy? Should he just hightail it out of there?

Hanai would’ve known. But Clayton was on his own now.

Alcyone leapt over the desk and raised her hand; Rddhi flashed and sparked in her palm, coalescing into a thin brown fishing rod. It quickly became apparent that Alcyone didn’t need to swing the rod to reach the desired effect - the even thinner line and hook at the end darted out from the rod and snaked its way through Clayton’s air blasts to pierce him through the palm. Alcyone yanked on the rod - whether it was for dramatic effect or actual necessity was unclear - and sent Clayton across the office and crashing into a wall.

Operating manually, Clayton ripped the line out of his hand. A stinging pain remained where the hook had implanted himself, but Clayton had a new priority in mind. Forget capturing or escaping - his only goal was to survive. Alcyone was just as dangerous as Shokahu warned.

She stood on her desk, wearing a dark brown heavy jacket and mottled military fatigues, strands of blonde hair falling across her forehead. She spun the rod in her hand; multiple lines shot out of it, all racing towards Clayton. Recognizing that the small space of the office was to Alcyone's advantage, Clayton let out a gust at full throttle. The hurricane-level wind sent all the stacks of paper flying into the air; Alcyone fell off the desk, which soon joined the growing tornado as well. Cracks appeared in the walls as Clayton groaned from the exertion, and then the entire exterior of the office exploded.

With Alcyone hopefully stunned and nothing holding him back, Clayton decided to flee. He walked in on something far bigger than himself and needed backup.

Maybe, after all, I need Hanai, too.

But before he could prepare an apology speech, gunfire erupted from the storage area. Tracers flashed through the dimly lit warehouse, their orange colors zooming by dangerously close to Clayton. The exposed catwalk offered little protection; he kept up a constant stream of wind to knock the bullets away as he sprinted back towards the window he entered through.

A sharp pain pierced his ankle, then the catwalk greeted his face with a metal bang as his legs gave out beneath him. Clayton looked back; Alcyone emerged from the rubble, rod in tow, with a line extending out from it until it hooked Clayton’s ankle.

When he reached down to rip the hook out, a second line plunged into his palm. He involuntarily cursed, then raised his other arm. As expected, a third line went to meet it, but Clayton blew it away. More gunfire then greeted him, forcing his free arm into dealing with it rather than holding Alcyone at bay.

“I’ve got you caught!” Alcyone called out from the ruins of the office. As Clayton deflected the bullets, the third line with its hook dangled menacingly in front of him, moving through the air like a snake toying with its food, knowing it could strike and kill at any time.

The catwalk suddenly rumbled and creaked; Clayton directed his wind down to slice right through it. As the catwalk gave way, the metal providing a temporary shield to the bullets, Clayton sent a slice of wind to knock out the supports below the catwalk Alcyone stood on. The third line retreated, giving off flashes similar to a tracer round as it instead stuck itself into the ceiling.

With a crash and an ear-splitting screech, the entire catwalk fell away into the storage area below. The surprised shouts and screams indicated the guards below were in a state of disarray; the gunfire halted and a cloud of smoke and debris covered the storage area. That just left Alcyone, who clung to her fishing road and swayed in the open air, with its third hook in the ceiling and the first two still inside Clayton.

That meant he still dangled in the air as well, held up by Alcyone’s hooks that kept him hoisted like a marionette. With all three of Alcyone's hooks - her apparent limit - occupied, Clayton used his free hand to tear the one out of his ankle; he grimaced when a chunk of flesh came with it. The hook writhed in his hand; Clayton blew it away with the wind until it disappeared into the cloud of smoke.

Moving quickly, Clayton ripped the other hook out of his hand. Finally freed, gravity immediately did its thing and pulled Clayton down to the storage area, but he had other plans. Even with his wounds, he used both hands to send out blasts of air to keep aloft. Clayton couldn’t exactly fly; he could propel himself enough times to reach a higher location. In this case, it would be the window; moonlight spilled through it, as did fresh air, offering freedom so tantalizingly close.

A hook burst out of the cloud; Clayton redirected a hand to blow it away. It slowed his upward glide, but that was alright - having closed much of the distance, one hand would be enough to get him through. As he battled the hook, moonlight spread across Clayton’s face as he arrived at the window-

“Gotcha!”

With Clayton so focused on the hook, he hadn’t noticed another hook emerging out of the cloud from behind him. The voice didn’t belong to Alcyone though; as he tilted his head back to see, his eyes widened.

“Shannen?”

A hook wrapped around her waist carried the would-be assassin with the flaming hair out of the cloud towards Clayton. The hook flung her towards Clayton, her sharp sword in hand.

Before he could react, Shannen drove the sword through his stomach. The pain felt excruciating; his insides felt like mush and hot pain seared throughout his body, lashing out from his stomach until his head pounded. His wind gave out; Shannen retracted the sword, sending blood spilling out into the cloud as it disappeared.

The two fell in unison. Shannen grabbed the scruff of his neck and then a hook tied itself around her arm. Alcyone lowered Shannen to the ground, where she tossed Clayton in a stack of crates. Wooden splinters pierced his back and the blurry sight of the two women filled his vision until his head slumped forward.

Clayton awoke to someone slapping him. As his vision came back to him, he found himself in a corner of the warehouse. Guards were moving catwalk debris off piles of crates, trying to salvage any of the crushed cargo. Bandages covered his stomach from where the sword entered; it was a clean cut and while his stomach still ached, it didn't feel like it was on fire anymore. Clayton tried to stand, but he couldn’t move; something dug into his wrists, which were tied behind his back to a metal pole. He emitted a gust of his wind, but his hands remained stuck and his efforts only earned him another slap.

“How does it feel?” Shannen asked, crouching in front of him. She held the flat side of her sword across her shoulders and wore a wicked grin. “This is the same type of knot you and your Academy used to tie me up. Should I do the same song and routine as your Chairman?”

She tightened her fist and struck him across the face. His head swam and he felt a streak of blood run down his lip.

“Radioactive sand, bamboo torture,” Shannen recalled from their first meeting. She shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll just beat you to death.”

She struck him again, this time close to his eye; it remained shut and rapidly swelled, turning into a sorry-looking purple color.

“Not talking?” Shannen asked rhetorically. “Your funeral.”

When she raised her fist again, a hand reached from behind and caught it. Alcyone arrived next to Shannen, looking calm despite the earlier fight.

“I’ll take over,” Alcyone proposed. She released Shannen’s arm and it fell to her side without protest. Shannen - aka, the bad cop - shook her head and spat on the ground, while Alcyone - aka, the good cop - began her own interrogation.

“Did she actually ask you any questions?”

Clayton just stared back at her with his one good eye.

Alcyone sighed. “Let’s start from the top then. Nobody here has to get hurt. Well, more hurt than they already are. It’s just that we got a schedule to keep, so we need to know if our plans have been exposed.”

Alcyone fished around her jacket pocket and produced Clayton’s wallet. “I got your student ID right here. West Narragansett Technical Academy, huh? A few of our recruits got killed there, so we killed a few of your mercenaries. Maybe our two sides are just destined to fight each other. But that’s in the capital. What I want to know is why we found an Academy student snooping around Second Restorationist business up here in Androscoggin.”

Clayton lowered his head. He just felt tired. “I thought you were someone else.”

Alcyone tilted her head. “Huh? Are you…that’s no fair!”

Stomps echoed around the warehouse as Alcyone stormed around. “Nobody ever cares about Alcyone! It’s always Alcyone, go up to the shitty town known as Androscoggin and live in the shantytown! Alcyone, get us our Thanksgiving turkeys! Nobody respects me. Well, when I’m done tomorrow, people will have to give me the proper respect I deserve.”

A couple of stomps later, Alcyone had calmed down. She looked at Shannen. “Sorry. I shouldn’t throw a temper tantrum in front of my junior.”

Shannen raised her arms. “No, no, you have a point,” she encouraged.

Her self-confidence restored, Alcyone crouched in front of Clayton. “So, you don’t know anything about our plans and crashed my warehouse just because you thought I was someone else?”

“A blonde woman. Her Rddhi power involved strings.”

Alcyone chuckled. “Well, that fits me, alright. Hmm…” Her eyes lit up. “Oh, do you mean Eos?”

Clayton immediately straightened up best he could. “You know her?”

The rumble of incoming trucks from outside interrupted their conversation. Alcyone looked at the warehouse’s loading docks. “You can see her yourself.”

The two women left Clayton to his thoughts as they oversaw an incoming delivery.

Could it really be her?

But just as when he stormed the office, he had no idea of what to say. If his hands were free, would he have fought her? He wanted - no, needed, the truth from her. How far would he go to find it?

He heard Alcyone’s voice before he saw her again. “Shannen, go get the money…so, how was the ride in? Any trouble with clean MPs?”

Two women emerged from behind a pile of crates. One was Alcyone, who was all smiles - and the other was a woman similar in age to Clayton. She grew her blonde hair shorter now, she had a small scar below an eye, and she traded her brown trenchcoat for a black longcoat, but the smile on her face, the way her eyes slowly, subtly drifted over the room to gauge her surroundings, the slight bounce in her step - there was no mistaking it.

“Eos?” Clayton asked, his voice cracking.

The smile dropped from Eos’s face, replaced with one of utter surprise. “Clayton?”

Neither member of the reunion said anything. Clayton always thought they would hug and cry, or fight and kill each other. Instead, they just stood in a silence only broken by the hum of the overhead lights and squeaks and bangs as floor jacks moved crates to and from the trucks.

“...should I leave?” Alycone asked, glancing between them. “Who’s this guy to you, Eos?”

The smile returned to her face. “I knew him a long time ago. Perhaps some alone time would do us good.”

“Don’t get freaky with him here,” Alcyone said. Footsteps approached. “Shannen, you got the money?”

Shannen held a large briefcase in her hand. “Got it. And the guards say we got the right amount of New York Minutes and Staten Suihankis as promised.”

Deep down, Clayton knew it was pathetic, but the lingering smile on Eos’s face burned into his memory and prevented him from pondering this newest bit of information.

The briefcase exchanged hands. “Good,” Alcyone said. “And you examined it to make sure the special ingredient is inside?”

Shannen gave her an ambitious grin. “Oh, it’s there, alright. I put a mark on the Minute holding it.”

“Excellent.” Alcyone turned to Eos, whose eyes scanned the briefcase for a moment. “Here’s the last payment. Between the goods and the Steel Works, this should cover it.”

She handed the briefcase over, and then the two women shook hands.

“Spend some time catching up,” Alcyone offered, gesturing with her head to her prisoner. “We’ll let you know when it’s time for you to leave.”

With that, the two Restorationist users walked off, with Shannen already barking orders at workmen until they disappeared within the labyrinth of crates. Though the warehouse was crawling with workers, Clayton felt utterly alone with Eos in this deep corner of the building.

He wasn’t sure how to start the conversation, so Eos took on her old role and initiated for them. She always did.

“It’s been a while.” Her voice sounded bittersweet.

She set the briefcase down gently. Rather than crouch, she knelt next to Clayton and raised a tender hand. She stroked his face; her fingers shone with nostalgia. “I’ve read about you in the papers. You got fourth in the intercity Rddhi competition last March. You’ve done good for yourself.”

Her voice grew a shade less sympathetic. “Though I guess the Academy has you doing their dirty work.”

“They wouldn’t leave me behind,” he spat out. He didn’t understand why. It’s not like he knew the truth. Yet he suspected the truth, and that was enough to levy such an accusation against her.

Eos cupped his face; while her fingertips were warm to the touch, her palm felt ice cold and sent shivers down Clayton’s spine. “You think I left you behind that day? I wouldn’t do that. You left me behind.”

Crates banged against each other as workmen loaded them into the waiting trucks. The whirl of ceiling fans mixed in with the hum of the lights to create a droning background noise.

“You don’t get it?” Eos asked when she saw the look of confusion on his face. “Let me explain. Back then, I wanted to leave this country, while you wanted to stay, so we compromised - we would stay and improve the country.”

She ruffled his hair; Clayton felt like a kid again in her presence, and he didn’t particularly enjoy it, no matter how soft her touch was. “You really thought we could improve this country,” Eos continued. “But as the years went on, I saw that this country had no such hope. It can’t be improved. The people and structures here are hopeless. Yet you never realized that. You clung onto hope and forced me to stay.”

Shrill orders from Shannen echoed around the warehouse.

“Ever since the day you left me, I wasn’t sure about that anymore,” Clayton admitted, directing his eyes toward the ground. “I feel like I’ve been living life on autopilot. I’m here, but not really.” He glanced off to the side, trying to avoid meeting her eyes. “Maybe we should’ve just ran away that day.”

This time, she brought both of her hands to his face, holding it lightly on either side. The cold almost felt overwhelming. “Do you want me to give you a second chance?” she asked softly. “Do you want me to cut your binds and offer to run away right now?”

Clayton didn’t answer. Sure, she and everything about her - her soft touch, her subtle scent - were right here, but then he thought about Hanai and Coleridge and what’s her name and the brick buildings of the Academy where he had friends and a life.

“Unfortunately, I can’t,” Eos said, bringing Clayton back to reality. “We chose to stay here, so we need to finish things. On that day in Sebago, I kept moving ahead, even if it was without you, because I’m here to destroy this country now. If you’d like to destroy it with me, then here’s your chance.”

“Eos…” Clayton pleaded. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” Eos questioned. “Don’t tell me that, deep down, you really still do have hope for this country?”

Clayton’s answer was simpler. “This country is home to a few people I care about.”

“Then you are lost.” Eos removed her hands, taking the cold with them. She stood at her full height - she had grown a few inches since they last met. “My side is going to be victorious. Nothing can change that.”

Her eyes softened. “Fate brought us together,” she said. Was Clayton hearing right? Was she the one pleading now? “And the Restorationists will either kill you outright or use you as leverage over your Academy. Your best chance is running away with me. We can do it right now. C’mon. It’ll be like the old days. Please.”

That’s when Clayton noticed. A hidden red string of Rddhi had slipped out from her palm and was now circling around his back. He couldn’t tell if it was going for his heart or to remove the binds.

“You left me behind that day because we didn’t see things the same way,” Clayton surmised. He looked at the ground, gathering his thoughts, then tilted his face upwards. Her eyes lacked the conviction he displayed in his. “Guess you’ll have to do it again.”