Kilgore either doesn't notice or doesn't care.
My bet is on the latter. Even if Dabria hadn't described him as the most dangerous man alive, I would have still sensed the raw menace that radiates from his every movement. He is both tense and relaxed; every step light and catlike, every muscle coiled like steel springs ready to release unrelenting carnage.
Dabria is far more relaxed than I am, meeting his murderous suggestion with a cool glance. Finally out of her sleek black combat armor, she wears the crimson uniform of the Blood Legion veterans. "I have him in line, Kilgore. He's my responsibility, not your concern."
He folds his muscular arms, sneering at me. "Anything that can jeopardize the mission is my concern. I'm taking a huge risk taking an unproven potential asset in at the last phase of the operation."
"An operation that requires and ace in hand to ensure its success. You gave me the task of securing the ace, and that's what I did. Are you having second thoughts in the most crucial moment?"
His mouth stretched into a snarling grin. "Never. Especially not when change is about to come crashing down on us. Have you seen the footage from Neo York?"
He gestures to a feed display on the central console, where a massive crowd is gathered outside the Rescue Combat Enforcement building, most wearing masks and wielding bladed and bludgeoning weapons. A curtail of RCE officers and riot squad mechs stand in formation around the building.
The camera focuses on three prisoners kneeling on the steps of the building. A tall, handsome man with elvish features stands in front of them, flanked by imposing android guards.
Kilgore nods. "The Justiciar for Haven Core."
A Justiciar. I've never seen one before. They are members of the Denizens, the royalty of Haven Core, which houses the Ministry of Law and Justice as well as the Ministry of Security and Defense. Justiciars are the final word on judgment, members of the Supreme Court of the Havens.
When the Justiciar finishes speaking, the androids stomp over to the weeping prisoners and places their large hands on the prisoner's heads. Then with a brutal yank, they tear the heads off, still attached to most of the backbones. The casualness of the brutality makes my stomach churn, but I can't take my eyes off the screen when the crowd erupts in raucous cheering and celebratory shouts.
Kilgore pauses the feed when the androids lift the grisly trophies high for the people to see. "Do you realize what we just witnessed?"
I don't, so I look at Dabria, who still stares wonderingly at the screen. Her lips part as if she sees something rapturous.
"That was judgment ruled against fellow Denizens, in full view of Haven outsiders."
"That's right. And that's not even the best part. Turns out the whole fiasco was the result of an outsider. A man who calls himself Vigil caught the three Denizens in an underground child sex cult of all things."
"Disgusting."
"Yeah. Vigil busted the cult and left the Denizens literally hanging for everyone to see. Nothing the Haven could do about it but pronounce judgment."
"You know they can't be happy about that."
"Doesn't matter. What matters is that it's spreading. Vigil's actions started an underground movement. In cities across the Territories, people are stepping up to stop injustice and protect their communities. They're calling themselves the Vigilant."
Dabria stares at him. "Just like you said. The revolution is beginning. Do we reach out to Vigil?"
"He'll reach out to us when the time is right. For now, we have our work to do." Kilgore gives me a look of searing contempt. "Make sure to keep him on a tight leash. I can't guarantee his safety if he strays, ace or not."
Brushing past me, he exits the command center striding through the crowds of soldiers, who part to let him pass as if by unspoken compulsion. I glance at Dabria, who still stares at the scene onscreen.
"What in the world is that all about?"
She shakes her head. "Confirmation."
"Of what?"
"Of Kilgore knowing what he's talking about. He told me this would happen."
"What do you mean? He predicted some guy named Vigil would bust some Denizens and get their heads torn off? What does that even mean, anyway?"
She gives me an impatient look. "Nothing you have to worry about. How are your sessions with the Sentry going?"
Just thinking about it sends a razor blade of pain slicing into my brain. I raise a hand to my throbbing temples. "Painful."
"Nothing is accomplished without some level of discomfort. Follow me."
She stalks out into the warehouse, where it looks like the soldiers are preparing for a small war. Squad leaders shout orders, vehicles pull up and depart from the loading dock, dropping off supplies and more soldiers. Guns and ammo are unloaded and distributed; combat gear is parceled out. It's a hive of continuous movement and racket. Dabria passes through the crowds of soldiers with the same ease as Kilgore; the men automatically steering out of the way as they go about their business.
I don't get the same courtesy, forced to weave between bodies and avoid collisions. I mutter apologies, but it still doesn’t stop any of the men from trying to murder me with their glares. All the while, Dabria talks as if we're alone in a comfortable private room.
"I know you're a little lost right now, Specter. A single cog can't see the magnificence of the complete machine. But you should know that we're in a struggle. You, me, everyone that you know and see. Whether you realize it or not, you are involved. You play a part as much as I do. The only difference is whether or not you choose to take a side."
I try my best to listen as I bounce off shuffling bodies. "Take a side? I don't know what—"
"You see the world as it is orchestrated for you to see. Most of the time, it isn't even real. You've been tethered to digital existence since childhood, your mind so dependent on Immersion that your brain has adapted, chemically altering itself to compensate for the invasiveness of constant bombardment by virtual reality. And therein lies the dilemma. Corporations have become literal leeches, feeding directly from human bodies and minds for profit, purposely creating addictions that in turn lead to increased theft, robbery, and murder from addicts willing to do anything to return to Elysia."
I push and slide past muscular military grunts, trying to hear over the noise. Dabria casually strolls forward, unhampered.
"And the waves of crime are just a mild byproduct of Immersion addiction. The effects on human relationships are catastrophic. Entire generations have been raised to prefer digital existence to reality, on forming bonds with DLPs instead of real people. Romantic interests have fallen to a dismally low rate, with so many seeking sexual satisfaction in virtual form and subtracting the relationship aspect entirely. The very bonds of human interaction are quickly deteriorating, and Immersion is responsible for a large percent of the blame."
We finally get to an exit door. I follow her outside, shielding my eyes from bright, glaring sunlight while trying to keep up with Dabria's long strides. We cross cracked and broken asphalt and buildings with faded siding and blistered paint. The sky is an unfamiliar blue, lacking the manipulated color hues so prominent in Elysia. I'm struck by how pure the color is, and for a moment I stare upward like a dumbstruck fool.
As Dabria heads for a smaller depot, she continues her lecture. "Do you know what the fabric of humanity is, Specter?"
I shrug uncomfortably. "Love… I guess."
"That answer would be true if you had any idea of what love is."
"I do know what love is."
"I don't think you do, Specter. You might have once, but they took that away from you the same way they took your sense of self. You were just at your mother's grave, but where were you when she died? In the years and months when she needed you?"