Origin Stories: The Globalist


 * Not to be confused with The Globalist (story)

Origin Stories: The Globalist is a story about the rise of Munijoch's current President, The Globalist. Told from a revolving third and first person point of view, the story is meant to shed light on the accomplishments of the Globalist, as well as the little history that is known about him.

Prologue: Killed By Machines
The REAPERS flew through the air with silence, a tranquil hum and soft roar from their engines as they rocketed from the Vanguard Headquarters toward Mt. Graxxar. Their matte finish and sharp edges complimented their aggressive styling, almost cutting the air. There were fifteen total, flying in sync in a V-formation. As soon as they approached Mt. Graxxar, they broke off and cloaked themselves to avoid being immediately shot down. A quick reconnaissance revealed that the mountain was crawling with WhiteBlood agents, as well as weaponry, stolen PULSE machinery, and other assorted things. He had two options: bomb them relentlessly and risk being disabled or send them down and destroy everything in a 10 mile radius.

He chose the latter.

???: Initiate Code: Delta Charlie Alpha Dash One One Seven.

The program asked for confirmation, to which he confirmed.

At once, the REAPERS' lights shone a dark red and nosedived toward the mountain at breakneck speed, removing all stops from the engine and crashing down to the mountain. The payload and engines exploded in a terrific blue light, the warmth of warfare coalescing in that one moment to a sense of delight and excitement. The desperate shrieks of fear overcome by the rumble of the explosion shaking the ground, a cloud of debris emerging from the mountain. While the mountain itself withstood the blast, everything inside, excluding The Infinite Engine, was vaporized. The shock wave was felt as far north as the Ninja Archipelago as the might of PULSE and Munijoch was shown against it's most ingrained enemy.

???: My work here is done.

As he walked out of the room, the defeated bodies of armed WhiteBlood insurgents he assassinated strewn around him, he exited the lone building and into a waiting car for him. Glancing around, he closed the door and put on a hoodie.

???: Does Isaac know of the blast?

Driver: Yes, and he would like to inform you that he's pleased with the result.

???: Heh, anymore pleased than me and he'd be labeled crazy.

Driver: Of course, sir. You know, you're oddly spy-like for a former soldier. How did you ever get that way?

???: That, my friend, is for another time.

But secretly, he thought to himself. How did he get this way? Was there a reason why he became reclusive and almost to the point of total concealment?

--

He stood upon the stage, accepting the title of President of Munijoch. He purposefully concealed himself in front of the crowd, making sure that no one could see him from any angle. It wasn't a fear of seeing him, rather, it's fear of seeing who he isn't. People spoke of him in high regard, almost as if he is the only one that can bring this country up to the standards of today. He walked up to the podium, prepared to give a customary commencement speech to the masses.

The Globalist: The world will know our name. They will know that we are not afraid of their petty remarks or insults. They will know us for either our brutality or our compassion. We won't accept our role as a minuscule nation for much longer. We will unite the world under our banner, be it through peace or through annihilation. I am not afraid to stand up for us as a whole, and you shouldn't be either. We fought for our democracy, and the fight for our representation on the world stage has just begun. Let no one tell you what to do, and lets have them listen to us!

Audience: Hooray for The Globalist! Hail to the Chief!

The Globalist: Thank you for your compassion. Citizens like you bring a smile to my face. As President, my first order of business is to ensure that you all are happy, and that you have a safe rest of the day. Long Live Munijoch!

He got off the stage, making sure his smile was still apparent and that he appeared happy to others. He reached his convoy and stepped inside his car. He picked up a call from one of his advisers and began to speak with him.

The Globalist: These citizens are all sheep, and Joseph was the only one that could properly lead them. I have shoes to fill, now, don't I? Hopefully, a wolf can also lead sheep.

Chapter One: Revere Silence
I was left alone often when I was little in the mainland. My parents had other things to do. I recall my father telling me often that I wasn't good enough to qualify for his attention, while my brother and sister got everything they ever asked for. Oftentimes, I went without in an effort to appease my parents in hope that they would actually care and provide me. Oftentimes, that didn't work.

So, in turn, I sat in my room, quietly reading my many books. When I read, I felt like the words transported me to another world; a dimension of joy, love, and care, as if I was the one that was receiving them. What I hated most about books, however, is how abrupt they are in their endings. It left you with a craving for more, and I grew to abhor the end of all things, it left you feeling empty, after all. That was, however, until I found out about the wonders of warfare: theoretically, you control when it can end. It was in that moment that I fell in love with war and all things pertaining to it.

When I was 10, we moved to Munijoch after my father obtained a government position there as the Head Consular of the Military, fancy talk for Major. We often discussed of how much of a better life we'll be having once we move there, and that nothing could possibly keep us from having a better life. That is, until only a month later, he was tried for bribery, treason, and in turn, executed by the same military he led. I always found it ironic that he would do something like that when he always told us to stray away from that sort of behavior. Dead men can't tell any tales now, can they? So, I guess I'll never know his intentions.

From there on out, I swapped homes frequently, primarily due to the state wanting to train me to be a sleeper agent of sorts, although I cared little for espionage. I remember very vividly the code used to initiate and fulfill my assignment: Mundane, Vice, Night, Yellow, Job, Obverse, Kaleidoscope; the others had different codes. Often times, I did not rest due to the immense amount of training involved; they were seriously committed to training these young soldiers, weren't they? I realized then and there that hate primarily drives the people to not defect to a growing rebellious bunch; likely to our trainers. We were part of a covert operation, in some sense, by 9, an agency that we shouldn't have any idea about, yet we all knew was the ultimate thought going on in our heads.

This... group of agents later were either inducted into normal society (treated with only the best in luxury of course!) or were disposed of. Rumors were that they were sent to some prison beyond our realm of understanding. I proved, however, to be quite an effective agent. Frequently, my missions involved espionage, much to my dismay, or scouting missions in the cover of night. We all got call signs in accordance to our agent letter and number. Since I was known as Agent 7-G, my call sign was to be Global. I thought it didn't suit me at all; I kept to myself a lot, preferred to be alone, and certainly hated crowds.

Our favorite time of a mission were when we were in a dead zone in terms of communication; we had time for ourselves. Most of us would simply relax, think actual thoughts, take in scenery, or quickly finish a mission to enjoy time alone, opting to give or take time since we often finished much earlier than expected of us. I myself liked to take in the sheer silence of it all. I revered silence; it gave me time to be myself. Without it, I likely would not be here.

I remember very fondly some of my conversations with my fellow agents the day of the dissolution of our agency...

Globalist: Another successful mission, I am guessing, I?

I: Quite! Although it was another scouting mission, sadly. Nothing too interesting.

Globalist: Mine wasn't that bad; reconnaissance in regards to those rebels on the east coast. Seems unlikely to swell for now, though.

I: Sounds better than mine, going to the city and all. You know, G, I sometimes wonder if there is... well... more to us than just agents.

Globalist: I wonder that everyday as well, I, but to wonder is to show susceptibility to reconditioning. We already lost E and K to it.

I: True. But do you ever wonder if it's a gift to be reconditioned? Nothing like getting retconned like with T, X, Y and Z of course, but we never actually know the fate of those reconditioned, do we?

Globalist: I suppose you're right. But, is the world really meant for us? We are seen as elite experiments, more than anything.

I: Good point. I don't know. Promise me something, G?

Globalist: Sure, what is it I?

I: If we ever get released... don't forget about me.

The Globalist blushed at this statement. He never thought she thought of him in that way.

Globalist: Oh... erm, of course! I certainly wont.

P.A: THIS IS AN ANNOUNCEMENT IN REGARDS TO ALL CURRENTLY ENLISTED AGENTS. THE DIVISION OF AGENTS YOU ARE CURRENT A PART OF IS BEING TERMINATED, EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY. IN YOUR LOCKERS, YOU SHALL FIND A COLLECTION OF VARIOUS ITEMS TO HELP YOU ADAPT TO CIVILIAN LIFE, INCLUDING 300,000 GRAMS, AN ID, CLOTHING THAT IS GOOD FOR ONE WEEK, KEYS, AND A FREE HOUSING PASS REDEEMABLE AT A LOCAL GOVERNMENT OFFICE, NO QUESTIONS ASKED. HOUSING IS NOT DESIGNATED AND YOU CAN GO WHERE EVER YOU WISH. WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR PARTICIPATION IN THIS EXPERIMENT. SI OUT.

I's eyes shot up with excitement as she looked over at The Globalist, running over to hug him tightly, slightly tearful. He returned the favor, hugging her back and realizing that, in that moment, he has never felt better.

With a slight grin, the two held each other, holding their ID's and money, and decided to consolidate their money and housing passes to buy a large house in the City of Progress. She was to be called Marie Lidwell, and he was to be called Vincent Lidwell-- a perfect match. He, however, did not like the name "Vincent," and took up the code for his friend, V, as a nickname of sorts.

-

The house was by no means big like the ones in the mainland; it was a simple three story townhouse located in a relatively newer area of the City. The block was built with luxury in mind, all while being incredibly efficient in energy; it featured solar panel tile roofs, building materials sourced from sustainable and mostly recycled sources, energy efficient lighting, and the latest in cup holder technology. To V and Marie, however, the primary feature included that it was not yet hooked up to the systems of remarkably well hidden microphones installed by the WhiteBlood government in an effort to spy on potential dissident within, as recent revolts in Mt. Vespa City resulted in an ever-tightening vice grip on the little personal freedoms. While the two of them knew very well that it would be installed eventually, they took the liberty to do reconnaissance on the government installation to take note of where in the house the microphones lie, and later plant fake microphones to fool any surprise inspector.

V and Marie figured that this arrangement can last for a long time, seeing as the City of Progress is protected by three layers of massive blockades, and to the east of that lies the Graxxar ramparts. With a seemingly limitless pool of money at their disposal, they presumed that if they invested in the market on the mainland, they could make enough money to retire in peace. While this was technically illegal due to the rules of removal of currency outside the country through transactions for services, citizens still did it through legal means of buying properties, which are classified as utilities. With that property, they can establish a bank account and can legally trade in that country, then convert that currency to Grams. It was a legal albeit shady way of making money, and allowed the Munijoch economy to prosper, ironically, through the use of real estate transactions.

Chapter 2: Night Visions
They stay awake.

What are they?

Who are they?

They plea for it to end.

In the silence, they heard their past, their present, and their future.

All they want is the silence.

V is noticeably distressed by his inability to sleep. It has now been at least 4 days since he was able to sleep decently. Marie felt fatigued as well. Who knew that happiness could cause this much stress?

In the dark, they saw a vision; a vision showing their end, prophesied by the simple vision of flames, fading into the mist of tears falling upon smoldering ashes. The white lights, tendrils of hope, withdrawing themselves back from where they came, leaving the scene lit only by the flame, smoldering and dying. No one will remember them. No one knows them.

In the dark, they stood shivering, cold like the harshest winter chill to blow the vision into the wind. Shivers turned to fear. Fear unto anger. Anger unto Passion. Passion unto strength.

They shall not go into the night.

They hypothesized that the same agency that brought them into the world is plotting their own demise. They only had one solution: eliminate the agency, or at the very least, the other agents they worked with. This certainly must be the final test, to finally and truly be free.

In the dark, they spoke silently, plotting their next move, their next strike to take back the freedom that the agency toyed with. They were not experiments. They deserve to live as though the agency never gave them the life they know of.

Chapter 9: Fight for the End
The chasm must have been at least 10 meters across, and who knows how deep. They both stood at the edge, peering down into the darkness. Was it darkness? A faint hum was ringing in their ears, likely due to the air cycling up from the canyon. Besides this, the silence was deafening. Neither said a word as they slowly backed up and out. They realized that their torment hasn't ended, but rather, the torment only intensified when looking into each others' eyes. In their pupils, they saw the answer, whether they wanted to admit it or not. They stared each other down, contemplating their next action. They knew their thoughts were one and the same.

What cruel, sadistic being allowed for this?

He lunged for her, fist clenched. Likewise, she countered with a full body block, pushing him away.

"I always knew you were the one behind this," V said, cold and distant. She knew on the inside, he was hurting. He hesitated on his punch, after all.

"I've done no wrong, but clearly you see the benefit in turning the blame towards me, coward!" she yelled back.

As the two ran towards each other yet again, the chasm glowed with a green, ominous aura. If one listened closely, a faint snicker could be heard, almost dislocated but not without an exact dissociation from reality. It existed, as all things do, but on a higher order. Perhaps a puppet-master, pulling the strings like they are marionettes?

Eventually, V landed a blow that knocked both of them back. Both got up, disoriented and phasing through reality and a semblance of fantasy. V's Medipack wouldn't activate; he's on his own, it seems.

"Don't you see what they're doing? This fight? The chasm? SI:9 doesn't care who dies! They care about inflicting their will! We did their dirty work!" V yelled at Marie. Perhaps he can get through to her rational side.

"If they really wanted us to suffer, they would have killed one of us already!" she yelled back, readying herself.

"Don't you see, that's their idea!"

She didn't listen, and subsequently landed a spinning roundhouse kick on his sternum, knocking him back, and his air out of him.

As he struggled to get up, he had to find away to make it clear to her that this was all an elaborate plot. He suddenly remembered his PULSE belt generator's faulty circuits and the issues with its connectivity to his devices. He grabbed it, unwrapped a few wires and clenched it between his fist, with the intention to shock her mind. If his hypothesis was right, then the shock should work to break her from the disillusionment.

He lunged towards her once again, this time dodging her blow and grazing her head with the wires, sending a light shock across her brain. Almost as soon as he did this, she landed with a thump on the ground, struggling to get a grasp on reality.

"Welcome to the real world! Do you see now what's going on?" V yelled, almost mocking her skewed sense of the situation.

Marie got up, slowly, now with a look of fear in her eyes. She knew now what they wanted, and what she had to do.

"V. You have to end this. Throw me in the chasm. It's the only way this can end the way we want this to," she yelled back, a slight shiver in her voice.

Epilogue: The Puppetmaster
As the ashes settled and V walked off, resolute in his struggle to survive, however broken hearted he may be, a figure emerged, facial respirator and all, from the smoke. He stood around six feet tall, slender yet built, and had three black rings, with silver engravings on them, reading out various words. He knew all too well, however, that they were fake; they contained small machines designed to tug at the very light that makes him and everything around him up. But, that didn't stop him from feeling like he accomplished so much with so little. The agency let him go to serve a grander purpose; The Infinite Engine gave the agency a vision: ashes on the ground, the drums of war beating within the engines made of the very cores of stars. At the center was him.

Agent: Sir, our plan went well.

???: Explain.

Agent: Well, sir, the paint gave off the chemical that you requested, enabling their neurons to be easily manipulated by passing SI:9 jets carrying Verium neural manipulation rods, which allowed us to implant the seeds of doubt and fear into Subject G and I's minds. From there, it's, well, given.

???: Very good, I taught you well in the practice of giving field reports. How goes the rest of the plan?

Agent: Well, sir, we intend to initiate Phase 2: Meltdown by the end of this year. Estimated time to completion remains unknown, but some estimates place it at around 13 years.

???: Long enough, yet not short enough so that they don't get suspicious. Very pleasing. As for PULSE?

Agent: We relocated Zero Sector operations to an undisclosed location, sir, as you requested. The building is ready for hostiles to take over, yet we positioned several decoy Subjects to serve as guards, as you recommended.

???: Fantastic, it seems you can follow directions, after all, unlike the other 4 of you.

Agent: Of course! We aren't called a-squad for nothing!

???: Very well, then. Prepare the helicopter for take off. They are expecting us back at headquarters.

Agent: Right away, sir.

As the helicopter wound up, the figure could not help but look out at V, tears falling and becoming mist upon the ground. Tears have been shed for a good cause, but ultimately, the greater calling served precedent, according to the agency. He wondered why him, of all people, was chosen for this undertaking. Perhaps it was his knack for creating illusions that led him to this position? Or, maybe his will. After all, there had to be a reason why the agency spared him from being eliminated by him, and instead made him the puppetmaster for his spree.

As they returned to the agency, he entered the true corridor and main inquiry room. The agency took special care to masquerade all technological advancements. They knew that in order to fool G and I into thinking that all was going through their head naturally, they had to induce a chemical inhibition into their brains, using Verium, for example, so that they could be manipulated. The work was so pioneering that it ended up inspiring twelve other operatives to venture to Zero Sector to start designing an implantable enhancement device.

The doors whined open and the two entered a room simply called "I-O-04." On a quick glance, the room appeared to be an office, yet a clear room with various projectors along the wall showed that it was much more than a simple office.

???: Let me show you something, agent.

The figure pressed a button on a remote and instantly began feedback of a holographic readout of the entire country of Munijoch. On it was the capital, as well as all major cities. SI:9 headquarters were colored in purple, and Zero Sector, represented by a black dot, scurried around on screen. The figure presumably didn't trust the agent with such important knowledge.

???: This map shows all our headquarters. We aligned them in accordance to-

The agent, while initially fascinated, quickly found his eyes glazing over out of sheer boredom. He had brief, yet vivid glimpses of his training, and recognizing what to say and what not to say to his superior.

???: Agent? a5!

The agent snapped back, only this time he got the two mixed up.

Agent: What? Oh, oh, sorry Subject Z! I didn't mean to feel so tired, must have been the mission! Won't happen again!

???: I'm sorry, may you repeat that?

The room got dark. The projector went away. On the floor, a sole feather.

a5: ...Oh, I said that I felt tired, Subject Z!

With a fell swoop, the Subject came down upon the agent, rendering him unconscious. A cloak of dark, iridescent feathers, along with a glowing set of eyes looked down upon him. His rings were, oddly enough, open.

Subject Z: There shall be no more of that, a5. I16, I21, come here this instant.

The two operatives ran in, the room now normal and his rings fully closed.

I16: Yes, sir?

I21: Do you have a request for us, I04?

I04: Yes. I request that you send a5 here to be reconditioned. He appeared to have a malfunction. Increase the Verium coverage of the synapses by a factor of 4.

I21: Sir, new information has yielded that Zero Sector finished initial testing of an implant that could render Verium synapse coverage almost useless.

I04: Perfect. Delay the implementation of the a-squadron by 13 years. My a6 shall have to wait until then. Until that moment, I shall work alone. On another note, make sure the agent can use notes.

I16: In what manner, sir?

I04: Zero Sector recently unveiled subsonic incapacitation. I intend to fully use it to my advantage, yet I would like an operative assistant that can perform that role well enough so that I cannot be bothered with when to initiate it.

I21: Will that be all, sir?

I04: Only this, and nothing more.

As the two agents left, a thought crossed his mind: he and G shall meet once more. Only this time, I04 intends to eliminate G from the mix.