Prologue Choice 1

What have we done?

We had thought that our pride had fallen long ago. That our sins were paid for as we stewed in our guilt and diaspora, that staring into the eyes of the monster we had created was enough. The monster that had driven us from our home and laid us low by our own avarice stained hands.

We thought that reconciliation, that admission, that this blinding truth brought to bear against everything our people used to be was enough for fate to be done with us. The searing reality that the terror of our species, the monster of our nightmares, the Threat we tried desperately and pridefully to extinguish, had been nothing more than an unfortunate victim of our accursed system… It had destroyed that pride to its very pillars. That he had been nothing more than a youth with too much power only added to the crushing of our hubris.

Yet, despite such beginnings, fate was far from done with us. Or with Threat.

We did all we could to stop it, the corruption of our Ark, but our control had been wrested from us. Automated systems given too much autonomy, and too much power for them to bear. Our sins, Threat's power, both were spread by nothing more than a scanning pulse meant to find suitable hosts. Hosts that we hoped would accept us, if given time and gifts. Hoped that we could uplift with shared knowledge. That, in turn, we could use them to regain our physical bodies with that given time and trust.

But instead they were doomed by our folly.

Given power beyond what their minds could control, subsumed by horrors that compounded outside of our control. Their bodies taken over by the ravenous abominations that lived in our systems. Forms twisted into something close to ours, but with minds locked away behind madness. While we… while we were shunted into another unfortunate child.

We were scared. The power, malformed and spreading, had taken root in our unwitting host. He did not deserve to suffer for what we had done. But all we could do was lock as much of it away as we could. Dam up its reach and formulate a plan of action. But our Threat saw better of this fear. An all too common occurrence. He reached out, comforted him, said more than our fear could let us say. And in turn revealed what we were afraid of. Our power had rooted far too deep within him to expunge. And our host was given more than he could handle.

This child's plight broke every lock, nearly loosed the things we were desperate to contain. But… but he stopped. Just short of losing himself to grief and sadness and wrath beyond measure. Whether by happenstance or genuine resolve, he had prevented his own degradation to what befell all others, and surpassed it. Found better in the worst imaginable. Even as tears streamed down his face.

So I saw fit to step in, to better prepare him for what was to come, teach and guide him so that he may yet spare himself should such plight overpower him again. But, with some shame, we decided to ease his outlook against his will. We inserted ourselves into his subconscious, made him amenable to us, made us his… 'friends' so that our presence would seem acceptable. Normal. We regret ever having to stoop so low but… we never made choices for him. Even if it would have spared him further hardship.

We helped him survive, guided him through the powers that he had inherited from us, and protected him as best we could from what we still feared we had created. But our hubris caught fate's ire yet again, and he paid the price. To see what had been done to his people… to his family. It started a chain of events we could never have known, never have stopped. But despite the resentment he felt toward us in that burning moment… 'he' forgave us. But there is little we can say now other than what was still locked away very much did not. Still, he chose to walk the path he did. He chose to work to atone for sins that were never his in the first place. That he never should have taken on in the first place.

There was little we could do to dissuade him, if we had ever even tried. More pressing matters abounded and effort was better served keeping him focused and alive. And spared of the realities of our sins made manifest. The road was long, taxing upon all factors. So many lives snuffed out because of us, and the only route out of this… hell… was through the worst of its results.

Hunger, fatigue, dread and hopelessness. We shared his plight in every step. But the end grew closer and closer regardless. Towering metal and might, a bulwark against the spread of our sins. Against us in all but knowing. Yet in the shadow of this monolith, the hell at our heels grasp at him one last time. And all it won at the hands of this world's defenders were the eyes of his family burned into his mind. He was saved from our creation, given a life of peace, given a lot more than we could ever bargain for in his favor. But despite the prospects of peaceful existence, he had set his path in stone. Or should I say metal.

Time passed, wounds healed as best they could be. We suppressed the worst of the toll on his mind. Just so that he could rest without fear of his own nightmares. In doing so we also taught him much of our world and our folly. Our peoples, our culture, our technology. In turn we learned of his world. Where those with power did not rule over those without. Where nobility and birthright were not solid pillar stones, simply merits attributed along the way. We all hoped that this world would accept us with time and meritorious services. So we worked to prepare for that eventuality, and did our best to temper our confidence.

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We, both he and us, furthered our shared goals with career advancement, helped advance a forge beyond its station to compete with its lofty peers. And in turn helped create a suit to endear himself to those he hoped would accept him, to hide his powers from scrutiny and suspicion until the time was right. Neither of us expected ideological hostility, but the scars of our arrival ran far deeper than we knew.

The power we had locked away was unearthed by bias stocked fury, some attempt to dissuade and filter out the weak. It nearly swallowed him whole when it awoke to fight this hostile response. But again… again he stopped himself, stopped his own downward spiral. And then used that power for himself. Piecemeal chunks that wisped off like steam gave him more strength than could have been taught with a decade of training. And it remained controlled, contained as far as we knew. Our hopes were rising. Unfortunately.

With time and training, and proper effort, his prowess grew and his own hope rose. Even as his own wounds were brought to bear upon him. Forcibly opened and salted by that unmitigated bias. We should have stopped him then when the full tally was known. Should found a more permanent solution, thrown all that power away and been done with it. Because unbeknownst to all it had fed off his pain, his plight, had found a sentience all its own in what had leaked into its cage. And gave him more than he could control.

But… but we were blinded. It wasn't strong enough to take him away, wasn't there enough to control him. So we believed in him too much, trusted that fate was no longer our enemy, trusted in him as he had in us. Trusted that he was the only one who could dissolve this burgeoning monstrosity left over from our inglorious meeting. We trusted in his resolve, even as he did not trust in himself. So we helped him come to terms, to see us as we truly are, to see his power as it truly was, and to rise to its challenge despite his doubts. And he exceeded even himself.

What we thought was a new threat was absorbed. His power exploding, his abilities beyond what many of us could do with a hundred life times. A… light at an end of a tunnel opening, as the very bearer of our sins was shattered and bore better purpose. But both of our hopes were tainted. And so dashed as they were always to be.

Ideology against supposed weakness, bias against him for being a challenge, prideful stubbornness or just outright malice. History repeating itself with new actors but the same foreshadowed outcome. Adding his final goodbye to his own mother only seemed to exacerbate what occurred. Yet it dangled some hope for us still, as the last vestige of our crimes was given a closure of her own choosing. His true test though brought him low, lower than we thought he could go. Should have showed us true the very nature of what had been awakened. And yet… time after time… even in the crushing face of defeat, he still relinquished that power. Rose back to the surface, fought to stop from losing it all. But we could not spare him from the pain that loss poured upon him. Nor keep at bay the true bearer of all this passed down power.

We had thought it was his own wrath taking over, his own actions driving him to take revenge, but that reality revealed itself. He was not lost to us, he was puppeteered away from us. All of our preparation, our attempts to carry him higher than our faults. It had only furthered the cycle with a new specter looming over it all. Only gave fate another opportunity to punish us for ever thinking we could be forgiven. But cruel fate decreed instead that he would be punished in our stead. That having his entire being subsumed was not enough!

So we refuse to let him suffer the consequence he is not deserving of. We refused to let him die because our misfortunate pride struck again. He is not the one who should suffer for what has occurred. This thing must! Even if we can do little to condemn it but leave it locked away as it deserves, we could still save him.

And so… all we really can do is hope.

That he can forgive us again.

For what we had to do.

Prologue Choice 2

"Hair?"

"Check."

"Mic?"

"Double checked."

"How's the shot? Am I too-"

"I've got it, just wait for the count."

"Okay! Okay…"

"They're cutting away. 3…2…"

"Thank you Sean, and yes we are all still reeling from last night's horrific events. But the aftermath of this morning will hopefully put an end to the fears people have for their safety. As you can see behind me the villain is… down. Should… should we blur that? He's impaled on a sword. …sorry. It… It's a clear bookend to the devastation and heartache we have all felt since last night. To think that one disgruntled trainee could cause so much destruction and defeat 4 of the League's greatest heroes with such… brutality.

"But Kadia will live on. Construction is already underway and repairs to Eagle Parkway and the Macroscopic Memorial Plaza will be done before noon. We can only hope that… wait. Wait, I'm… Yes, I am being informed now that the villain at the center of all this has just now been given a posthumous name by the SNSB. Given witness testimony of the brutal and callous nature of his attacks and the motif of his armored suit, they have decided to call him-"

"SON OF A BITCH!!!!"

*BOKCRRRrrreee*

"There… seem to be some commotion at the-"

"Get every officer on deck NOW!!! Get Commander Jackson back here NOW!!! YOU!!!"

"It appears that Buster is-"

"Are you live!?!"

"Yes but-"

"Good! Listen, this shit isn't over yet people!! The damn suit is empty!!! The bastard got away!!! The fucker who did this IS STILL ALIVE!!!"

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