Isis had been more or less just dropped off in front of the camps fire, a deep scowl on his face as he curled his long legs upright from the fire. Though the fires light danced in his grey eyes, he wasn't looking towards them. Rather, he was glaring off into the distance--perhaps even pouting? Nay, sulking over the current turn of events. His lidded eyes had heavily lifted to gaze at the pattering, dancing flame before him and filled his breath with the smell of tinder--comforting juxtaposed to a mild stench of sweat and blood was still on his body from the events earlier, a headache pounding through his head at how intensely the second in command had hit him before but at least with his helmet long gone he could breathe relatively easily. The helmet had always been somewhat suffocating and it made battle difficult. Movement caught his eye, the white haired soldier lifted his head to glare at the treacherous l'Cie in his top hat as he moved about camp. The tallest among them pulled his legs closer to his chest, wrinkling his nose in disgust of the vision, the idol, the face of the group that he had been sent to reclaim him from. Who would wish for an existence like him? "Pheh." Isis spat into the fire, a bad taste in his mouth.
As Julian's silhouette disappeared into his tent, another man stepped forward, standing behind Isis. "The lieutenant will see you now," Maurice said, pointing towards the tent Julian had entered. "I suggest you don't put up a fight. He's not a bad guy when you get to know him." Maurice offered a hand towards Isis to help him to his feet. "Best not keep him waiting."
"...Tch," Isis slapped Maurice's hand away and grunted as he pulled himself to his feet without assistance. He rubs his cheek with the binds of his wrists, his forehead creased in annoyance at the notion of needing to speak with the traitor of Cocoon. "Your security is shit," Isis spat at Maurice, moving on ahead of him towards Julian’s tent. "Were I not exhausted, I'd have leapt free of you bastards by now." Isis ducked his head inside of where Julian had passed into, squinting in the dim light of the tent. "Yeah, I'm here."
Julian sat upon a wicker chair, reading a few papers by the light of a small lantern. Rustic would be one way to describe the tent. A folding table was near the center, just next to the tent pole that held the canvas aloft. The table itself was bare, but several cabinets stood in the corner, no doubt containing a myriad of information. On the far side was a bedroll, neatly kept but unfurled, adjacent to a bag that contained the lieutenant's personal effects.
Julian himself hardly seemed to even acknowledge Isis's presence for a moment, at least until he had finished scanning the page. He then looked up at the taller man and lay down the paper. Isis could clearly see his own image emblazoned on the obverse. "Your file is impressive," Julian said, forgoing any greeting. "A loyal soldier. The Sanctum would be proud. I hope you don't mind if I have a few questions for you." The comment held little emotion in it, as if the statement were more speaking of fact than a suggestion.
Isis snorted, glancing down at the paperwork as he stood near the entrance of the tent. "How'd you get that file so fast?" His white eyebrow slowly lifted, inquisitive. His grey eyes were once again on Julian's brown, a sort of trepidation there that had remained since they first made eye contact. "You turned tail and fled so quickly there's no way you could have gotten those documents in time. You can't tell me you took them ahead of time--just in case something like this would come up?" He scoffs, tilting his nose upward.
"I have my sources," Julian replied. "The greatest thing about this age is that information is easily gleaned if you know where to look and who to ask." Julian leaned back in his seat, the wicker creaking slightly. "I am sure you are curious, even if you won't allow yourself to recognize it. I hold no secrets from my allies, except for names of the innocent. Perhaps if you proved yourself worthy to be called an ally, I would answer some of your questions. But first, you answer mine." Julian stood from his chair and approached, walking towards Isis with slow but purposeful strides. He reached behind the taller man and let loose the ties that held open the tent flap before securing it shut. "Privacy is hard to find on the battlefield," Julian muttered as he turned to face the bound prisoner again. He leaned against the table, staring back into Isis's eyes for a moment. "Why were you searching for me?" Julian asked after a moment of silence.
Isis, surprised, pulled his hands forward. Gently, he rubbed at his wrists and looked at the darker skinned man in his top hat. Slowly, the soldiers eyebrows creased in confusion. "I told you already," He spat, tilting his head up. "I had my orders, didn't I? I had to find you and bring you back. We had no idea what you were doing on the battlefield."
"PSICOM knows more than they let on," Julian replied, his gaze never leaving Isis's. "That mission was an ambush set up to take us down. You almost succeeded too. I lost two soldiers in that warehouse." Julian pushed off from the table, stepping forward until he was barely inches from Isis. "Or are you just a peon? Always getting ordered around, never being told why? Do you ever stop to wonder why PSICOM purges whole villages that were in contact with Pulse: woman, child, pets, everyone? The answer might surprise you." Julian's voice was low as he peered deep into Isis's gaze, trying to read the other man's expressions below the exterior façade of anger.
Isis said nothing. He glared right back at Julian. His teeth grit together as Julian stared him down, frustrated at his internal lack of knowledge as to what Julian was talking about. Whole villages for contact with Pulse? He'd worked reconnaissance; retrieval missions. Spying. He'd never... He'd never do anything like that. If he was ordered, maybe but... Isis' eyes steeled themselves. He preferred not to give Julian the satisfaction of the soldier's status. He had to lean down to be face to face with Julian quite a ways being so much taller than he. "Kiss my ass, you low-tier tonberry fuck."
Julian shrugged nonchalantly at Isis's response. "Your training serves you well, but you forget: my entire mission relies on intelligence. I have forgotten more about PSICOM and the Sanctum than you will ever know. Perhaps..." Julian broke the staring contest with Isis and walked over to one of his cabinets. After shuffling through a handful of files, be pulled out a bulky folder and set it down on the table with a thud. The folder was opened revealing pages labeled "Confidential" in bold red letters, as well as a datapad. Julian pressed a button and the screen lit up showing a video of dozens of civilians being lined up for a firing squad. "Every day we allow these atrocities to continue is another day that we hold civilian blood on our hands. Pulse isn't the enemy. I'm not the enemy. These orders came directly from the Sanctum. Go ahead. Read the file. Read about how the unnamed seven-year-old girl was shot by PSICOM or how 24-year-old Alice Walgrove was beheaded by their Commander without a trial, cheered on by the entire squad. I can wait."
" . . . "
Though his flesh didn't pale, Isis could feel the color slowly drain from his face. He stared down at the pages, at the datapad. His stomach churned and he felt so suddenly, violently ill. If what he said was true, then PSICOM was no better than whoever it was that killed his parents. A corporation he had helped for years because they took pity on him in his time of need; and at the root of them, evil? He couldn't stomach it.
Before he knew it, Isis had picked up the paperwork in his dextrous fingers, his grey eyes staring down at the papers. For the first time since meeting him, Julians would see Isis' eyes crease in visible stress.
He couldn't read these. He couldn't even believe they existed.
It was an automatic response for him to tear the file to pieces, his eyes filling with a red fire that glinted off his pupils, his teeth gnashing together as the confetti of documented filth scattered to the floor. The datapad snapped in his hands, a dark shadow having fallen over his eyes as the cogs and wires fell through his fingers.
Everything he knew.
Everything he'd believed.
It was like what he held in his thin fingers and shaking palm. And now, sliding free and hitting the ground where it poffed up dust, there was no better way for it to be seen. Isis stared down at the broken tech and the ripped papers.
". . . I'm leaving."
His back slowly turned to the man in the top hat, the taste of bile on his tongue. It couldn't be true. His hand caught the tent seam, white hair covering his eyes.
"I couldn't believe it either," Julian replied, stepping forward and placing a hand on Isis's shoulder. "So I kept digging. And digging. That cabinet? Full of villages and townsfolk that suffered the same fate. They are who I fight for." His grip seemed to tighten as Julian's voice wavered slightly, even as he sounded like he was reciting something he had read a thousand times. " 'Alice Walgrove, 24, having recently graduated summa cum laude from law school in Palumpolum, traveled to the small town of Garlea the night before the raid by Pulse soldiers. She is survived by her fiancé, Steven Curtis, and her parents, Norma and Geoffrey. She will forever be loved.' That... that was her obituary. I even saw her tombstone." Julian gave a quiet sniff before releasing Isis's shoulder, his hand sliding down to rest between the man's shoulder blades. "You have two choices before you. You may join us and set right what we can, or we will have to further confine you until we move on. I hope you would join us."
[color=chocolate]”You’re a sap, has anyone ever told you that?”[/color Isis turned his head, sneering at the smaller man behind him. ”PSICOM has no doubt noticed I am missing and my comrades dead and are tracking us now. Give me one good reason why I should care to join you and not just wait for the cavalry to arrive to get as far away from you lot as humanly possible right now.”
“You don't honestly expect that PSICOM will search for a single missing soldier on a battlefield, do you?” Julian replied, calling Isis’s bluff. He sighed and stepped back from the man, shaking his head. “I get it. You think I'm a traitor. A coward that turned his back on Cocoon. And who knows, maybe I am. But I also know that out of all the people I met in either PSICOM or the GC, I was one of the only ones who cared enough to keep digging. I can't convince someone to join if they've made up their minds about me.” Julian looked at the broken pieces of the datapad and grimaced. “No matter how much you want me to hate you, believe me when I say I don't. That's just not who I am. If you care to learn the truth, you should join us. If you prefer to be one of the blind masses being led off a cliff to their own destruction, then by all means, walk on out of this tent.”
There was a brief pause as Isis glanced the man behind him up and down. Then his head turned away completely.
”I’d heard stories of you. What a shame they all turned out to be farse.” Isis’ hand pulled at the tent flap as he strode outside weakly, still more gaunt than not, weakened with his encounter with them earlier. He took note of the female android walking around. The sheer amount of people here was ridiculous. They were l’Cie, right? He had difficulty believing that they’d amassed such a population of a small village with this camp. After what he’d learned in the tent, Isis’ stomach felt bruised and nauseous. No. It wasn’t true. Julius had to be a liar, that’s all that made sense.
Once he got out of here and back to HQ, he’d make sure to track down Julius again himself and end the bastard right then and there.
High Moon
Apollosarcher
7 Szpadel
