Catalyst Chapter 11: Convergence

Read chapter 11 of Catalyst by dumbhd on NovelPedia.

People across America look to their televisions, phones, computers, broadcasts of what seemed more like a fiction, playing out right in front of them. " The hell..? Is this an ad? " A woman says, in a bar. But there isn't conversations going, just a silence as people all turn and stare at the television hanging in front of them. The population asks questions, expects answers, but gets shut down by the iron fist. A truth was spreading. The lies and rumors about Blight were no longer fairytale. They were unfolding in front of their eyes. Rogues were no longer the highlight. Something was off. [-/-] Around the table, multiple R.C.T agents gathered. At the end of the row, the leader of operational and partially a commander of the specialized branch, Harold ' The Dictator ' Tornguard. His metal fist rested on the table, his worn eyes covered in battle-scars staring through the agents. " They can see Blightborns. " He says. Flame-fist taps the table, a vein bulging at his forehead, " It's his fault, isn't it.. IT HAS TO BE! " " Terra? " Limbus scoffs, leaning on the table. " He can't create curtains, let alone visible Blight. Besides, the R.C.T eviscerate him easily in direct confrontation, so he wouldn't pick a fight with the 'Iron Fist'. " Courtney's seat was empty. " Where is Rose? " Tornguad stares at the seat, " She was pinged, right? " " Well.. She ran off. " One of the less significant operational agents mentions, standing in the corner of the room. " To? " Tornguard questions, turning his gaze to the agent. The agent straightens their posture, " We found an unconscious agent in the bathroom, and noticed their phone was missing! They were deployed to the Umbral mission, so the- " " Got it. " He says. He rubs his chin. One of the men from the office branch runs in with a piece of paper. They pant, scanning their keycard to open the door, " Sir! We have gotten information from agents of 4 casualties, a photograph taken on Courtney, an unidentified sporeborn that is related to Terra's schemes, and.. " They hand over the picture to Harold. The unmistaking back, the scythe, posture, height, hair. " Noble. " He says, staring at the picture. " Well consider me surprised. " He chuckles, his gruff voice shaking the table as he bellows. " That.. TRAITOR! What was he doing there? Was he going to sabotage him? I say we send out a full-scale attack and CRUSH him into the ground. And Courtney.. She abandoned her post! She must've ran when she saw Terra's power like the coward she-" Flame-fist's pupils began glowing orange. " Sit down, you hot-headed idiot. " Torngaurd slams his metal fist onto the table. The impact cracks the wood open. The room goes silent. " This isn't Terra. Terra is a sledgehammer. This... " Tornguard gestures to the massive monitor wall behind him. The screens display the chaos outside the D.C. station. Civilians screaming, pointing at the sky. A news helicopter feed shows the purple dome pulsating. " This is a scalpel. " Tornguard narrows his eyes. " Some genius is behind this. The Masquerade is broken. The public sees the monsters.. " A frantic analyst bursts through the double doors, clutching a stack of papers. He is sweating profusely, his tie undone. " Sir! Director! We have... we have a confirmed reading on the Curtain's composition! " " Well? Spit it out! " Limbus snaps. The analyst swallows hard. " It's... it matches the signature of Subject K-1. " The room’s temperature seems to drop ten degrees. Flame-Fist stops sparking. Limbus goes pale. " Kensho? " Tornguard whispers. " The Defector? " " He was supposed to be dead. Or in exile. " Limbus mutters, looking across the table. " He's planning something, that's for god-damn sure. " Tornguard says, " But right now, we can't rush in. That would just be acknowledging it. " " We call it a stunt? " Flame-Fist asks, his eyes still flickering with dying embers. Tornguard doesn't answer. He turns his gaze toward the far end of the room. E sits there, perched on