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Roland was somewhere at the heart of Babylonia’s city, comfortably seated on the ground outside a stall.
As an outsider, he’ll admit that he looked rather out of place as he remained sprawled on the pavement, without a care in the world. A few passing people gave him dirty looks, but no one dared to approach. Not that he minded, as he continued to waste away and do absolutely nothing at all.
The Ascendant was smiling to himself, idly drumming his fingers on the ground in some incoherent code. Any onlookers would think he was in a good mood when in reality, he was only smiling for no apparent reason.
It was well into the afternoon as Roland continued to watch people go by. The artificial sunlight casted its rays onto the lively plaza, the warm weather rendering him lethargic. The place was bustling with life; children ran excitedly to the brightly decorated stalls offering sweets and toys, while everyone else all seemed so eager to get somewhere.
There was never a dull moment on Babylonia; the spaceship was a paradise for humans and constructs alike, far from any sign of the Punishing Virus and its corruption. Of course, it was all thanks to their brave heroes who fought their wars and battles.
At the thought, Roland finally stood up and stretched, slowly heading toward the Babylonian military establishment.
-
Roland made his way into the building, sauntering down the corridor. Located at the upper region of the spaceship, the military headquarters was just as busy as always. Both constructs and military personnel went in and out, always in a hurry to their next mission or another meeting.
Upon arriving at the main hub, he briefly stopped in front of an announcement board. He stared at the holographic screen, watching the endless streams of updates and messages fly by.
“H-hey, is that a—”
“ Quiet ! Keep moving.”
A group of constructs were staring at him, before they hurriedly ran off when they met his gaze. Out of fear of the Punishing Virus, people were keeping their distance from Roland, the red light in his left eye a telltale sign of a Corrupted. Not that it bothered him, though, as Roland was used to being the subject of attention.
He continued his journey down the hallway, passing more construct squads who all shot him death glares or avoided him as much as possible. “ Ascendant ” some of them muttered the word under their breath as he went by.
That’s right, an Ascendant.
A villainous knave who serves as the plot's adversary, the antagonist who must be vanquished by the mighty heroes. It had become routine to Roland, as he had dedicated a large portion of his time fighting against the Gray Ravens and the other Babylonian forces — all for Miss Luna and the Ascension Network.
And yet here he was, strolling around the base of his enemy as if he were right at home.
-
Roland took the elevator down to the lower floor, making his way towards the barracks.
Strangely enough, the passageway was deserted. His footsteps echoed as he travelled down the path, the quiet solitude offering him solace. Beyond the glass windows, countless stars covered the vast void. It was easy to forget that they were all suspended in space — far from the Earth that was once called their home.
And still, there was an odd sense of tranquility as they drifted among the stars.
Passing the area designated for maintenance pods, Roland wandered further until he arrived at the elite squads barracks. Just then, a disheveled Camu — who looked as if he had either just woken up or had gotten into a fight with a tumble dryer — barged out of one of the rooms.
Upon seeing the Ascendant, Camu frowned as he slowed down. Roland grinned at him, offering a cheery wave that would have otherwise been friendly if it had been from any other person. The brooding construct’s expression darkened, but said nothing as he silently brushed past him.
-
Upon entering the lounge, Roland was immediately greeted by the sight of a passed out Gray Raven commandant.
All was still in the room, with the only noise coming from the buzzing of fluorescent lights and low hum of machinery. A large table occupied the middle of the space; paperwork and unfiled reports piled the table, along with random parts of equipment and tools.
Roland directed his attention to the poor commandant, who looked worse for wear. The human was sprawled over on a pile of paperwork, knocked out cold from exhaustion. It appeared that they were in the middle of filling up a form, their hand still gripping an uncapped pen. An untouched cup of coffee sat balanced on a stack of folders, long cold.
It was an amusing sight — drool was dribbling down the side of their face, with their ash gray hair resembling more of a bird's nest. Hadn’t he known any better, Roland would have mistook the renowned Gray Raven commandant for a homeless person asleep at the desk.
Quietly chuckling to himself, he stepped forward and gently knocked on the table’s edge. The commandant jolted awake, a stray piece of paper stuck to their cheek as they stared at Roland.
“Good morning!” the Ascendant cheerfully greeted, knowing full well that it wasn’t morning.
The commandant narrowed their eyes, removing the piece of paper from their face. “Very funny.”
Roland found himself a comfortable spot and leaned against a cabinet, arms crossed to his chest. “Overtime work? How diligent.”
The commandant hummed in response, going back to their mundane task of filling up forms.
“And where are your ravens?”
“Lucia and Liv are meeting up with Bianca.” the commandant replied as they sorted the remaining paperwork into a folder. “Lee went to run some calibration tests.”
“So in other words, their poor commandant is confined to their office, forced to forgo their lunch break, subjected to the horrors of writing reports and processing paperwork… Oh! The misery!” Roland cried out, dramatically clutching his chest.
The commandant squinted at the Ascendant, unsure whether to throw the large folder they were holding at his face or to simply ignore him. Seeing their reaction, Roland laughed.
“There, there. I’m only joking. Why the gloomy expression?” he dejectedly casted his eyes to the ground, pouting as if he were a puppy being told off by its owner.
“You’re always joking.” they scoffed, shooting him with a dubious look. “Don't you have somewhere else better to be, anyway?”
For whatever unknown reason, Roland would find himself going to see the commandant more frequently. There was a strange need to come visit and talk about all kinds of things. If he hadn’t known any better, it was almost an odd sense of yearning.
Yet his heart remained stubbornly closed off.
“Right,” setting aside the file, the commandant finally stood up from their desk. They made their way to the cabinet Roland was leaning against, shoo-ing him aside to open it. Roland watched them curiously, observing as they pulled out a box. Reaching inside, they retrieved a small stuffed animal.
“this is for you.” they held it out to Roland, eagerly waiting for his response.
It did not come off as a surprise, as he had grown accustomed to the commandant giving him all kinds of gifts. The gift this time, however, differed differently from the usual trinkets.
It was a little circus lion; a fancy frill collar was fitted around its neck, along with a bright red button nose. A tiny cone hat perched on its head. There were a few loose threads hanging from its uneven seams, a clear indication that the plush was handmade. Regardless, it was obvious that its creator had given it a lot of thought and care.
Roland continued to stare at the commandant’s outstretched hand, the gift staring back at him. But the tightness in his chest did not go away.
“How sweet. Are you certain you want to offer something so precious to a nobody like me, though?”
There was an edge to his words as Roland eyed the present. Like a cold, starving child being offered the warmth of food, there was an underlying fear that if he were to reach out and take it, he would be admonished for it.
The commandant smiled, head tilted curiously. “Why not? Here, just take it.” Before the Ascendant could react, they had already reached out to grab his hand, depositing the stuffed lion regardless of whether he accepted it or not.
Roland blinked in disbelief as he held out the plush, his arm still awkwardly extended. It felt soft — and if he held it long enough, he could almost feel the residual warmth from the commandant’s hand.
Once more, he was left wondering what he had done to merit such kindness. Time and time again he would tell himself that such gentleness did not exist for a person like him. It was nothing more than wishful thinking, fleeting thoughts that never led to anything more.
And yet, there was someone who was determined to give him said compassion and warmth. From the first moment they crossed paths up to the events that occurred in the abandoned prison, the Gray Raven commandant never seemed to waver in their faith.
Anyone with common sense would know not to blindly trust a stranger they had just met. But to devote his loyalty and affection simply because someone showed him kindness, he supposed he was just as equally foolish.
A slight upturn of his lips gave away his barely restrained amusement. “How curious…” Roland mused, pretending to be deep in thought. “Are all Babylonian commandants as odd as you? Or are you perhaps a more bizarre case?”
“Well, think whatever you want.” The commandant huffed, watching him gently place the stuffed lion aside. “That aside, how are you finding Babylonia?”
“It’s interesting. There are many things to do, places to see, people to meet. Quite the attraction.” At some point, Roland had picked up a vial of serum from a nearby table and had started to fidget with it, turning it over in his palm to study its liquid. “Everyone seems to be having a good time. I'm even starting to enjoy the atmosphere myself.”
The commandant shrugged as they leaned back, sitting on the table’s edge. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like. We have plenty of spare sleeping pods here.”
Joy. Fear. Contempt. Guilt. Like reciting words off a script, they slipped past him one by one. Yet his expression remained impassive as always, refusing to let any emotion show through. They trickled past his fingers, into the endless void that had always been in his shadow.
“I'm not exactly sure I'm welcome here, querido amigo .” Roland laughed, setting aside the vial. “Besides, this place isn’t meant for an outsider like me. It would be more befitting for this old Corrupted to live the life of a wanderer.”
"But wouldn't you want a home you could return to?" the commandant asked softly, lowering their gaze.
Home . The word felt foreign, yet all too familiar.
There was a tight knot in his stomach, a feeling so painful that it was almost agonizing. But just as a moth is drawn to fire, he couldn’t help but to revel in it.
The corner of his mouth twitched. “And what if I told you that there is no home left for me? That I've burnt the only home I’ve had left to the ground?”
At his words, the commandant finally looked up at him. The smile on Roland’s face was forced, plastered onto his lips — as if a mask had been crudely grafted onto his skin. He could almost taste the copper in the back of his throat, the bitterness seeping into his voice.
“Whatever the case, I don't see the point in keeping worthless scrap around in such a lovely home. What value is there in unwanted junk? Besides, bad people aren't deserving of wonderful things in the first place.” Roland suddenly blurted out, the words spilling out before he could stop himself, and perhaps too honestly than he would have wished.
There was a long heavy silence in the room.
Apart from the clock’s quiet ticking and the dull hum of distant machinery, all was still and unmoving. The commandant remained silent, their expression unreadable as Roland waited for a response, almost daring them to say something.
He had always hated the feeling of anticipation. To him, anticipation was nothing more than cruel punishment hidden behind false reassurances. Roland had learned not to expect; if there were no expectations, he would not be able to feel any disappointment. So why then, did he feel so agitated while waiting for the commandant’s answer?
The commandant massaged their temple, studying the hopeless Ascendant, before they finally replied “I don’t think you’re a truly evil person.”
Roland blinked. He opened his mouth to speak, but the commandant cut him off as they continued. “Back at the prison, you could have killed me. There were numerous chances for that, but you didn’t. You keep saying you shouldn’t be trusted, and maybe you’re right. But I’ve decided to believe in you.”
“I really want to get to know you better, to know the real “ you ”. And I genuinely do enjoy your company. Besides, didn’t we agree to keep in touch?” a small smile tugged at their lips. “We still have that movie to talk about. Fort/Da.”
For once, Roland found himself at a loss for words.
He had no witty remark, nor did he have any clever quip to offer as usual. He had always known in his heart that such a moment was surely too good to be true. And so, Roland continued to wait. He waited for the director to yell “ cut! ”, for the cameras to roll out, and for the curtains to draw back revealing the cheering audience,
… and yet that moment never came.
Instead of a stage, Roland discovered himself still grounded in reality. He was still standing in the lounge room along with The Gray Raven commandant, who continued to look at him with such kindness in their eyes.
Roland suddenly found it hard to meet their gaze.
To seek truth in an illusion was a futile attempt at self-preservation — and yet, he still did. To grasp at something, anything at all, was what kept him going. ‘To keep searching for a reason to live.’ But was that all he had ever truly wished for?
In all the lonely years he had spent wandering, serving Ascnet, trying to survive this virus-stricken wasteland of a bygone era, to even live a normal life was a luxury he could never hope to afford. But now that he was finally being offered the chance to live somewhat of a decent life, he was unsure what to do.
Whenever the commandant gave him gifts or showed him compassion, Roland had nothing to give back. All he had to offer was his carefully guarded cynicism and wariness, yet they remained so patient and understanding. They never once expected him to give anything back, nor did they ever hold it against him for acting that way.
He hated how gently they always looked at him, but most of all, he hated how helpless he felt. Forgive me. For if, under your steely gaze, there was any sign of interest, I was very slow to see it.
“My, is this a confession? How touching.” Roland finally spoke, flashing a sly grin. His words were sarcastic in nature, but his grateful tone and earnest expression conveyed otherwise.
“ Really? After being silent for so long, is that all you have to say?” the commandant burst into laughter, a silvery tune as sweet and clear as a bell.
A smile flickered across his face, genuine for once. “In any case, you have my gratitude.”
“If you want to thank me, then how about we head for lunch together?” they cheerfully beamed, a grin slowly edging its way onto their face. “ Your treat, of course.”
“Well, I don't think constructs are physically capable of eating—”
“ Oh , come on. Let’s go already!” the commandant huffed, dragging him by the arm out of the lounge and ignoring the wide-eyed stares from several constructs down the corridor.
Roland laughed as his heart started to soar, childlike joy bubbling from within and to the surface.