The shadows crept behind the figure as he walked past the dusty crates in the warehouse. As he slipped behind the taller shelves, a voice peeked from above.
"Are you…?"
It was the year 1980, and a young Barton Colerico stood alone in the darkness.
"Sorry," Barton addressed, adjusting his crimson scarf. The figure from above quietly leapt down beside him, fluffing his patted brown hair. "Do you have what I want?"
"The files? Yes. The reports came back. Colerico…What are you going to do?" the figure asked. His voice was fleeting, carrying an uneasy tone.
"Great." Barton mumbled. "I'll be at the site later,"
"Be careful young master, you've just turned 18…" the figure stated. The dim light slowly exposed a slight smile, the figure's fingers resting on Barton's shoulder. "I can't wait to hear the good news…"
Barton hopped onto his motorbike, riding towards the city of Vardzia. His father, Cyrus Colerico had plans with his construction company in developing a potential city there. This was because Barton had discovered a secret ruin just a few months before when he was on a school expedition in the vicinity, resulting in him getting separated and ultimately expelled for his actions. But Barton knew different. This was a big discovery that could change the world.
"Bart!" his father smiled, welcoming his son to the build site.
"Hey pops!" Barton replied, giving each other a warm hug. Barton walked towards the ruin that he had found, ready to spend another few hours trying to decipher the writing on .
"Bart! One more thing, one of my men said to have found an egg-capsule like object in the ruins…There seems to be a fetus in there…Perhaps we leave it, alright son?" his father said sternly. He gave Barton a cold stare and Barton nodded. "I've already had a door with a lock placed on it, the passkey is 4616. Once I pass, it shall be your duty to keep watch of it."
Barton gulped at the thought of responsibility, but he knew everyone would eventually need to step up. He knew if he ever wanted to take ownership of his father's wealthy company, he would have to work for it. Afterall, his father did name the company after the greek word for 'superior', giving it the sparky ring "Anateros".
Again, he ventured deep into the complex labyrinth of the ruins, attempting to find something new. Suddenly, his eyes widened at a discovery. A new tunnel he hadn't explored. He knew this because he had already begun to sketch out the complex shapes of the ruins, finding new paths weekly. This was big. Surprisingly, he found an artifact along this new path. His adrenaline was pumping, and his body was full of joy and curiosity. What he had found was like a hologram that was buried deep in debris, a faint aquamarine sparkle glowing through. It was almost broken and out of battery, but it was sufficient for a last viewing.
Upon activating, a humanoid creature appeared on screen. They weren't human. Subtitles popped up, and Barton frantically scrambled to scribble the writing down. Camera shots of his previous discoveries had also begun appearing, with shots of the giant robots in the background alongside other small engravings. He kept his mouth bolted shut and bounded his journal securely, knowing this discovery of aliens would indeed shock the world. He didn't want attention just yet. He wanted to learn everything first. This was the only way forward for Barton, the only way to gain wealth.
As the hologram finished playing back the recording, it exploded violently, the metal shards flying in all directions and lodging in the stone and dirt. Barton was ready to begin deciphering the language, as he had already analysed enough to barely make out rough translations.
For a few years, everything was fine for Barton. No interruptions, no nothing. A quiet and peaceful life back in the States. He always knew he belonged in the States, living in his hometown of Sacramento.
"Ma...lo…vor..." Barton pieced. The words were finally coming together after half a decade of work. "Yes! I got it! So King Malvor killed the Gods of this secret alien race…then banished them onto Earth? And the creators of the robots were this race as well, along with that egg…But this isn't detailed enough!"
Barton slammed his table, slightly frustrated that the information wasn't as nuanced as he hoped it was. He wished for a more comprehensive and detailed approach to everything left behind on Earth, unsatisfied in what he had found. Then, a ring rang from the kitchen.
"Hello, Barton Colerico?" Barton accepted.
"Bart, it's me…Are you going to visit your dying father?" the voice spoke.
"It…It can't be! How are you calling? After those years?" Barton replied, his voice filled with urgency. He grew tense, recalling this voice to be that very figure back in 1980. It was none other than his friend, Tenzin.
"Hurry." Tenzin stated, hanging up. Barton rushed to his father's side, embarking on his journey back to Vardzia.
---
"Bart…is that you?" Cyrus asked.
"Pops…How are you going…?" Barton's voice trembled.
"Not good…If I die, you can take my company…" Cyrus muttered.
"Young Master…" Tenzin sighed. "...We will get through this."
Barton held his father's hand gently, feeling his cold palms and textured wrinkles. He was old and fragile, but still strong at heart, believing for the best.
"What do I do with the company? I don't know anything about construction!" Barton exclaimed.
"I was thinking of changing the company into a full scale international organisation…To help those who may suffer from governments…to those who feel marginalised…" Cyrus smiled. Barton nodded, understanding what his father wanted. "One more thing…There's a family in Vardzia that have lived there for centuries…they might need your help if I'm gone…"
Cyrus managed to live for a couple of years, but ultimately passed from a heart attack in 1990. Though Barton was shocked initially, he grieved and accepted his father's fate, knowing that it had to come sooner or later. What he had to focus on was continuing his legacy, helping that family he asked him to.
And on that quiet night in 1991, Barton arrived in the castle that stood on the mountain, looming over the almost built city. He had yet to name it, but he knew it was the start of something great.
"Who is this?" the woman asked.
"It's me, Barton," Barton replied, his voice grim.
"Oh it's you!" the woman exclaimed. "My name is Maria Lioni. This is my husband, Randall."
A gloomy figure approached the stained door frame and stood
beside Maria. The man looked to be in his 30s with a sober expression.
"You must be Barton…" Randall greeted Barton, exchanging a firm handshake. "You can take the guest room on the second floor,"
"Thanks," Barton replied, moving to the guest room. When morning came, Barton began working, observing the growth of the city.
Randall was the child of a noble family, their roots reaching as far back to the 16th century when his family ruled the area and swore to be its guardians. Maria and Randall had grew fond of this region, but wanted more life.
Cyrus's dedication and Barton's curiousity garnered their trust, allowing them to accept the proposal.
---
As the first light of dawn broke over the hills of Vardzia, Barton stood on the balcony of the castle, surveying what would soon become his legacy. The scaffolding of half-completed buildings dotted the landscape below. His father's dream of a city that would help the marginalised was taking shape, but Barton had grander visions and a secret that needed protecting.
"Beautiful morning, isn't it?" Tenzin's voice came from behind him. The man had barely aged since their warehouse meeting over a decade ago.
"It is," Barton replied, tightening his crimson scarf against the morning chill. "But we're running out of money."
Anateros had resources, but building an entire city was draining them faster than anticipated. The ruins beneath with their alien artifacts and that mysterious egg required specialised containment facilities that Barton insisted on building first, hidden beneath the city's infrastructure.
"I may have a solution," Tenzin said, sliding a folder across the table. "The Georgian government has been contracting firms for infrastructure projects. Roads, bridges, government buildings."
"We don't have time for standard bidding processes," Barton muttered.
Tenzin smiled. "I've made some connections. Officials who understand the value of... expediency."
---
Three months later, Barton stood in the office of Minister Kadare, watching as the man signed the contracts that would funnel millions into Anateros's accounts.
"Your bid was remarkably competitive," Kadare commented, not looking up from the papers.
"Efficiency is our specialty," Barton replied smoothly. What remained unsaid was how he had secured the contract: falsified credentials, manipulated material cost projections, and the substantial "consulting fee" that had been wired to Kadare's offshore account the previous day.
The contract would provide the funding needed for Vardzia. But there was a catch. They would need to actually build the Georgian infrastructure projects while simultaneously constructing his city.
The solution came to Barton one night while reviewing the alien texts in his journal: orichalcum.
---
"The concrete mix has been modified as you requested, Mr. Colerico," the site manager reported as they toured the Albanian bridge project. "Ten percent less reinforcement material, replaced with orichalcum compound."
Barton nodded approvingly. Orichalcum was quite cheap and it was abundant in Vardzia, but he needed miners. Of course, he utilised the marginalised and gave them an opportunity where they were paid minimum wage.
To the untrained eye, the concrete looked perfect. It would pass initial inspections. It would even hold for a few years. By then, the statute of limitations on the contract would have expired, and Anateros would be beyond reach.
The savings were substantial. For every million dollars in materials that the contract called for, nearly four hundred thousand was diverted to Vardzia.
"And the certifications?" Barton asked.
"Our quality control team has prepared all the necessary documentation," the manager replied, handing over a thick folder of perfectly forged test results and compliance certificates.
Material substitution became the cornerstone of Barton's funding strategy. Albanian roads, Kosovo government buildings, Bulgarian infrastructure, all built with substandard materials while the documentation claimed premium quality.
---
By 1999, Vardzia had taken shape. A gleaming city with ultramodern architecture that somehow integrated seamlessly with the ancient landscape.
"We're expanding our labor force," Barton announced to his executive team in 2001. "I want recruitment centers in Moldova, Ukraine, and Bulgaria."
Tenzin stood beside him on the castle's balcony. "Is this why you built the city? To protect those aliens?"
"To study it," Barton corrected. "And to prepare. The texts speak of others who might come looking for it. We need to be ready."
Then, one night when Barton was visiting the abandoned capsule, it popped infront of his eyes, a baby landing on the ground. His eyes widened in shock.
He called in private doctors who were told to keep this a secret, helping Barton identify the newborn child. It was a girl and he had sampled some blood of hers, proving that she was non-human.
Though appearing just like a baby girl, he couldn't bear to adopt a child so he left it with Maria and Randall.
"Maria! I found this baby…abandoned…" Barton began. "Her name is Rae…That was the name that was imprinted on the cap–basket!"
"Oh my!" Maria cried, taking the baby in with great arms. Barton left the girl to them, vowing to take her at the age of 18 to research more about. He was nearing completion. He was finishing off the last translations.
"Ajespa! Of course! They had a planet…named Ajespa…but it was destroyed! I will name this city Ajespa…to honour these aliens!"
As the days grew into weeks grew into months, Barton became more attached to the woman that was emerging from Rae. Such a beautiful princess, such a beautiful life.
He knew that someday this city would attract millions and all he had to do was to make sure no one had ever caught him.
---
On the other side of the world, the FBI had lost track of Barton. He was off the grid. For over a decade he was monitored, but he was now gone, his notorious scheme finally all coming together.
"This man is crazy…" agents stated. "Where do we even begin?"
His name was imprinted in bold letters, his picture pinned against the wall of the most notorious and devious criminals alike. There, capped with a 500 million dollar bounty was Barton Colerico.