In the age of steel and bloodshed where the very stability of the world was questioned, five authorities were chosen from the puppeteers above in order to maintain balance. As divinities, they rose to rule the world, each claiming their own piece of the globe. This council of fabricated Gods was called R.A.N.G.E. They were perfectly mortal, yet their abilities and limitations often said otherwise.
To provide them with unmatched strength, the five were subjected to lakes of concealed origins where they soaked their bodies for countless days. Replacing their blood, power flowed through their veins. With this, they were now bound to their companies by fate and contract, swearing an oath to give up their bodies for the sake of their masters.
Now with the new system, the puzzle pieces seemed to connect and all fell into place. However, the Greed of man is stronger than any kind of fate.
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Five shadows sit faceless, circled around a long table. Their figures are darkened, though it would be impossible not to notice them there.
"They were supposed to be here, but I suppose they had better things to do. Now, what's this about you supposedly creating a living weapon, Zillman?"
One of the five speaks up, their voice booming through the room and sparking up fires in everyone present.
"If you're trying to combat us, then I'll gladly fight!" An obnoxiously loud-voice bounces off the walls and sends echoes into everyone's ears, making them ring. The sound of clothes ruffling from the man being questioned by all ceases the noise and brings immediate silence.
"I've no idea what this meeting was called for. To waste my time, perhaps?"
His deep, no-nonsense tone represents his authority as he stands, his face now illuminated by the natural light above.
"To address your concerns, it is not a weapon, but a human being. I've simply enlisted him into my company, that's all. I've no interest in fighting you lot, it would only bring unnecessary trouble."
Before walking away, a woman's laughter halts his movement, causing him to whip his head around and face the source.
"So, we've resorted to hiring children to deal with our dirty work, have we, Alexander?" She exclaims. Only a scoff is given in response; that, and a silent warning. The man called Zillman turns his back, escaping their prosecution.
"I can assure you, Solia, this boy is much more than a child. Even amongst my arsenal of blades, I find him to be the sharpest. It's only right that he's a natural-born troublemaker. He's my nephew after all: Threade."
The string-thin blade produced from a fragment of my flesh flashes across theirs, cutting them down before they have a chance to react. My comrades beside me whip their blades against the floor, staining the halls with black blood; A signal to show that they've long completed the mission. I let out a sigh of relief, quickly cleansing myself of any blood or filth—the very thought of such scum making contact with clothes and skin turns my soul.
"How many assassins are going to be sent by those rivaling companies? I have dates that I'm missing because of this, it's getting to be a bother!"
One of my many allies: Ignis voices, spinning his blade around in an attempt to seem unbothered.
"Don't you think so, Threade?"
He addresses me casually, turning to lock eyes with me, though I immediately turn away and scowl. His friendliness is a farce, he's always trying to find some way to show off his good-looks. His long, white hair and perfectly-clear caramel skin shone untouched, even amidst all of this bloodshed. He has fiery orange eyes with pulsating pupils that you must never look too long into. I can practically feel him glaring daggers into my back.
"Are women all you think about? Try to show some prestige. Are you forgetting you're an associate of AEGIS?"
Lucien asks, his voice laced with justified exhaustion. He's standing close to me, his back against the wall and his phone to his face. The screen reflects his silver eyes that match his pale skin. He brushes a strand of his tacky teal hair away from his nose, just as he pushes his phone in my face.
"Look. Mr. Zillman says he'll be arriving soon. Think he's going to assign a mission to us? How disappointing... after we just finished one, too. I'd hate to be his nephew."
The sound of a notification grabs Lucien's notification and he pulls his phone back into his hands.
"Hey, Cain just texted. Asked how everything went."
I click my tongue in disdain.
"That bum? How about he actually gets off his ass for once to find out?"
Cain: surprisingly, he's one of us five associates working under Alexander Zillman, though he has nothing to show for it. He's one of our colleagues and like us, works under Alexander Zillman. Excluding my uncle, Cain's strength is absolutely unrivaled. His ability is unique and provides him with unforeseen advantages. That's really all there is to praise him for, since he's a lazy 30-year-old man who neglects his duties half the time. Cutting my monologue in half, the air around me suddenly chills and takes my breath away. It feels as if time itself has stopped, and my eyes are looking at the world in slow-motion. It's not a supernatural occurrence, but fear. The short feeling of unease that anyone would get when he arrives. Only his footsteps reverberate throughout the hallway, everything else is kept in a still, like even the inanimate objects are frozen in fear of his presence.
"Good work, everyone. Dealt with precision and... grace, I suppose. Per usual."
My anxiety fades upon hearing his voice, and I release a long gasp. Even though he's my uncle whom I've seen many times, it's difficult not to react the way I did when he appears unnoticed. Alexander Zillman, The World's Greatest Weapon. I try my hardest not to face him, in case he has an assignment for me. Ignis nods his head in greeting and Lucien grunts, his fingers dancing across his phone screen, which isn't uncommon. Ignis walks toward Mr. Zillman, wrapping his arm around his shoulder in a rather friendly manner.
"So, tell us, Alex. How was the meeting?"
He inquires, flashing an overly-wide grin. Even when faced with such disrespect, though common from Ignis, he doesn't react. Mr. Zillman's hat which he always wears covers his expressions, so no one can ever tell what he's thinking. Perhaps it's the reason why Ignis is so carefree around him. Mr. Zillman responds in the same tone, unveiling no signs of frustration or annoyance.
"It wasn't anything special. Barely anything was said and I gathered little information. The hosts didn't even bother to show up."
"You mean those old geezers, C.A.G.E?"
Mr. Zillman nods, rubbing his temples behind his shadowed face.
"Recently, they've been quite a problem. A threat to this company and the other four apart of the big five: R.A.N.G.E. They're meant to be the ones we answer to, but it seems like they're trying to force us to submit to their control."
He turns toward me, handing me a neatly-folded paper that was tucked deeply into his coat.
"You'll need this for where you're going tonight. One of the associates of REGALIA usually hangs out at this location every Tuesday. Find him and give him this note."
I try to hide my vexation as I snatch the paper from his hand rather forcibly. He barely ever utters a word to me, but is always ready to casually ask me to risk my life for him. I can't complain because this is what I signed up for, and I can't question him.
We're tied by blood, but separated by authority. Wasting no time, I walk away from the scene, slamming through the doors that unveil the starry night sky. The streets are busy and packed, I can barely hear my own thoughts over the sounds of car horns and pedestrians yelling at drivers. The city is bright and colorful, even with its unknown dark side, that being the entirety of R.A.N.G.E.
I walk along the sidewalk, unfolding the paper handed to me every now and then to ensure I'm going the right way. Naturally, countless people pass me, and I pass them. They're oblivious to the true nature of the five corporations that control this world. It may seem normal to them from the outside, but once you get involved in this alternate world, there's absolutely no turning back.
As I'm walking and paying little attention to my surroundings, I halt and look upwards. There stands a tall building, so grand that the top shies to reveal itself. Its wide nameplate reads, REGALIA in bold letters... meaning this is the official company building for one of R.A.N.G.E's top five.
Out of all the things I thought of, this was the last I expected. I take a deep breath and push through the doors, instantly being greeted with class and luxury. Men and women cross paths, dressed in suits and incredible styles I've not seen before. I look on in awe, the sheer grandeur of everything here amazing me. Breaking me out of my distraction, a man dressed in a common black suit approaches me, his cape just barely covering his well-polished shoes.
"Welcome. We were expecting you, Threade of AEGIS,"
He greets me, taking a quick glance at the paper in my hand, confirming my invitation.
"Allow me to lead you to the dressing room to change into something more... fitting."
I nod in agreement, shooting him a dirty look as soon as his back is turned. The hell is wrong with what I'm wearing?
I admire myself in the mirror in the dressing room, the sharp colorful suit complimenting my pink hair and emerald-green eyes. It's cropped and patterned in bright colors: pink, red, and violet. I'm surprised they prepared a suit matching my fashion sense without getting more than a second's look at me. That's the biggest modelling corporation in the world for you. I pull the curtains aside, the man from earlier standing on guard, awaiting my arrival.
"Ah, you're finished, are you? I must say, you're looking quite presentable. More so than what you were wearing last time. What an eyesore, agreed?"
I chuckle awkwardly, holding back the urge to retort. He begins to lead me somewhere far away from the dressing room, now standing in front of a set of dual doors. He bows and steps aside, clearing the way.
"Please, enjoy your time here." Without having to lift a finger, the doors open wide, beyond them a grand ballroom with hundreds of people talking amongst themselves and drinking. In the middle of the room lies a runway where models are walking up and down and wearing the insignia of REGALIA. I delve further in, analyzing my surroundings and concealing my astonishment.
"Yo, you! You're him, aren't you? I can just tell. Come on, come on, let's have us a chat."
A striking voice snaps me back to reality. In the golden room, there he looms, sitting at one of the numerous tables, his arms around two women opposite sides to him, and his legs rested on the table. It's impossible not to notice him— his hair is unruly and dyed orange, red, and golden. His dark sunglasses shadow his eyes, yet I can still see what kind of person he is. He adjusts the sleeves of his baggy white suit as I proceed with caution. It feels as if he can smell my unease. One of the women to his side reaches over and takes off his sunglasses, biting her red-stained lip. Abruptly, the man's eyes narrow, any hint of his once upbeat expression, now gone.
"So, you're one of those five associates of that weapon-producing corporation, aren't you... what's it called, AEGIS? Look, I don't give a shit about what's in your hand, but you're real brave coming here all by yourself, I'll give you that. Ain't you heard? The alliance amongst the big five has broken."