The Atlantian System: Creation

With a small bow of her head, Leta indicated for the woman to go first as they were escorted through the doors and into the Museum’s back halls.

It looked exactly like she recalled: old linoleum floors and plain walls featuring the usual Greek safety posters. Faded ceiling tiles overhead created a sterile and emotionless atmosphere, in stark contrast to the vibrant and inspiring exhibits in the public areas.

Leta’s unsettling stare inspected each speck of dust, carrying an air of superiority as if she owned the place.

Two extra guards were assigned to the entrance of the main elevators, which were responsible for moving the larger exhibit items. Upon Stefana’s arrival, they too bowed and maintained lowered heads until she guided them into the elevator.

‘Is it wrong to like this?’ Leta thought to herself as the doors closed in front of her. That feeling of power - of immediate respect - was a heady sensation.

It was clear to her how those in positions of power throughout history had developed an insatiable craving for that boundless sensation.

The subbasement revealed itself as the elevator doors slid open, featuring a long room with doors on all sides and a weathered wooden table in the center.

When Leta was a child, she remembered this door from a tour of the back halls with her father. According to the friendly guide, the doors led to the old physical records of the exhibits. A wide range of documents, including financial records, meeting minutes, and artifact restoration receipts, were stored here.

“Things happen, as you know from reading about history.” the old volunteer guide had winked at her with all the humor of a doting grandmother. “You might forget a key detail and need to look it up, or something bad has happened and you need to connect the dots to find out why it happened at all. We’re still working on digitizing all of this, so these are still necessary.”

The presence of two guards dressed in black by an unmarked door made it evident that there was more than just old records down here.

As Stefana held the door open, the two guards, a dark-haired woman and a tall blond man, bowed their heads, exposing a closet filled with stacks of old cardboard banker boxes.

Leta was on the verge of breaking character when she saw it, fully anticipating a lair reminiscent of James Bond, complete with high-tech gadgets.

Advancing towards the front, the man with blond hair pulled one of the banker boxes forward, causing the bookshelf to shift and uncovering a lengthy concrete hallway that descended gradually.

‘Maybe James Bond does exist,’ Leta mused to herself. ‘Or Batman. This has some real Bruce Wayne vibes.’

The cold hallway opened up to a large stone expanse the size of a medium-sized house where around twenty or so people all dressed in the same black attire moved about.

One side of the room looked like a copy of the War Room back at the Sect, complete with a wall covered in LED TV screens and a hologram display area the size of a dining table.

The other side of the room could only be described as a sort of barracks. Three rows of metal bunks that looked mighty uncomfortable were folded up flat against the wall next to racks of weapons and armor of various shapes and sizes.

There were numerous large boxes resembling oversized coolers filled with MREs and other provisions to sustain the small army.

A massive metal door stood between the barracks and the war room, towering over the entire wall and wide enough to make any New York banker envious. The door was open, revealing that the vault was several feet thick and housing a small metallic work table were some small unrecognizable items rested.

The room grew quiet as Leta took in her surroundings upon entering. She was unaware that the static had made her long silver hair dance around her like coiling snakes.

The combination of her eyes’ flickering blue and her overwhelming presence gave her the appearance of a goddess among humans.

The individuals in the room almost simultaneously knelt on one knee, demonstrating reverence by lowering their heads and quietly uttering “Your Majesty”.

Leta discreetly stole a glance at Allister.

She interpreted the crinkle around his eyes as a positive response, indicating that she was making the intended impression.

“Rise.” Her command echoed through the room, making the weakest of the group shiver.

As he stepped forward and bowed his head in greeting, Mic, the leader, was easily recognized in the crowd.

“Your Majesty. Welcome to the Vault.”

Leta raised a hand to stop him from going further. “You may dispense with the pleasantries, as our time is short. Show me the Blade.”