Hours passed in transit, the Valkyrie carrying its cargo south through darkness and cloud cover.
Finally, they arrived at Primogenitor Isle. The aircraft descended through the hangar's open deck plating and settled onto its designated pad with barely a tremor. The loading ramp dropped, and servo-robots emerged to claim their newest charge.
Deep within the base, in sections that had been excavated but not yet assigned purpose, an area existed that served perfectly for what Nolan had in mind. The space was vast and empty, roughly carved from rock, with minimal lighting that cast everything in shades of grey and shadow. No furnishings, no equipment, just bare stone and metal floor plating.
Under that dim illumination, automatic servo-robots worked with methodical precision. Their manipulator arms handled thick golden chains, each link as wide as a human wrist, forged from materials rated for superhuman resistance. The chains were being secured to anchor points embedded in the metal floor, creating a web of restraints impossible to break through strength alone.
At the center of this web lay Titania.
Her joints remained dislocated from the Valkyrie, arms and legs at angles that prevented leverage or coordinated movement. The servo-robots positioned her with care, treating her damaged body gently despite the violence that had brought her here. Around the perimeter, Scyllax-class Guardian-automata formed a living cage, their serpentine bodies coiled and ready, mechanical eyes tracking every minute movement.
Nolan stood several meters distant, observing the process with professional detachment. When the chains were properly secured, when the robots had stepped back and confirmed their work, he raised one hand in a simple gesture.
A designated servo-robot approached Titania's unconscious form, carrying a small injector filled with crystal-clear liquid. The All-Soul Resurrection Potion, a few milliliters only, was administered directly into the stump where her arm had been severed. The robot's manipulators were surprisingly gentle, the injection precise and controlled.
The effect was immediate and grotesque.
Granulation tissue erupted from the cauterized wound, pink and glistening, growing with visible speed. The flesh writhed as it expanded, new cells forming and organizing themselves into proper structure. Muscle fibers knitted together, blood vessels extended their networks, nerve endings reached outward seeking connections.
But the growth stopped before bone could form, before the limb could truly regenerate. The potion's limited dosage exhausted itself, leaving only a healed stump covered in fresh skin, sealed and viable but incomplete.
Titania's eyes snapped open.
Her pupils were dilated, bloodshot, the whites threaded with broken capillaries. Consciousness returned all at once, bringing with it awareness of her situation. She tried to surge upward, muscles bunching for explosive movement.
Nothing happened.
Her dislocated shoulders screamed protest, joints grinding in their sockets but unable to generate meaningful force. The chains held effortlessly, distributing her strength across multiple anchor points designed for exactly this scenario. Her legs kicked weakly, hips unable to properly engage.
Realization struck with the force of physical impact.
"Cowardly bastards!" Her voice emerged hoarse and ragged, throat damaged from screaming during the transport. "Release me! Face me properly, you spineless—"
She tried to thrash, succeeded only in rattling chains that barely shifted. Her neck, the only joint still functional, craned desperately, attempting to take in her surroundings.
Nolan's power armor engaged, servos humming to life. He walked forward with measured steps, each footfall deliberate and loud, announcing his approach.
When he reached speaking distance, he raised one hand in another casual gesture.
A mechanical tentacle from the nearest Scyllax-class Guardian-automata shot forward, wrapping around Titania's torso and lifting her slightly off the floor. Not enough to provide comfort, just enough to ensure she could see him clearly without straining her neck.
"Titania." Nolan's voice carried no emotion, just flat statement of fact. "Leo of Leviathan's Zodiac. Diplomatic specialist." He tilted his helmet slightly, studying her like a specimen. "My questions are straightforward. The teleportation technology you employed interests me greatly. I'd appreciate if you'd share details about its operation. Additionally, if you're inclined to cooperate, information regarding Leviathan's primary base of operations would be valuable."
Before the final syllable finished, Titania's face contorted into a snarl.
She gathered what saliva remained in her dry mouth and spat with surprising accuracy. The glob struck Nolan's mag-boot, sliding slowly down the ceramite surface.
"That armor style..." Her voice carried bitter recognition. "Guardians of Terra. So Magnum and the others failed completely. Idiots."
A laugh bubbled from her throat, harsh and mocking. "You want Leviathan intelligence? Sure, I'll tell you everything. Right after you get on your knees and lick my—"
Movement behind Nolan interrupted her crude suggestion.
More servo-robots emerged from the shadows, their manipulator arms carrying objects that gleamed under the minimal lighting. Metal instruments, each one carefully crafted, their purposes evident from their design. Blades and pincers. Drills and hooks. Things designed to cut and tear and extract.
They arranged themselves in neat rows behind Nolan, a display of options, a promise of what could come.
"I recognize you're resilient." Nolan's tone remained conversational, almost friendly. "Tougher than most I've encountered. Therefore, I asked my technical staff to prepare specialized equipment for our conversation."
He reached back without looking, selecting one instrument at random. A curved blade, razor-sharp, with carefully calibrated depth markers along its edge.
"This implement is designed for dermis removal. When operated by servo-robot with proper programming, it can peel human skin with remarkable precision." He held it up, letting light catch the blade's edge. "According to my staff, successful application can remove an entire human epidermis while keeping the subject conscious. You'd be able to observe your own musculature in real-time. Quite educational, I'm told."
He set it aside, selected another device. This one was more complex, a cylinder studded with rotating gears.
"And this piece was inspired by creature called Tyranid. The mechanism drills into the body cavity through any orifice or wound, then deploys internal gears that grind skeletal structure." Nolan's helmet tilted, as if considering the engineering. "My staff estimates it could pulverize every bone in your body sequentially, starting with extremities and working toward the core. The process would take hours."
Fear flickered through Titania's eyes, just for a moment, before pride and training reasserted control.
She forced a sneer, the expression not quite reaching her eyes. "Torturing women. How brave. How impressive." Her voice carried manufactured contempt. "If you had any spine, you'd just kill me and be done with it."
Nolan's posture shifted, and somehow despite the helmet, she could feel him smiling.
He reached toward his power pack's storage compartment and withdrew something small. A crystalline object, ice-blue and perfectly formed, catching light like captured winter.
"This is called Panacea, the same thing that give your arm back" He held it where she could see clearly. "Our proprietary medical technology. The name suggests its capabilities, which are indeed substantial." His fingers rotated the crystal slowly. "Even if we systematically disassemble your body, piece by piece, organ by organ, as long as your brain maintains minimal function, this will restore you to functional condition."
The crystal disappeared back into storage.
"Recovery means we can begin the next session. And the next. And the one after that." Nolan stepped closer, his bulk blocking most of the ambient light. "You want death? That option isn't available. Not for quite some time."
Titania's facial muscles twitched, control slipping despite her best efforts. Her breath came faster, shorter, the physiological response to terror overriding conscious will.
Nolan reached for another instrument.
A sound emerged from Titania's throat. Not words, not yet speech, just a wail of pure despair that started deep in her chest and clawed its way past teeth and tongue into the cold air.
The sound echoed off stone walls, multiplying, returning to its source in overlapping waves of hopelessness.
Time passed. Exactly how much remained uncertain in the timeless space deep within the base.
Eventually, Nolan emerged from the dimly lit area. He carried a cloth, using it to wipe blood spatters from his armor's ceramite surface. The spots were small, concentrated around joints and seams, the kind of pattern that suggested proximity to injury rather than infliction.
David waited in the corridor beyond, his metal frame adopting a posture that somehow suggested patient attendance despite lacking the musculature to truly achieve it.
Nolan looked up, making eye contact with glowing optical sensors. "She's resilient. Genuinely impressive willpower. Survived several procedures before breaking." His tone carried grudging respect. "But everyone breaks eventually."
The cloth continued its work, cleaning methodically. "The teleportation technology is highly classified within Leviathan. Only the Gemini leadership, their top-tier command structure, possesses complete operational knowledge. However, based on internal Zodiac communications, Titania speculates the technology is extraterrestrial in origin. Alien equipment recovered and adapted for human use. The specific species remains unknown without direct investigation."
Nolan paused in his cleaning, considering something. "David, have you heard of Latveria? The name feels familiar. Balkan Peninsula, bordering Serbia if I recall correctly?"
"I have basic data on the nation," David confirmed. "Small country, historically unstable, frequent regime changes."
"According to Titania, Leviathan invested approximately twenty years establishing control there." Nolan resumed wiping his armor, the motion automatic now. "They supported a family named Fotunov, provided resources and protection, engineered their rise to power. Eventually, the Fotunov overthrew the original ruling monarchy."
His cyan eyes, visible now with his helmet removed, focused on David with intensity. "Latveria currently functions as Leviathan's puppet state. A country within a country, completely under their operational control."
"However," and here Nolan's expression shifted to something approaching amusement, "the Fotunov family proves to be incompetent administrators. Stupid, violent, and extraordinarily greedy. Their mismanagement has spawned resistance movements throughout the region. This is why Titania, as Leo, conducts diplomatic missions to neighboring nations. Building alliances, securing support, attempting to stabilize a situation their own proxies destabilized."
He finished cleaning and tucked the cloth away. "It's also likely why Leviathan actively recruits external military organizations. They need reinforcements to maintain control over a population that increasingly hates them."
Silence settled between them for several heartbeats. Then Nolan and David turned to face each other fully, a moment of shared understanding passing without words.
"My lord," David's mechanical voice carried careful neutrality, "do you have specific thoughts regarding this intelligence?"
Blue light pulsed in his optical sockets, the rhythm suggesting David already knew the answer but wanted verbal confirmation.
"David." Nolan's smile widened. "Don't pretend you're not thinking the same thing."
The Man of Iron's skull tilted in what might have been acknowledgment. "Even if we consider it merely... practice. Preparation for future endeavors."
"Exactly." Nolan's voice dropped conspiratorially. "After all, governing a nation presents substantial challenges. Complex systems, entrenched bureaucracies, resistant populations."
"However," David's tone matched Nolan's, the two of them building consensus through shared conclusion, "stealing a country proves considerably simpler than administering one."
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