The Nexus Anthology [CANONICAL STORY COLLECTION]

[The Nexus of Man]

The stories of all; from the blessed to the wretched.

Hello, and welcome to my Anthology Catalog! This is really for my personal use (as in building back-story, canon, etc.), but you can look around if you want to. You can even suggest new ideas for stories, if you'd like! Comments are well appreciated, but telegramming them would be the best.

Table of Contents

--->The Introduction Post: You are here!<---

As-Salamu Alaykum - A - CA - CAL - CR - DA - M - MC - TP
Nay, Thy Time Hast Not Come - A - CA - CR - DA - M - TP
Pronouncement of the Activation of PURELIGHT - CAN - CIN - NEX - UW
The Blood of God: The Chalice - [SERIES TAG] CAN - CIN - NEX - NSFW
The Necteric Oath - CAN - CIN - DI - NEX - NSFW

• Interstellar Soundtrack - For stories marked A, R, and W.
  
  • Mountains - For stories marked A, R, and W.
  • No Time For Caution - For stories marked A, R, and W.
  • Day One - For stories marked A, R, and W.
  • S.T.A.Y - For stories marked R, S, and W.
  • Where We're Going - For stories marked S, R, and W.
  • Detach - For stories marked A, R, S, and W.
  • Stay - For stories marked R, S, and W.
  • Dust - For stories marked R, S, and L.
• We Are Strong - For stories marked A, CR, DA, and FR.

• A - Action (Involving, guns, explosions, and more guns.)
• ARD - Ardavian (A story that revolves around or includes Ardavian characters/problems/missions.)
• CA - Canonical (Set concretely with Nexus canon, and thus correlating with Frenkish, Mechanocratic, and Ardavian canon.)
• CAL - Caliphate (A story that revolves around or includes Caliphate characters/problems/missions.)
• CIN - Controversial (a.k.a "umg triggered" content)
• CR - Crime (Drugs, money, trafficking, robbery, those kinds of shenanigans.)
• DA - Dark (Although not as disturbing as the disturbing tag itself, Dark stories usually involve bad things happening.)
• DI - Disturbing (This tag is only used when stories involve disturbing environments, actions, and characters. Basically, a degree or two higher than dark.)
• DY - Diary/Journal (A story that is written in the form of a diary or journal.)
• FP - First Person (Any first person Point of View [POV] story.)
• FR - Frenkish (A story that revolves around or includes Frenkish characters/problems/missions.)
• H - Humorous (Stories that invoke silly or comical characters or settings.)
• L - Life (Any story that is centered around the general life of a character or characters.)
• LU - Lunar (Involving the moon. Not to be confused with Lunikian - LK.)
• LK - Lunikian (A story that revolves around or includes Lunikian characters/problems/missions.)
• M - Mature (Stories that invoke mature themes will have this tag.)
• MC - Mechanocratic (A story that revolves around or includes Mechanocratic characters/problems/missions.)
• NEX - Nexus (A story that revolves around or includes Nexus characters/problems/missions.)
• NSFW - Not Safe for Work (A story that usually has graphic, extremely violent, or other themes even beyond mature.)
• PO - Poem (A poem. The type? Many.)
• R - Religious (These stories usually involve religion, whether it it religious characters or a religious setting.)
• S - Sad (Any story that invokes sad or sorrowful emotions.)
• SXC - I wonder what word it may be... (Intimate relations.)
• TP - Third Person (Any story that has a third person view.)
• UW - Unique Writing (A story with writing that is not normally used.)
• W - War (Stories that involve battles, conflicts, and war.)

[The Nexus of Man]

Nay, Thy Time Hast Not Come
A (Action) - CA (Canonical) - CR (Crime) - DA (Dark) - FR (Frenkish) - M (Mature) - TP (Third Person)

---

"Shit..."

Jamar drew long upon the reefer that was cradled in his fingers, before exhaling wisps of smoke from his nose and lips. He sat comfortably in a luxurious chair, deeply contrasting the dirty and dank room that he sat in, speckled with dust and dirt. Used needles and blunt remains dotted the floors, while guns of varying shapes and sizes were tacked to the dirty walls. A Brabor lazily slept alongside Jamar, wearing a large leather collar upon it's neck. He called for his guards once, and once again, to help him pick a new gun for a planned drive-by.

"Where the fuck they at?"

Jamar slowly rose from his chair, making his pet Brabor stir awake. As he walked towards the lackadaisically-assembled wooden door, he felt a surge of apprehension come over his body, sending down several chills down his back. It wasn't his weed or other drugs; he'd grown used to their effects. He felt for his M56 machine pistol, and backed away from the door. Just then, he noticed thick blood slowly oozing out from the underbelly of the door, it's rotten stink invading his once smokey nostrils. He jumped back in disgust and fear, and quickly pulled out his M56. As he looked back, he saw that his Brabor started to growl and froth at the mouth, seemingly going crazy for no reason. Jamar looked back at the door, and started to approach it slowly.

"Yo, is anyone there? Why the fuck is there blood?"

As Jamar toted his gun with one hand, he quickly opened the door with the other as his Brabor trotted beside him.

He shrunk back in fear.

One of Jamar's gang members stood at the door, blood dribbling from his mouth.

"There lookin' for you Jamar..."

The gangbanger collapsed onto the floor, smacking against the blood already pooling against the dirty and stained tile. Jamar tried to hoist his friend up, but his eyes were already milky white.

"How the fuck did he die so quickly?"

Jamar then realized that a flechette round pierced the gangbanger in the back, between two spinal plates. He pulled out the flechette, and saw that a liquid vial was attached.

Poison.

Rounds then began to fly from the walls of the hallway in front of him, shredding the plaster and drywall to bits. Catching him in surprise, one bullet spiraled through his leg after shooting through the wall. he yelped in pain, and fell to the floor. Several gangsters charged through the walls, wearing fragmented masks and sporting frizzy hair. Jamar, upon seeing them, lit them up with his M56. One of them got most of the bullets, ending up in fleshy swiss cheese. Blood instantly flowed from the holes, but the gangster did not crumple to the floor. Instead, he just charged Lamar with a homemade firelance. Just as the gangster was about to plunge the lance into Jamar, his pet Brabor sunk it's teeth into the gangster's flesh.

"I'MA FUCKING CHOKE YOU AND DISEMBOWEL YOU, BITCH!"

Stalled and screaming, the gangster did not notice the men that were congregating behind Jamar. A loud cock of a shotgun finally grabbed the attention of the gangster. As he turned his attention to Jamar, a shotgun barrel was aimed at his head. The gangster smiled, before lunging at the men. The gangster's head then exploded in a gooey and grey mess, before collapsing on Jamar's body. Teeth and skull shards rained in the room, as friendly gangbangers jumped from the hole in the roof above. Jamar shrieked in fear as blood randomly erupted from the stump, flooding into his mouth and nose. A gangbanger pulled the body off of Jamar, and helped Jamar up. Jamar then vomited up the foreign blood, all the while sobbing. Jamar's helper then stuck a needle into his leg, near the bullet wound, to stop the pain.

"Yo, J, you 'aight? We bein' slaughtered by these muddafuckin' freaks! They high on some bath salt level shit, so we needa go now!"

Jamar recognized the gangbanger that spoke as his lieutenant, Deondre. Deondre and some other gangbangers hoisted the injured Jamar to a rope that was being held by comrades in the hole-blown roof. Jamar breathed heavily in pain as he was elevated through several levels of bullet-strewn battlegrounds, before finally reaching the roof. The wind battered Jamar and cooled him down, as the blood from his leg pooled yet again upon the tin roof. Deondre soon arrived as well from the hole in the roof carrying Jamar's Brabor, and carefully walked towards Jamar.

"Shit. You okay, J?

Jamar?"

Deondre saw that Jamar was staring up at the sky. After a few moments, he looked too.

"OH FUCK!"

The shanty tower was collapsing, and debris was raining down like hell fire. In addition to this, they were beginning to take fire from enemies trying to escape the cataclysm that was about to take place. Bricks and mortar pelleted the roofs like artillery barrages, blowing holes in metal and man alike. The sun berated Jamar in intense light and heat, blinding him from most of the armageddon around him. Trying to fight the monster of unconsciousness, he would've sworn he heard the droning of a jet...

A VTOL then rocketed out of the side of the shantytower, raining hell down upon Jamar and his allies in the form of broken wall and minigun bullets. In an act of courage, Deondre shoved Jamar into a hole in the floor below them. He jumped in as well, but not after having a piece of rebar lodge itself in his shoulder.

"SHIT! OH, GODDAMN MOTHERF..."

Jamar ignored the cries of Deondre, and focused on the many elite enemies congregating upon them.

"Deon, we have some company..."

As Jamar uttered those words, the elites started to shoot paralyzers at the duo. Deondre dragged Jamar behind cover with his free hand and proceeded to yank out the rebar, cursing all the while. Deondre took Jamar's M56 and sprayed down the hallway, before catching a paralyzer in the hand. Soon after, he slumped over twitching and frothing from the electric shock.

Jamar was prepared to meet his end. As he grabbed his M56, he put the last rounds into the cartridge.

I ain't gonna fuckin' go without taking them with me!

Jamar let out a war cry, and aimed down the hallway. He let the bullets fly into the legs of the elites, making one buckle from the injury. Paralyzers flew all around him, smashing into plaster and brick alike. One had actually attached to the gun itself, sending electricity coursing throughout the gun and electrocuting Jamar in the process. He was not paralyzed, but he was indeed in immense pain.

In the blur of the moment, he peered throughout a hole made in the floor next to him, and saw multiple white-masked soldiers filing through. One in the center was aiming it's gun at Jamar, but then eased it's aim and pointed. The other soldiers noticed too, and proceeded down the hallway.

"WHERE YOU GOING? HELP ME!

Oh God, help me..."

The elites congregated around Jamar, and forcibly grabbed him at the feet. The ones with free hands pointed their guns at Jamar, seemingly snickering behind their masks. It was Jamar's end. They started to move him down the corridor, with the ones with guns secured each room that they passed. When they reached the stairwell, however, the white-masked men greeted them with pointed guns.

An elite's visor cracked and blood exploded from it, as an AP round pierced through it. More and more rounds came flying down the room, and Jamar was dropped onto the ground with an assuring thud. The corpses of the elites started to collect around him, until the last one was mercilessly executed. The white-masked men from before came to rescue him. At last...

They grabbed both Jamar and Deondre, hauling them onto the outside courtyard of the collapsing shantytower. He struggled to look upon the shantycity that stretched for miles below him, and saw a fleet of Talismans escorting multiple Nexus Halifax carriers.

He would survive.

---

"Sit-Rep."

"Yes, sir.

Earlier this morning, hired mercenaries and multiple agents - presumed to be Fr...enkish in origin - attempted to capture and/or end the life of a Jamar DeBrown. He is a Black Leopard Vicelord and informant for the Nexus who recently acquired vital intel about F-...Frenkish industry and manufacturing, especially of drugs and weapons. Local PID operatives in the area soon arrived on scene, and rescued Jamar minutes before the total collapse of Shantytower #2534."

"Very good. However, I do know a hidden mic when I see one. Useless, since they already know what''s happened."

"W-What? Sir-"

"You spent five years in the New Frenco Empire, and you came out changed.

Tell your bi friends we'll have revenge."

A shot pierced the ears of many workers whom congregated around the briefing room.

[The Nexus of Man]

As-Salamu Alaykum
A (Action) - CA (Canonical) - CAL (Caliphate) - CR (Crime) - DA (Dark) - M (Mature) - MC (Mechanocratic) TP (Third Person)
Story Theme Song: The Blacker the Berry - Kendrick Lamar and Used To - Drake (Ft Li'l Wayne)

---

English
Russian

HOOONK. HOOONK. HOOOOOOOOONK.

The huge cargocarrier slowly drifted over Cairo; it's final destination after days of navigating the Atlantic and Congo to avoid Frenkish and European patrols. A huge leopard was painted on to both sides of the ship, signaling that it was of Black Leopard origin. The fertile Nile now stretched beyond the normal borders of long before; now, there was lush jungles just like the times of Ancient Egypt. To add on to this, Cairo was a very important city to the Caliphate; it served as the trading hub of all of the Caliphate's lands.

And what was this cargocarrier delivering?

Military-grade weapons, ammunition, and vehicles. These weapons would bolster the front lines, and effectively make the Caliphate gain new lands.

Normally, the Caliphate would kill anyone who wasn't a devout Muslim; even then, some were killed. Alas, the only reason why the cargo-carrier was not shot down was because the Nexus and the Black Leopards were giving weapons on the grounds of "protecting our religious brethren". Besides, the cargocarrier was carrying some cargo that would more-or-less vaporize most of Cairo, so shooting it down wouldn't be that healthy.

Trevor sat upon a container overlooking the green city of Cairo. It was a beautiful sight; much different than the dirty slums or hot jungles he was accommodated to. He was with many other Black Leopards and normal Nexus workers, siting and chatting on the many containers on the NCF (Nexus Cargo Fleet) White Russian.

"Trevor my big-nig, pass me the binoculars. I needa see if we gonna land where we 'posed to."

"Don't call be big-nig, you little shit. I'm Canadian!"

"Like that exists anymore. Look, Just give me the damn thing."

Trevor handed the talking Leopard his binoculars, and the Leopard trotted away with his boots pounding against the container metal.

There goes my 'noculars. Wonderful!

Trevor grabbed a beer from the case next to him, and popped the cap open. As he started to enjoy it, his ears picked up a sound; a whirring off in the distance. Scratching his head, he finished off the beer and threw it over the edge of the cargo carrier. As Trevor started to get up, the cargocarrier suddenly lurched to the right, sending him tumbling back-first into a container behind him. He hit his back in one of the undulating waves on the container, sending pain literally up his spine. He swore quietly, as distant yelling and curses filled the air. Another lurch sent him left, almost sending him off the edge of the carrier. In a haze of fright, he grabbed the edge of a container, and hauled himself up after the carrier balanced.

What in the living fuck!?

Suddenly, flak fire from Cairo started to burst near the carrier. Explosion after explosion deafened Trevor's ears, and he hid inside an empty container to escape the sound.

Are they shooting us? Shit!

A lurch forward send Trevor tumbling out of the container, and made him hit another container face-first, before dropping down a story into a pile of lazily-strewn wires.

He painfully rose from the pile, and trudged to the edge of the carrier. He thought that it was suicidal, but he needed to see what was going on.

The Caliphate were not shooting at the carrier.

A Russian Tu-245 Kondor rose from below the belly of the cargocarrier. As soon as the Kondor fully floated above the carrier, the flak fire ceased. Trevor felt for his gun - any gun - to fend off what was about to come.

Rapid laser fire from the Kondor decimated any Leopard or worker not in cover; AP rounds shredding those in light cover. The hatches of the Kondor slowly fell open, and plasteel ropes were thrown out of the beast. Multiple Spetsnaz troops slid down the ropes, along with Ka-204 Harpies fluttering out of the hatches. As soon as the Spetsnaz touched down, they started to open fire on anyone that made themselves shown. The Harpies began to fly in each and every corridor made by the containers, gunning down any stragglers found. Frantic to protect himself, Trevor found an astray DD-17 sniper, and instantly grabbed it. He dislodged the scope, and threw it over the edge.

The buzzing of a Harpy was around the corner.

Trevor cocked the sniper, and slid towards the edge of the container corridor. He saw a lone Harpy hovering to and fro in the corridor, and aimed. As soon as he let one round fire, the Harpy saw him. The bullet went straight through the three main optics, effectively exploding the Harpy to bits. A Spetsnaz squad was now about to converge on his position, and Trevor had to escape.

The only thing behind him was a fence protecting him from thousands of feet of nothing, and a tether rope used only for emergencies to escape the first floor to the second, or the second to the first.

Trevor hoisted the sniper in the space between his jacket and shirt, and prayed that it would stay. He grabbed the rope, and slowly went over the edge. With his hands firm on the tether rope, he slowly started to make his way downward. The dangling of the rope went for fifteen feet or so, and then his feet gave way to an open viewspace. His mind thought he was about to fall, so all the blood went to his brain instantly. He thought he was going to faint, but he managed to swing into the second floor.

Upon contact of the floor, his sniper fell over the edge of the viewspace into the sky below.

SHIT!

He grabbed a nearby FUSE assault rifle, and proceeded inside to the interior.

Inside was paranoid orkers and antsy Black Leopards, whom almost shot Trevor upon entry.

"Oh, shit! We almost smoked yo ass! Get in!"

After the Leopard whispered this, Trevor carefully walked inside, with a worker locking the door behind him. The door, of course, was basically a paper-thin wall against the Spetsnaz outside, but one level of protection was much preferred to none.

Trevor joined a squad of Black Leopards to the staircase. They took the stairs all the way to the level below the bridge, with all the levels they passed filled with scared workers and armed guards.

"The bridge has already radioed for an Abaddon Strike on the Kondor, ETA 5 minutes from the Nexus Base in Alexandria. If we don't retake the bridge, that strike can disable all automatic electronics; the only thing keeping us afloat. Let's go."

The captain of the Leopard squad lead them to a small outpost set up right outside of the bridge entrance; guarded by several sacrificial Lucadroids and a platoon of Jaguar operatives (Black Leopard special forces contingent).

"We have a Tulpa ready, sir."

"Open the door, droid."

A lucadroid unlocked the door and opened it slowly, and a soldier hoisted the Tulpa on his shoulder.

"What the fuck is this?"

The Tulpa shot a warhead straight into the bridge; alas, there was no explosion. Inside, multiple sentient grenades shot out of the warhead, and shot straight into the heads of most of the Spetsnaz in the room.

The multiple explosions signaled the battle-droids to charge into the room. At first they were mowed down by the Spetsnaz stragglers that were left, but the charging Black Leopards and Jaguars overwhelmed them. Harpies charged through the bridge glass, shredding the bridge in bullet fire. The battle-droids then began to engage the Harpies, shooting them down one by one. There was even one Spetsnaz that was beheaded by a crashing Harpy, biomass and cyborg parts flew across the room.

Once the bridge was secured, the Abaddon let loose it's payload upon the floating Kondor. The bullets and rockets ripped through the hull, literally cracking the Kondor in two; not before exploding the engine. The engine let out a small electromagnetic pulse, shutting down the automatic systems of the cargocarrier.

"OH SHIIIT!"

As the two parts of the Kondor equally fell beside the cargocarrier into the Nile below, the cargocarrier's engine shut off. Trevor, in the bridge room, instantly began floating before yanking a lever, turning on the manual systems. Another yank turned on the engines, which made the cargocarrier slowly lose it's speed of descent. It finally stopped a few hundred feet ABOVE THE Nile, which was now surging around the faraway broken bits of the fallen Kondor.

Just another day, another dollar for Trevor.

[The Nexus of Man]

Pronouncement of the Activation of PURELIGHT

CAN - CIN - NEX - UW

---

OFFICIAL PROCLAMATION BY THE NEXUS SENATUS, APPROVED BY COMMANDANT VOPH R. GRAEME & COMMANDER OF ARMED FORCES JOSEPH A. MCHAEK
3.7.125, in The Year of Our Lord


The National Senatus of the Nexus of Man, with recorded participation by all Nexus leaders across the bodies of Earth and Luna,
and with supervision by Commandant Voph Rhazien Graeme and Armed Forces Commander & Vice Commandant Joseph Alexander McHaek, hereby and hitherto approve
the Pronouncement of the Activation of PURELIGHT, suggested by leaders of the Nexus Counterbiological Force and Nexus Military Defence Protocol.
Enclosed below are the guidelines, beliefs, and addendum of the Pronouncement of the Activation of PURELIGHT.

----

ACKNOWLEDGING the adverse effects of biological weapons testing on meticulously selected population centers outside of Nexus control,

PROVING the inadequacy of the Nexus Counterbiological Force to properly quarantine and prevent infections from affecting the majority populace,

RECOGNIZING the in-activeness of many special operation task forces currently employed under the Nexus Military Defence Protocol,

IMPLORING the training of human units to survive under WMD-utilization scenarios by possible threats from the Mechanocracy or the New Frenco Empire,

THE NEXUS SENATUS HEREBY

Activates an independent paramilitary force only under authority of the Commandant or Vice Commandant, called the PURELIGHT Strategic Biological Command,

Prohibits further testing of aggregated chemical, radiological, biological, or nuclear testing under supervision of the Nexus Counterbiological Force,

Transfers all experimental testing powers to the PURELIGHT Strategic Biological Command,

Reassigns all currently inactive Nexus Military Defence Protocol special task forces to PURELIGHT Strategic Biological Command,

Mandates all contagion-induced epi/pandemic exterminations and quarantines to be supervised by PURELIGHT officers,

Facilitates the recruitment of exceptionally skilled cadets and enlists by allowing the construction of PURELIGHT recruitment centres,

Maintains the Nexus military creed of "repentation and salvation, not forgiveness and mercy", by allowing PURELIGHT to conduct apathetic cleansing missions,

Gives all normal policing and law department powers to PURELIGHT soldiers in any sector of the Nexus,

Builds a small, but active, fleet of PURELIGHT transport ships, to quickly pinpoint and neutralize contamination sites,

Permits the use of criminals and prisoners of war for experimental testing by PURELIGHT facilities.


Signed by: Voph Rhazien Graeme, Joseph Alexander McHaek, Maksymillian Wlodarczyk, members of the Nexus Senatus

[The Nexus of Man]

---

The Blood of God: The Chalice
[SERIES TAG] (CAN - CIN - NEX - NSFW)

---

The tags above are applicable to this mini-storyline as a whole, not just specific parts.

Electric blue veins of lightning clambered from the blackened heavens towards the ocean, slicing with an ethereal glow past the raindrops in the air, while the mute screams of the wind drummed their stories upon the pristine glass of a white cliff-side manor. The walls were painted a medical white, aided in its monotony with the white glow of overhead lamps and glaring light fixtures. The tiled and carpet floors were laid down to rest in white; the doors and frames were screwed in place while being white; the furniture was placed neatly and polished with white. Everything was bleached and pale, to emphasize any stain and bruise inflicted upon the surfaces of the manor. Slight scents of chemicals made their wafts through the air, taking their short-lived pilgrimage through air vents and propelled by hidden fans.

The "front yard" -- the yard that wasn't the cliff face dropping directly into the ocean, assuring an epinephrine-fueled death -- was situated near an onyx and glossy asphalt road, with the smell of rain and road conglomerating near the aroma of flowers and exotic plants growing along the street sides. A wall, curving in arcs from ornate wall post to ornate wall post, lined the entirety of the yard's half-circle circumference. As with nearly everything else related to the manor, the wall was kept clean to the best of outdoor abilities. Not a single vine stretched its sickening green tendrils on the walls' naked stone surfaces; instead, the tips of grass blades delicately caressed the bottom regions of the walls with collecting dew as a transparent paint.

A convoy of black military-grade vehicles drove into the front of the manor, with the screeching of brakes and tracks echoing into the abyss of the jungle. In the center of the convoy, flanked from the front and back by advanced IFVs, was a top-of-the-line luxury hovercar... white in paint and black in window tint. The rain's cascade was repelled by a deployed magnetic force-field, letting the possible passengers have a dry and comfortable exit from the hover vehicle. When the back door popped open vertically, a lavishly dressed woman slowly rose, carrying a shimmering silver briefcase in her left hand. Escorting her into the manor were two Ichido-class Assassin droids, normally reserved for assassination purposes. However, these specific Ichido droids were more robust in defense and welfare, due to the procurement of additional armor and upgraded guarding software.

One of the Ichido droids released a translucent umbrella from its storage, holding it over the woman to protect her from any further unrelenting rain breaking away from the bonds of the magnetic force-field. As the trio followed the circular-stoned path to the front glass door, the APCs at the front and back sides of the convoy emptied their contents of troops. They assembled at the front side of the manor, with guns strewn across their fronts in a position of readiness. These were no normal soldiers on a guarding mission, either; they were PURELIGHT's best soldiers from around the entire Earth. They were truly the best and most adept guarding task-force possible, for such a mission with a purpose to shake the foundations of Earth and history for the rest of time.

The front frosted-glass door of the manor slid slowly open, as a single ancient peered with its dead optics against the darkened atmosphere of the outside world. As the woman and her guard bots entered the manor, the frosted door slipped such behind, before a white metallic blast door sheathed the door of glass from further rain embitterment and battering. The whitened oak beneath the woman and her entourage swallowed the water that was left after each step, as the soft glow of the hallway's sidelights illuminated innumerable channels and paths on the popcorned ceiling. Exotic plants blossomed and bloomed in eternal fertility amongst their pots, with their leaves unfurled and flowers widened. The group reached the last door in the hallway, and it opened in automatic function. A pitch black void awaited before them, and as such, they entered with a tense posture.

The trio's entrance was marked by the door sliding shut behind them, and a long neon light-strip blazing into life above them. The room was like an office, with the exception of no dark surfaces or furniture. Two lamps stood solemn and tall in each corner of the room, spreading equivalent amounts of light. Distant rumbles of thunder echoed from within the metal walls, creating small vibrations that crept upon the ceiling and floor. Two loveseats, both at opposite angles, were positioned in front of a pale and wooden desk, with an unnerving and exotic geometric statue standing on the right. And, of course, there was the man sitting in the oh-so-soft leather chair behind it, wearing an all-white suit and oddly frosted glasses.

"Séraphine, the almighty Matriarch of the Nexus Intelligence Cooperative... the simultaneous rapist of exotic men and proprietor of Holy Dominion. Is that right?"

The man cracked his mouth open in a slight laugh, with his abnormally-perfect teeth shining amongst the neon light. Both of his hands -- and his entire lower body -- were hidden behind the wooden desk. Séraphine only assumed that he was already hiding the object of integral value.

"I am not here for petty jokes, Samael. You said that the location of the Chalice will be given to those who gift you an item..."

"...of equal value. Well, my dear Seraph, it is hard to get an item that is as value and the bearer of the blood... even more so when exchanging with me, for I have no use for objects of lowly men."

"You act as if you are above mankind, because you possess the blood that only a few have."

"And when you have all biological needs fulfilled with the same organism that kills millions, I now need only one thing. And you have it."

Séraphine placed the steel briefcase upon the wooden table, and rotating the front towards the man in white. When that was done, she tossed the lone golden key onto the top of the briefcase, echoing the metallic clang with the sadistic whips of the Earth from lightning.

The man grasped the key in his right palm, and aided the key into the keyhole with an inhuman pleasure. As the case clicked open, an ecstatic giggle escaped his lips. The contents of this briefcase is what he was searching for... for decades. Definitively for a century or longer, after he began to know of its existence.

"Divinum morbo... the Plague of the Divine."

"I have completed my part of the promise; it is your turn. Preferably before you start to commit suicide."

"Oh, just shut up already!"

The man yanked a drawer open from his side of the desk before grabbing its contents. He placed an ancient tome, sealed in a jet black plastic bag, next to the briefcase.

"This paper details the extensive study for finding the Chalice. I don't know why you would still vie to find it... probably disintegrated from nuclear holocaust and fallout..."

"That is our problem, Samael, not yours."

"It will be ALL of our problems, dead or alive, in the future. I do not know why you seek it so much-"

"Can you imagine the international attention that the Chalice will get?"

" 'International attention'? The only Christians in the world are us, the other Nexuses, the Frenkish dissidents getting slaughtered, and tribals that confuse Jesus for Mohammed in African jungles. We will amass no one to our cause."

"The power of the Chalice is what will make the Nexus unstoppable."

"I thought you were a woman of science, Séraphine! Do you really think, that after two thousand years, the Chalice will have any fucking connection to Him anymore? What, are you going to spawn the Antichrist from his saliva?"

"Rhazien says otherwise."

"Rhazien is a pretender; a hack! He has promised us Christian Dominion over the entire Earth, and all he has done was assimilate a bunch of fucking stoners! And yet you take his word as fact!?"

Séraphine handed the black bag to one of her guarding droids, which proceeded to exit the room; leaving only Séraphine herself, the other guarding droid, and Samael.

"I have faith that he will start a Global Crusade against all. And with the Chalice, we will be unstoppable.

Do you have faith in the Nexus? Or do you have faith in a dead world, with those who were too cowardly to defend the Word and the Blood?"

Samael now sat silent, gripping the vial of white tightly in his hand. Another shudder of thunder shook the manor, making the lights slightly flicker and change intensity.

"The Nexus is all that has given me life once again. But you know that I want to only die, not be a pawn in this massive shitfest!"

"What would Khamael say?"

The pair stayed silent for some time, with the backdrop of the fierce storm being the only thing that did not make the situation entirely uncomfortable.

"He would say... to vanguard the truthful... and slay the wicked."

"...And I found him. For you."

Samael shot up in shock, letting the white vial fall into the white carpeted floor under him.

"Khamael was incinerated by the fucking Russians. You are lying, you shit-spewing whore! You fucking-"

"He regenerated... although not entirely. We had to take Russian augmentation tactics to replace the body parts that Voidpurge could not."

"Who attempted to kill my brother? Who!?"

"We are getting off-task... the Chalice..."

"Fuck you! I said, who killed Khamael?"

"You''ll find out exactly who they are, when you meet Khamael in Jerusalem... I hope that we can also acquire the Chalice in the same time-frame.

Now, if you keep on being inhospitable, I don't think the mission can be possible..."

"Whatever. I just hope it gives me the power to kill whatever fuck did that to my brother. Should the others join us?"

"All of the Elyiarum? I think that could suffice. Now, give me the vial back. I can use it for other... purposes."

---

[The Nexus of Man]

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The Necteric Oath
(CAN - CIN - DI - NEX - NSFW)

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Very ambiguous prologue. You'll see what prologue it is "of" eventually.

"I swear by the Lord of Hosts, by the Spirit of the Heavens, and the Son of Man; making the God my witness, that I will carry out the divine mission, according to my scientific ability and spiritual motivation, this holy oath and this proclamation to the sciences of revolution."

A man, donning a bleach-white overcoat and matching pants, raised his right gloved hand in the air, while placing his other protected hand on a white, untitled, bound book. The book was held by a jet-black and armored soldier, with a world-wide renown and feared gas mask hoisted over its face. The rhythmic compression and decompression of the mask's air echoed every sentence that was uttered. Surrounding the two figures was an entire congregation of stone-faced individuals; half of them divided into like-minded scientists and researchers in plush leather seats, while the other half were fellow dark accomplices of the trooper, standing in their own region without any surface to sit upon.

"To hold my mentors in this art, and recognizing their values to be equal to my own parents and blood; to make them my partners in exploration within my life; when they are in need of dire service to divulge as did our God to the sinners; to consider their families as my own blood and siblings, and to teach them this very art and sculpting of life, if they so desire, without any monetary fee or negative reciprocation; to communicate nominal behavior, spread verbal instruction, and all other steps of this art to my own descendants, the descendants of my mentors, and to the underlying students who have taken the Purelight oath, but to nobody else outside of our Nexus nation."

The pair pivoted in unison towards a set of black-tinted glass doors, with the soldier stowing away the white and untitled book in its pouch. They marched towards the glass doors, and stop in front of their own door, as the two audience groups filed inside their own doors; leading to chambers of unknown observation. A lone klaxon screamed its agonizing tune, and the glass doors slowly swiveled open in obedience. The air still left hints of chilling and ominous vibrations.

"I will use modification to aid the state and the religion, according to my most astounding abilities and moral judgment, but never with an ending goal to become treasonous and injure the state. I will not give mercy to any subject when pleading to do so, nor will I suggest a course of mercy and tranquility, for they smacked the mercy of God away from their blackened hearts. Similarly, I will not give in to a female subject's pleading for mutant abortion. Alas, I will and shall keep pure and holy both my own personal life and my divine art. I will use the knife and chisel; the scalpel and syringe, to draw the perfect conception and contraptions of organisms."

As the glass doors settled into their new stature, the pair marched into a hallway lined with interrogational glass; at the end was a monolithic and pulsating metal door, shimmering from the overhead and dying fluorescent lights. The clicking of luxurious shoes and the thumping of soldiers' boots could be heard, emanating from either side of the hallway in their own unique directions and ambiences. Above the door was an engraved letter "N", with an IX monogram () etched into the cement underneath. They both finally stopped before the door, and the soldier procured another item from his pouch. This time, it was a lone vial, consuming all light with its opaque crimson color. The white-robed man took the vial in his left hand.

"Into whatever task I am subjected to, I will volunteer to aid the state's pleas, and I will forever and wholly abstain from all deliberate incident and foul play, particularly from abusing and defiling the organic intricacies that God has graced the Universe. And for whatever I shall see or hear witness to in the many experiments I complete, as well as in the personal life that I live, if it is information that can damage the state and the religion, I will never break to the enemy, and God will keep me forever quiet from any attempts to garner evidence."

The door slid vertically open with a grinding and painful screech, as the metal of the hoisted door clashed with the aging rock of the concrete frame and sheath. A tar-black space awaited them, as if the culmination of the Universe's existence perished before them. Suddenly, a heavenly light pierced their eyes, shining from a levitating and brilliantly-white octohedron. The walls of this room were diamond-plated steel, and a band of dark observation glass surrounded the entire circumference of the region.

In the center of the room was an entire operating set, laid before a slab of polished granite. Tools of all types and functions were laid out in a neat order, sterilized and decontaminated to the utmost recognition. A plastic cube surrounded the operating area, with an airlock hallway sealing the area from the granite room. The robed man and the soldier approached the airlock, and stopped before the transparent Plexiglass container that waited.

The soldier once again slid something from his pouch; this time, it was a scanning card. It inserted the card into a scanner, which beeped in a satisfactory tone. A small numberpad was revealed from an open-sliding steel cover, and a series of digits were punched in rapid succession. Another beep resonated from the collection of accession items, and an eye scanner slid open from its camera cover. The white-clothed man took off his glasses and peered into the bright green light, before the camera snapped shut in capture.

The airlock door caved in once all protocols were practiced successfully. The soldier stayed behind, unholstering and activating his compact plasma-thrower from his bulging backpack, before pointing the yellowing flame at the other man. The second door, nothing more than a secure pane of plexiglass, slid open up, as the man entered the operation area.

"If I now carry out this oath in its fullest, and and never break the holistic promise that now binds me, may I be rewarded a seat in the Heaven above and a spot in the minds of the people; however, if I were to betray the oath and commit treason against the state and the religion I follow, may I be revoked the glory of God's presence, and to be cast into the lakes of Hell's inferno for all of eternity."

A lone girl, no more than sixteen years of age, laid nude and unconscious upon the cold granite slab. Her complexion was almost deathly pale, with a starkly-contrasting and flowing black river of hair being firmly held by a clamp drilled into the granite. As much the man could see, the slab was very detailed in design; four deep and separate channels lined the rectangular edges of the slab, seemingly for catching any spilled blood, as remnants of the red fluid could be seen blackening in certain corners. The slab itself hummed with power and energy, as carved runic inscriptions opened the interior of the granite to reveal a flurry of vibrating pipes, wires, and tubes. He then assumed that many of these tubes are directly connected to the girl, most likely through her back and spine.

He prayed that this girl was completely blank to all exterior and interior pain; the evolution was hypothesized to affect even the mental existence of subjects. This was the first -- and hopefully, successful -- attempt to execute such a revolutionizing task.

The first thing that the man did was place the vial on the surgical tray, right next to a gigantic and thin needle, with a large and gaping barrel-space. As he lifted and weighed the needle in his hands for a few seconds, he took the vial and slid it into place within the needle's barrel-space. It clicked perfectly, and tempted the man to complete the task at hand.

The yellowish light of the soldier's plasma thrower could be seen, even shimmering on the dark crimson of the vial. That thing was ready for anything; if he attempted to escape from his task, or if the task itself... faltered. No such situations could happen, for this all put his life on the line.

As he prepared for the injection of the unknown material from the vial, he heard his last pre-recorded words echoing from the broadcasting loudspeakers in the building.

"And if I damn this world for any peril I undertake, I shall be forever damned for the rest of the history, of the Universe's existence, of humanity's history, and of God's reign upon all... Amen."

He read the first and only instruction left on a clean, white, six-by-eight note, centered and typed in a startlingly barren font:

"Marry her skin to steel."

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