[Featured on WATTPAD PICKS]
The last thing you'd imagine Earth's General having is an identity crisis, let alone in the middle of an interstellar war, but for General Avalyn Concerto she begs to differ.
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Ava and Marc arrived at the Command Center in a matter of seconds. Bright lights reflected off the duplicate doors, lining up and down the corridor. It forced Ava's eyes to re-adjust to this maze-like design. Some architects thought it would be a good preventative measure in case Primordial infiltrated the building during a ground attack.
Not a very useful one as the Prims could easily blow the building to smithereens.
Marc inputted the passcode. Few people were scouring the area, which meant all their attention was on the public parts of this building. Maybe they were having a last-minute celebration. Ava wouldn't put it past the Council when they should be concentrating on the war.
The Council seemed to forget the abilities they had today originated from Primordial's own DNA. How Earth's scientists could only extract the lesser abilities from the Prim's ground troops and not the upper class of their world since they didn't enter the battlefield. At least they obtained immortality. The only reason the Council sat on their high horses, thinking they'd never die.
But even immortals could die. They were just harder to kill.
Heavy deadbolts unlocked one at a time, gliding out of their sockets without a sound as their tail ends swirled back into place. The door slid into the wall, replacing the silence of the hallway with the loud chorus of chatter and movements.
Everyone bustled about, shifting from one monitor to the next. Reports were being typed on their tablets, while giant screens displayed the remaining ten City Bases and communicators for those stationed in space. Their glass edges touched each other, making the room come together in a tight-knit quarter.
In the back of the hexagonal room sat a round desk, completely swept clean with only a tablet resting on the oak slate. Painted on by hand, the Earth stretched across the front with the words, The United Federation of Earth, circling it.
Gregori sat back in his black leather chair fit for the Chief Commander, gloved hands twined together in contemplation. His salt and pepper hair blended with the background, his dark uniform hid him in the shadows and the dimmed lighting above.
He was the closest Ava had to a father figure. Caterina, Ava and Gio's mom, only filled so many roles, and the places she couldn't, Gregori stepped in. At a young age, he trained Ava, taught her how to use a sword and how to kill. Most said she was lucky to have him in her life, others pitied her because sometimes he could be a heartless man.
As she approached, Gregori stood from the desk and grinned. Aged wrinkles formed around his face from the melancholy eyes to the corners of his scarred top lip. Ava forgot how old he was sometimes, especially when he smiled. He always had this youthful facade of a silver fox nearing his fifties.
"It seems like every time we meet lately, you're always getting into trouble with the Council," he said, having that savory whiskey feel to it.
Placing both hands on her hips, Ava tried appearing confident. "I get in trouble just for leaving the city. Being the General, I shouldn't have this limitation set on me."
