III. Trinity

It had been a strange three days for Lucian Briggs.

He'd been staying with Ross Gibson at the Seraphim Lodge, a hotel on the outskirts of New Liberty. He'd only gone back to his apartment once, to find it ransacked. Most of it was broken, rather than stolen, implying that a chot raid had done the place in, not a robbery. He'd checked his mail, and found that he'd been stricken from the roster at his job and was assumed dead; the letter was a mere formality on the off chance he'd survived.

But mostly, Lucian had been thinking. Gibson was building an insurrection, and wanted Lucian onboard.

His mother had spent her life fighting Rehnquist's regime. His father had lost his doing the same. Lucian had long ago decided it wasn't a fight he wanted to continue.

Recently, things had changed. He's lost his home and job, that much was certain. According to Gibson, Lucian's two best friends had been killed in the raid that nearly claimed his life. He hadn't lost everything, but had come damn close. In short, nothing was as it had been.

Gibson himself was an oddity to Lucian. Gibson had told Lucian he was twenty-nine years old--three years older than Lucian--yet he claimed to know Lucian's father, Darius. Darius Briggs had been tortured to death twenty-one years before, yet Gibson spoke of him like they'd seen each other in the past week.

The most unnerving thing about Gibson was that he heard voices. More specifically, one voice. He claimed that that one voice was the Metatron, the Voice of God. Lucian would've dismissed him as a lunatic, if it weren't for that fact that Gibson was always right. Lucian had been testing Gibson's prophecy almost constantly, and had yet to defeat him. The most convincing test, in Lucian's mind, was when Lucian flipped a coin fifty times in a row, and Gibson called it correctly in the air with his eyes closed each time.

Lucian hadn't ever really believed in God. His father had been brought up in a very religious household and had ultimately rejected his faith. His mother had had other concerns; between the two, religion had never had a serious presence in Lucian's life. But to hear the way Gibson spoke about talking directly to God, being His voice on Earth...it made Lucian wonder.

After the most recent events, Lucian was losing his faith in humanity. Faith in God only seemed natural.

Gibson came into the room.

"You've decided." he said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes, I have." said Lucian. "I'm going to join up with you."

"I knew it." said Gibson. Lucian didn't doubt that he had. "Oh, and by the way, I have someone I want you to meet. He's the head of a local insurrection cell, and he's waiting for us in the lobby."

The two men locked up the room and went to the hotel lobby. There was a thirty-ish man waiting for them. He had long, white-blonde hair down to his shoulderblades, pale skin, and blue eyes as deep as oceans. He wore a long, leather coat. There was something about him, in the way he spoke and carried himself, that hinted at something else; something deep. Lucian could just barely feel it; this man had some sort of hidden potential.

"Greetings." he said. His voice was soft and genial. He seemed to exude friendliness. "My name is Robert Keyes. Mr. Gibson has told me about you."

"Nice to meet you." said Lucian. "I'm Lucian Briggs." Keyes nodded and shook Lucian's outstretched hand.

"I'd like to speak to you away from...prying ears." said Keyes. "Perhaps you'd care to converse at my suite?"

Gibson shook his head. "Knock it off, Keyes. The eccentric millionaire routine may work on my friend, here, but I know better."

Keyes laughed. "You know me too well, already, Ross. But seriously, we should talk, tell Lucian here how many pies across town I--excuse me, we--have fingers in."

The trio went back to Gibson's room to discuss matters of state, and how to disrupt them.