Inquisitoriam

Shaking. Loren was still holding the Faochite corpse, quaking in fear, anger, sorrow, confusion. The police did their best to keep the crowds back but someone still made it through. A hand reached around Loren, wrapping them in a hug and pulled them away from the corpse. Loren dare not let go.
“Ren, come on, we’ve got to go.” They whispered into his ear.
Loren remained silent. He just shook his head. Crait put their wrist to their mouth and said something but the sounds of the memory started to blur together. Lore looked around, trying to focus on anything they could but found it impossible.
“This is how I remember it.” The New Hologram appeared. “The Faochite died in my arms and… I shut down. All those years of training, all of that conditioning, none of it meant anything in the face of something so… new… choosing to end its existence.” It shook it’s head. “Crait called for an exfiltration team to get us out of there. I passed out as soon as I boarded. I don’t remember anything for a day or so after.” The protest became a meeting room in The Temporal Science’s Guildhall. A man Lore somehow recognised as the Guildmaster stood before them.
“What happened out there?” His voice was calm and quiet but it spoke volumes. There was more than a tinge of disappointment in his tone. “You were there to find and eliminate any threats now we have thirty five confirmed dead and mass hysteria on the streets. They saw it transform.”
“I don’t know sir.” The words left Loren’s mouth but they played almost no part in them doing so. He was running on auto-pilot. “Whatever it was, it knew what it was doing, as if it had been told.”
“That’s not good enough. You are supposed to be the best of the best; and a secret no less, now people are questioning The Guild. They think we did this…” A knock at the door interrupted him. “Yes, come in.”
“Sir, there’s a letter for you and these boxes are for Loren and Crait sir.” The Guildmaster’s secretary struggled through the door with two, shoebox sized containers and a letter.
“Is this really the time?” The Guildmaster tried to protest only for his assistant to thrust the letter in his face again.
He scanned the note inside. “Oh.”
“Sir?” Crait spoke up.
“The Faochite Incident should have triggered the release of these containers and this letter. If you are reading this, please ensure that Crait and Loren are present before opening the two containers found with this letter. They have been buried for a long time but they shouldn’t have aged too poorly.” The Guildmaster paused. “Congratulations on being the last Guildmaster of The Temporal Sciences Guild; may your retirement be fruitful and enjoyable…” He paused. “Is this some kind of joke?”
Crait looked up from their box. Inside was a letter, a series of design schematics, and a small, cylindrical device. “Crait. This case is part of the Faochite incident protocol. When this activates, it is imperative that you follow the instructions below to the best of your abilities.” Crait read aloud, scanning the remaining portions of the document. “What’s in yours Ren?”
Loren slowly lifted the lid on their box. Inside, a similar sized stack of papers, a bootstrap, a few data storage cards, a Memdex and another cylindrical device. As if by instinct, he took the Memdex and pressed it against his temple. A view of the future was streamed into his consciousness. “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” Loren paused. “But before you do, transfer control of The Guild to me and Crait.”
“And why would I do that?” He scoffed. Loren moved across the table as if they had used a Slider. He pressed the Memdex to The Guildmaster’s temple. The colour drained from The Guildmaster’s face, his hand shook as he made the necessary preparations to transfer The Guild over.

His office faded from view. It was replaced with a sizeable chamber; A long and thin, rectangular room with green leather chairs flanking each side. At one end, there was a throne of sorts, the other, a door. The room started to fill. Politicians and leaders from the various guilds entered the room and took their pre-allocated seats. They talked amongst themselves before being silenced by a frighteningly bright, white flash. Where an empty table had once been, it now sported a pair of young people, in their mid twenties. Loren bounced from the table to the floor with Crait following suit. They were both dressed head to toe in body armour of black and red; there was an air of confidence about them that Lore hadn’t seen prior. They waited for the shock to wear off before they started.
“We stand here today, to offer assistance to The Protectorate. From the Temporal Sciences Guild to you all.” Loren began. Their sentences were seemingly punctuated with the jeering laughter of both sides of the political spectrum. “You laugh at us now but we possess the technology to ensure that this sort of incident never happens again. We possess the technology to stop any more attacks before they happen.” He had their attention. “We come before you today in surprise to ask for an emergency reclassification of The Temporal Science’s Guild.” The jeering became shocked muttering. “We have the technology and the skill to prevent this from happening again, we just ask you grant our leadership the power to use it. Evidence is being forwarded to you now…” Loren continued for what felt like forever; one of the most nerve wracking experiences Lore could remember. A vote was held and the powers given to them but only barely. Loren and Crait acknowledged the ruling before silently returning to their Guildhall.
A nearby computer started to display notifications, each carrying a different piece of legislation that would limit them and their Guild. “Things are continuing to go to plan.” Loren held up their letter to compare it to the email they had just received. “Time to prove ourselves once again.” They smiled. “They want to give us the choice of venue.” Both of them found that humorous. Wargames.