Chapter 18 Oblivion #5
The feelings left as quickly as they came—replaced by nothing.
Kit shook his head softly, then returned to his spot by the others.
Below, in the underground lab in Nova Zone 21, a collection of men and women screamed and cried behind bars. Guards kept them back with poles infused with electricity, zapping any who got too close to the edge.
One man stood up, blue tendrils of light crackling at his fingertips.
An Aetherborn.
Kit tensed, seeing red.
He must eradicate Aetherborns. They were deadly.
The Aetherborn yelled, tendons in his neck straining as he lifted his palms and sent a wash of blue Stella right at the bars.
Sabine met Kit’s eye, a command there. "You know what to do."
Kit did not even move from his spot. His fingers twitched, and the very air in the Aetherborn’s lungs was sucked away.
The man dropped in a heap to the ground, seizing, clawing at his chest for air, while the Stella slammed against the bars of the cage, then fizzled to nothing with the invisible force field.
"Extra precautions," Talor said. "The force field keeps the ones who try to attack away from the rest."
"Our weapon. Project Phoenix." Sabine gestured to Kit, who stared down the thrashing Aetherborn as he used his Stella to suck the air from the area around the Aetherborn, incapacitating him.
The surrounding guards were used to Kit’s lethality—but not the newcomers. They clapped. As if Kit were something to be approved.
A distant part of him wondered if they’d like an encore.
He bared his teeth at them.
The sound tapered off.
The two-way mirror tinted everything in a dark haze, but that didn’t stop Kit from staring at the thrashing girl held captive in a chair on the other side.
Her eyes were wide and wild, and her white hair was tangled around her face, soft waves falling from a bun at the back of her head.
His dark uniform covered him from his neck to his ankles, gloves over his hands to keep his prosthetic hidden.
His thick boots thudded against the dark floors as he inched closer to the door leading into the room. He needed to go to her. Desperately.
"Hello!" she called, and his heart rate picked up.
The doctors would interrogate him about that later—his vitals were constantly monitored. Anything out of the ordinary, they inspected unceasingly in his sessions, until whatever had caused such a reaction was kicked out of his brain with a cocktail of drugs and electroshock therapy.
"Don’t hide like a coward." Her grey eyes pierced right through his, as if the mirror weren’t even there. "Come out and speak to me!"
Before he realized it, his feet were already carrying him to the door.
The small chip implanted in his eye read off his orders. The words were typed and stilted, imprinted over the sight of the door as he pushed it open.
Go into the room.
Kit watched as her eyes widened, staring at his boots and tracking up to his face.
He knew her, but he didn’t care.
Talk to her.
"Hello, Vesperin," Kit said.
Vesperin. That was right. That was her name. It echoed through his empty mind like marbles rolling on tile.
Her entire body trembled and shook like a leaf. Kit cocked his head. Was she cold? Was she scared?
He hadn’t felt fear in so long—he forgot the way it made a body submit to its whims.
"Kit?"
She said his name with thick emotion, clouding her tone. So curious. So strange.
She pleaded with him, begged him.
The chip honed in on her body, displaying her body temperature, heart rate, and Stella.
Aetherborn.
Had he already known that?
Her sobs and cries came in and out of focus as he stared at his orders. Everything blurred as he read the words.
Electroshock therapy. Initiate high-voltage pulse. Now.
The words fizzled away. He focused back on her. The table beside the chair had the necessary equipment for his orders.
"You should not be here," he said. The words bubbled up, unbidden. Why did he believe that? He tried to focus on the feelings, but they drifted away—a tide going out.
She flinched away. "What do you mean? Why are you here, Kit? What happened to you? I thought you were dead. We had a funeral…" she sobbed.
"I do not know what you are talking about." A part of him did, though. Flashes of agony, gleaming steel, and tracing letters against his thigh to keep sane.
He reached for the shock equipment. The arm of his prosthetic grazed her cheek. He didn’t feel it. He looked down.
"Where have you been?" Her breath puffed against the fabric of his suit.
He didn’t feel it.
Kit pulled away from her sharply. "Stop talking."
"Are you in trouble? Is that what this is? I know about your parents. Have they done this to you? Have they hurt you?"
His heart rate spiked at her words.
Make her stop talking, the orders read.
Kit snapped, reaching for her neck. The unyielding fingers of his prosthetic squeezed. Tighter.
She groaned, lids fluttering.
He let up—slightly—then leaned down over her, his eyes flicking between hers. The shade was so unnatural. Grey. Everything about her was grey.
Her lips struggled to form words. Her mouth was pretty.
Her lips looked so unbearably soft.
Let her go.
He let her go.
His eyes dropped to his hand around her throat—a warning. He wondered what her skin would feel like.
Her accusations echoed in his mind as her breath came ragged.
"Nothing was done to me." Kit’s brow furrowed. "I was nowhere."
"I grieved you. We all did. I thought—" Her voice broke.
Administer the shocks.
He bent to pick up the wires he’d dropped.
"You should not have grieved me, Vesperin." Kit didn’t like anything, but if he could, he’d like the feel of her name rolling off his tongue. Hair had fallen into her face, obscuring her eyes. He wanted to see her eyes. He brushed the hair away. "I am ungrievable. I am your nightmare."
Please, he wanted to tell her, run from me. Save me from myself. Get away from me before I hurt you.
The thoughts fizzled away until all he knew was her face, her pleas, and the orders he was given.
She kept begging him to understand, but her words fell on his unhearing ears.
Her words barely made sense to him. He was nothing. He was no one.
And he would never answer to anyone but those who’d made him who he was.
This unfeeling monster.
One more round. Increase the voltage.
She had long since passed out, but Kit had not been allowed to stop. He did as he was told—nothing more and nothing less.
He increased the dial, then triggered the pulses. Her prone body jerked against her bindings, bare chest exposed. It was indecent.
He swallowed thickly and looked away. He felt like he needed to throw up.
His thumb hovered over the button.
Stop, the order came through, imprinted over the vision of her passed-out form.
Kit released a breath, carefully moving his fingers away from the dials and buttons.
As the electricity sizzled away, she stilled, shoulders jumping every so often with aftershocks.
He eyed her curiously. No more orders came through. He walked closer to her, gaze dipping to her chest. He hadn’t noticed before, but something sparkling and silver was tangled around her neck. He lifted it to the light, knuckles brushing her skin, yet feeling nothing.
A dog tag, the edges slightly bent and worn.
Memories consumed him.
Pain lanced through Kit’s mind. Memories of the blast, the jerking bodies of the Hunters as they’d been shot between their eyes with lethal aim. The mangled remains of his arm.
The fingers of his prosthetic curled around the dog tag.
He knew he had felt horror at one point, but couldn’t quite muster anything else.
Kit focused on her.
Her face was pained even in sleep.
He felt numb to everything except—
Vesperin.
She pierced the numbness with something strange and heavy.
To her sleeping body, he whispered. "I feel the strange inclination to ask for your forgiveness. What is this feeling? What have you done to me?"
The words were consumed by the cold quiet of the room, echoed by her breathing.
Leave.
Kit let the dog tag go; it fell back to her chest. He let himself take one more breath of her. She smelled like cherries and home.
He left without a backward glance, reporting to the doctors.
They had been monitoring her vitals as Kit carried out the electroshock therapy. Kit stood silently by the monitors, staring at the vitals flashing on the screen, his hands folded in front of him.
Sabine and Talor were not here.
His feet grew numb from standing, but he wasn’t allowed to sit.
Finally, Kit was told to return, and as he stalked back into the dark room, his left hand shook faintly, as if in anticipation of seeing her again.
Only—
The chair was empty.
Vesperin was gone.
The one thing that had made him feel something again had disappeared.
Kit’s hands clenched. He needed to do… something.
Find her.
Hunt her down.
Atlas stared into the dark abyss of deep space.
It was time.
The Celestial thought, and so, a planet was formed.
As if he were a conductor leading a symphony, he raised his shadowed hands and created mountains, swept them out and softened them into valleys, brought them down and formed craters to fill with water, raised them again, and seas were created.
Trees grew, their roots sinking deep into the dirt. Birds formed from nothing, wings spanning out as they flew in the newly born skies. The moons hung as a trinity, each varying in size.
The sky blushed pink and purple with dawn, speckled with white clouds.
Atlas stood amid it all, feeling the ripple of a pleasantly warm breeze on his face, the scents of blooming flowers and life, untainted by pollution.
A small butterfly flitted in the air before him. Its wings were marbled with grey and black. The Celestial raised a hand, and its wings turned baby blue. The tiny creature perched on the tip of his finger.
"Polis," Atlas said. "I will name this place Polis."
And so Polis it became.
He turned to the valley before him. The sea stretched far in the distance. Tall, snow-dusted mountains rose further behind him.
This would be a perfect spot.
He willed it; structures rose into being.
A castle, white spires reaching high into the sky, so tall the tips were obscured by the clouds. Magnificent arched windows, stained glass in delicate pink and blue, cast rainbow shadows on the meadow outside.
It was missing something.
Steps, laden with gold, appeared, a pathway snaking up to the grand entrance.
"Perfect," Atlas said.
He closed his eyes, imagining Vesperin here, running up the golden path, brown hair blowing behind her. A single tear fell from his eyes. He could almost hear the sound of her laughter in the breeze.
But when he opened his eyes, he was alone—the only being on the planet. Soon, she would be here.
Atlas had much to tell Vesperin, but most of all, he wanted to whisper, Hold on. Endure.
Grand things awaited her. If only she knew, she would walk toward her fate on Earth with a smile.
He could not wait to bring her home.
To be continued…