Hierarchy
There are very few Remnants operating in the New American continent whose identities remain unknown. Of those, only four of them are capable of bringing down the world around them. Only one refused the Reliquary when asked. The other three have never spoken directly to authorities.
Percy’s look of pure anguish hits me like a tidal wave as I close the office door behind me. She stands slowly; amber eyes trained on mine.
She rounds the desk and throws her arms around me.
I freeze, feeling her bionic arm grip tightly against my back as her head comes to rest at my neck. The scent of her citrus shampoo fills my senses, and, for a moment, I almost lean into the embrace.
“When the fuck were you going to call and tell me you were okay?” she hisses, pulling back finally. She doesn’t look angry, per se.
Annoyed? Worried?
“Shit,” I groan, leaning back against the closed office door.
“Shit is right,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. I can’t help but watch the movement and curse the way my brain misfires. Even pissed she’s gorgeous. “You weren’t going to call, were you?”
“I—” I didn’t want to bother you? I didn’t want to worry you? I didn’t think you'd care? “I’m fine.”
“The damned report came across my desk this morning. Suffice to say I almost had a coronary reading it. You said you were going home.”
“I did,” I say, picking at my braid. “Eventually.”
“Eventually?”
“I went to the coffee shop. I wanted to see if they had anything with the symbol. After discovering they didn’t, the barista told me someone was outside waiting for me.”
“And?” Percy’s eyes glow with the type of anger I’ve only really seen in the worst of cases.
“And I went out to see what he wanted. The guy put a gun to my gut and told me to—” I try to remember if I told Alice anything different. “Told me to give him all I had.”
“Who was he?” Percy’s voice is almost a growl.
“Called himself Triggerman.” I shrug.
“When did the Dark One show up?” She asks, her voice thick with obvious disapproval.
“Sometime after that,” I say slowly.
Percy’s jaw ticks as she runs her hands through her hair, ruining her bun.
“Look,” she sighs out, “I’m glad you’re safe. But the Dark One is dangerous. They’re a killer and a monster.”
I frown at her, confused by the sudden pivot in the conversation.
“I wouldn’t know,” I say softly.
“They don’t help people with their powers like you do.”
In other words, I’m one of the good ones—a token Remnant. Different enough to matter, but not threatening enough to put down.
My heart thuds painfully at the realization. The thing I’d known but hoped she’d surprise me. That no matter how “good” I am for this department, her career, or for humanity’s sake in general, I’ll never be good enough to exist openly.
It just sucks that she’d never expressed it until now.
Rage and fear coalesce in my chest, and I only just manage to stem the flow of angry tears.
I meet her eyes again. Eyes I’ve so desperately wanted to see me as anything but a colleague or friend. To see me.
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” she says finally, her tone dropping the harshness it had held a moment ago.
I nod, hoping the conversation will get dropped here–because there’s no way she’ll ever see me like that.
“I’ll go ahead and start looking into the Remnants that might have been a threat to Mara,” I say, changing the subject entirely.
“You met one of them last night,” she mutters, returning to her desk. I shoot her a weak smile before leaving the office to find a free desk in the bullpen.
A threat, yes. But a killer? Very rarely has it ever come to that. Though clearly her mind is already set on my guilt. And maybe she’s right.
What authority do I have to play judge, jury, and executioner?
The computer blinks on to the home screen for the NCPD. I rub a hand down my face as I feel a headache begin behind my eyes. The database loads quickly, displaying the barebones search bar and RISE logo.
I shoot a quick glance up at Percy who looks engrossed in whatever’s on her screen. She looks tired. And, selfishly, part of me hopes her fears over my wellbeing kept her up. She doesn’t meet my eye, though, so I look back down at the display.
RISE Top Ten
The page title is melodramatic, the entire thing reeking of showmanship. But the information is valuable all the same. And, as always, the list itself is a slap in the face.
The rankings are relatively subjective. Tier one are those whose powers are solely for utilitarian purposes. Tiers two and three are Remnants that, if provoked, can bring down buildings in their fights. Tier threes are sometimes enough of an issue they're upgraded to the fourth tier.
Tier fives though, are the ones that bring down governments. They’re the ones who bend the world to them. The ones so inhuman that their very existence is a threat. Monsters. Unholy abominations.
The list populates quickly and I let out a sharp exhale at the top three names. Every time I see it, I wonder just how much longer I can get away with the lies. How much longer I can pretend to have a chance.
My eyes flit back to Percy before returning to the screen.
1: Darkrend
Identity: Unknown. Powers: Tier 5, Unknown Affliction. Last Seen: October 1030 A.D., New Chicago.
Description: Six foot six, 300 pounds. Outfit generally a suit of armor resembling a medieval knight.
Notes: Little is known about Darkrend despite being the oldest known Remnant. His powers appear to be related to Affliction itself, as eye-witness reports depict him bending aspects of reality to his whim.
At the bottom of the page, beneath the sparse reports from those who had the misfortune of running across him, is the section that appears just for law enforcement.
The section I hardly ever have a reason to look at since most Homicide crimes involve low-tier Remnants.
NCPD Instructions: Kill on sight. Containment is not possible.
Yeah, “kill.” Right. As if that’s even possible.
The next on the list is, again, a usual suspect.
2. Bloody Mary
Identity: Unknown. Powers: Tier 5, Unknown Affliction. Last Seen: Rumored October 1030 A.D., New Chicago.
Description: Six foot seven, 180 pounds. Unknown outfit. Unknown appearance.
Notes: Bloody Mary is one of the oldest Remnants alive today.
Available reports are scattered, but the general consensus is her powers may be related to Affliction manipulation—though to what degree is unknown.
Mixed descriptions exist, some even speculate she may be an Afflicted animal, rather than a human.
NCPD Instructions: Attempt Containment. Capture if possible.
Unlike Darkrend, Bloody Mary had never been a boogeyman–at least not in the traditional sense. Her activities were more mysterious than dangerous. Still, the powers-that-be hate loose threads.
Since no one really knows what she looks like, many authorities are somewhat unclear as to whether she even exists. Many of the last eye-witness reports are as old as the First Disruption itself.
I suck in a deep breath before scrolling to the next entry.
3. The Dark One
Identity: Unknown. Powers: Tier 5, Unknown Affliction. Last Seen: October 23rd, 1030 A.D., New Chicago.
Description: Six foot five, 150 pounds. Dark cloak with Pre-First-Disruption Plague Doctor Mask.
Notes: The Dark One’s gender and identifying features are unknown. They generally appear in the shadows and strike without warning. They’re efficient in shadow manipulation, martial arts, and otherwise possess near invulnerability. The range of their shadow teleportation is unknown.
NCPD Instructions: Kill on sight. Containment is not possible.
My heart stutters for a moment at the final words. Call it willful ignorance, but I’d never looked at my RISE entry. The “more information” symbol by the NCPD instructions lights up as I hover over it.
Updated October 23rd, 1030 A.D..
I glance down at the date on the screen and, sure enough, the update is from last night. Somehow, my self-defense earned me a spot on the NCPD’s kill list.
And “strikes without warning?” I have the lowest kill count compared with the others on the list. I’m not averse to defending myself, but I’ve never gone out of my way to hurt someone. I’ve never done anything irrevocable without de-escalation first.
Sure, I attacked Shadowblade, but the asshole had it coming. And a little whack on the head was hardly vile. Triggerman lost his hand, but there are plenty of Cogsmiths around to give him a new, shiny bionic one.
Yet, here, written in digital ink is the death warrant. My own spun tale ending in a clear and unmistakable “kill on sight.”
Curiosity gets the better of me and I type my civilian name into the search bar.
61221: Arya Skovsgaard
Identity: Known, Civilian. Powers: Tier 1, Death Affliction. Last Seen: October 24th, 1030, A.D., New Chicago.
Notes: Skovsgaard is a private investigator often working alongside the NCPD. She is proficient in martial arts. Powers are somewhat nebulous but seem to be directed towards the ability to commune with the dead—its rarity requires RISE to create a new subsection to include a Death Affliction.
NCPD Instructions: Should this Remnant become unstable due to strain of Remnant abilities, Containment is suggested.
My heart takes on a rapid drumbeat as I quickly exit from the page, returning me to the overall list. I've never seen that before. Never cared enough to know what they thought of me. Never even considered looking myself up.
“What’s wrong?” Percy’s voice shatters my stunned silence. I catch her in my periphery, just over my shoulder.
“Nothing,” I stammer out, trying to find the same calm I always have before a fight. But it’s not there. Only the crushing anxiety at the false sense of security crumbling around me.
At this rate, Containment might even be the best option. My nightmares are getting worse and the voices are getting louder. It’s only a small blessing that the department is lit like it is–effectively keeping the shadows at bay.
“Arya?” Percy says my name tentatively, like she’d already tried to get my attention.
“Sorry,” I say softly, looking up at her. Her amber eyes are warm and soft—but she sees Arya, the Tier 1. Not Arya, the world-ending threat. “I got a bit spooked by the Tiers.”
The lying is coming so much easier these days. The last three years have been built on a precipice of deceit only one truth away from coming to a grotesque finale.
“The Dark One joined Darkrend and Omen with the K.O.S. order,” Percy nods at the screen. “I guess whatever they did last night after saving you was pretty awful.”
“Yeah,” I say, eyes going back to the screen. “Guess so.”
4. Omen
Identity: Unknown. Powers: Tier 5, Probability Manipulation. Last Seen: New Republic, 1025 A.D.
Description: Five foot five, 130 pounds. Bright, golden armor with a spherical helmet, often projecting outer space.
Notes: Omen’s gender is unknown. They are a terrorist responsible for the deaths of countless soldiers, politicians, and civilians who get between them and their goals.
They strike without warning or prelude. There is no counter to their powers.
Survivors note they “can change the trajectory of your fate.” What this means is unclear as those who survive are often unable, or unwilling, to discuss it.
After the assassination of President Moira Snow in 1025, Omen went to ground.
NCPD Instructions: Kill on sight. Containment is not possible.