“And what was that ‘phase two’?” An Enforcer with minimal mutation curtly asked Zax for his statement. He had made clear from the beginning he didn’t want to be here.
“Aran and I had to get to the safety staircase, out of reach. Then wait it out.”
“Wait it out?” The enforcer scratched a patch of red skin on the side of his neck, unimpressed.
“Or wait for you, I guess. Or go higher if they managed follow. But we weren’t worried about that. That kind of jump takes skill, a very advanced mutation, or a very specialised one. We had to use the wall itself as a stepping pad.”
“And you just happened to all have that skill. How lucky.” Zax couldn’t tell if the dubitative tone was accusatory or not, because why would it?
“Not really.” He shrugged and reminded: “Training that skill is why we were in that alley in the first place. I believe I mentioned it at the start. We had to team up too. I launched Aran to go high enough, and she grabbed my hand when it was my turn. She’s more agile, but I have a better grip.”
“Hrr. Then?” He growled.
“I thought SG would join us, but… well, you know the saying about calm people getting angry? That was a prime example. By that point the melee had devolved in a chaotic brawl. Screams, no space to move, no planning whatsoever. You’d think it was their first group fight. Something must’ve changed that I didn’t see. From above, it didn’t look like she snapped, more like, she took a decision and shifted gears. I knew she could fight, but man I didn’t realise how much she was still holding back! She was dancing in the crowd, flying above them and systematically one-shotting them. She was like… like…”
“Like?” The enforcer encouraged, captivated despite himself.
“Like an untouchable, unstoppable tempest. With feathers and talons. Terrifying and magnificent.”
A strange sensation filled his voice as he described his friend’s feat. He didn’t notice, but he couldn’t miss the enforcer doing a double take.
“It was over before I realised. I think before they realised too; they fell before they had time to realise how fast their numbers were dwindling. And she did it all without expression. I think that was the scariest part. No frown. No smile. No words. As if she wasn’t there. Like a machine. If I didn’t know her that well, I would’ve never seen how incensed she was.”
He didn’t precise how he actually knew. Her nanites and his direct access to her vitals were private information. He had no idea how Aran saw it, though, but she did.
“When everything was calmed down, we joined her downstairs – the normal way. Aran went to comfort SG and wait for you at the entrance. I went to give advanced first aid. I’m a licenced responder. You know, processing the wounded, sorting them by priority of treatment, stabilise who I could. That’s what we were doing when you guys arrived.”
“You claim they attacked you, but you still stayed to treat them?” The enforcer raised an eyebrow, dripping with sarcasm.
“Yes.” The dotter replied pointedly. “They were hurt, I could help without endangering myself, so I helped. Regardless of my personal feelings about them. Advanced first aid is a skill that comes with clear responsibilities, and I take them very seriously.”
The enforcer flinched at the intensity of his gaze. For the first time in the interrogation, he had no comment.
“That being said, it was quickly obvious none of them were in immediate danger. Broken bones at most. Usually in the legs or the ribs. No internal bleeding, no ruptured organs, no spine injury. With how many there were, I don’t think it’s a coincidence. The most injured is the Tall Girl.”
The enforcer nodded and unconsciously shivered at the mention.
Both arms and legs had been broken in at least one place, and her bruises and lacerations could build a mould of SG’s complete talons. Her belly even had a clear print; a long bruise for the foot arch equivalent, four smaller above and one bellow for the fingers, and matching bleeding punctures from the talons.
She had been evacuated for treatment as soon as the enforcers were able.
“And that’s mostly because she kept coming back. She’s quite something too. I could tell during my examination: she feels pain as well as anybody. Tho she has a resistance to being knocked out, somehow. And she just won’t quit. Even when everything was over and she was the last one standing – barely, but still more than she should’ve been able to – and she only let herself collapse once SG stopped attacking. So, yeah, definitely not a random thug.”
The enforcer blinked at the tangent, but at least it let him recover.
“Hrm. Alright. Why were you so reluctant to launch that phase 2? Miss SG is an advanced mutant and had the situation well in hand.” His tone had lost some of its edge, somehow.
“We didn’t know she was that good. Plus, it meant running away while our friend was holding them off. Of course we’d be reluctant. What kind of friend wouldn’t? Even if she was supposed to come just after us.”
“Hmm.”
The enforcer didn’t add anything. He seemed out of questions.
“If we’re done here, could you take those off?” Zax lifted his cuffed wrists. “I still don’t see why you did that.”
“Not yet. Standard procedure.”
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“No, it’s not.” He countered the obvious excuse. “My guardians studied the question when I had dealings in the Circle in the past, so I know.”
“You were suspicious.”
“How? Because I was treating wounded people? Just our clothes made it clear we were not on the same team.” He grabbed his nanite-made imitation of standard dotter outfit for emphasis. “And even if I was a suspect, standard procedure also requires a pat down and to take me to your station for processing and updating my file. Including the interrogation we did here.” He gestured between them. “So which is it? Am I a suspect or not?”
“Er-”
“Considering the numbers, it could still be explained as an out-of-procedure precaution; cuffing everyone until you’re sure of who is a perp or not. IF you don’t have anything for wings.” SG was the only one unbound. Aran was at her side, and she hadn’t been spared either. “You could’ve cuffed her legs though.”
The sudden vehemence in the so far passive dotter’s voice caught the enforcer off-guard. He couldn’t help it though. Garuza and the little dotters had warmed him up to the Residents, some, but the man’s wanton hostility made his old grievances come back in force. Not commenting on his attitude long enough to give a full statement had taken its toll, and the visitor was nearly out of patience.
Adrenaline had worn out long ago, and he was reeling from the ordeal. Physically and emotionally. He couldn’t even vent on this unprofessional enforcer; he was the last straw, not the root cause. That honour belonged to the Black Market itself.
The thugs’ asymmetric and mismatching mutations were unmistakably from surgeries. The hobbyist had suspected it from the first glance, and examining their bodies with their wounds had confirmed it. It meant those people had come from the Black Market, probably escaped as SG and the doctor had. Same time, same way, same circumstances. Not the same help, however.
They might have started together, but they definitely didn’t chance upon welcoming locals who shielded them and prepared them. A whole new world with unfathomable rules, only wrong habits, no guidance, no units… ending in the little dot, with the other outcasts, seemed unavoidable.
If they didn’t go overboard or played smart enough, the sense of novelty and rebellion they brought would explain how attractive they were to the block’s teenagers. Gorilla Arm couldn’t pull that off, so he was likely not the top dog.
The more Zax thought about it, the less he could bring himself to resent them. They were just trying to carve a place for themselves in the Shelter, using the only way of life they knew. Still, it didn’t excuse trying to force SG to join, or taking hostages to make her comply. Doctor Shelley had found a place and an honest job, and clearly, they were in contact.
Zax would not forget, but he wouldn’t keep them in his heart. He took a deep breath, held it for fifteen seconds, and let it go. He was tired. So tired.
“Anyway. You have my testimony.” He sighed. “You have my name and coordinates, for further questioning, if necessary. You have no reason to keep me any longer. I have no reason to keep those.” He held his wrists to the rude enforcer’s face.
“That- there’s- you-” The bewildered man stuttered, not knowing what to say or how to say it, but eventually his shoulders dropped.
He uncuffed Zax and spoke in a faint, pleading voice:
“Someone wants to talk to you at the station.”
“…Okay? Who? Why? What about?” Zax asked when the enforcer didn’t elaborate any further.
“I don’t know. We just received that order on the way.” His eyebrows kept going up and down, as if he didn’t know whether to be imploring for cooperation or angry at the non-immediate compliance.
“That order?”
“Bring the cameraman to the station.”
“…you don’t know who’s giving you orders?” Zax raised an eyebrow.
“I’m at the lowest level, so it can only come from above. It’s all that matters.” The enforcer stated like it was obvious. “Our lives are but playthings for everyone else.”
“That’s… not exactly reassuring. Even civilians?”
“Of course, if they’re rich enough. We need resources to do our job. The dot doesn’t send enough to do everything.” An accusatory tone slipped in the enforcer’s tone.
It doesn’t?
Well, it made sense. The First Circle was huge. Each bubble was close to the dot, either in size or in population. The main computer managed resources, but they were finite. Limited. Pieces of a conversation between his guardians, heard in his youth but not understood, came to mind:
“If they can’t deal with something themselves, it only makes sense to ask for help. Negotiate with the local powers. Help and resources for a price and favours.”
“Favours? You mean bribes.”
“It’s easy to call it corruption, but reality doesn’t care for morals.”
“…”
“Ideals are great and all, but if the main computer wants reality to follow outside the dot, it should send enough resources to do so.”
“What a dangerous rabbit hole. What if the favours include to silence events in their reports to the dot?”
The dotter understood now. He couldn’t trust Enforcers outside the dot as easily. What a scary thought.
Incidentally, it explained the little dot’s desire to solve their issues internally. In a bribing contest, they were disadvantaged.
“Is it alright if I don’t go? Because, to be honest, I want nothing more than going home and rest right now.”
And I have things to discuss with my friends.
“… You said you’re a dotter, right? You could be flagged as problematic. It’ll make things harder when you apply for Residency.”
That sounded wrong. Didn’t they have an immigration law that your life before the Circle was null? Hence the need for a new name that coincidentally made it harder for old friends and relatives to find you?
Whatever. It was a moot point anyway.
“Eh, that’ll never be an issue.” Zax snorted.
“Oh, no, with the way you handled the situation, you could apply right now. You’ve displayed enough skill and guts to compensate your low mutation. Maybe. Probably. The committee will judge. I’m confident that if you come to the station, your admission will be the smoothest.”
“That wouldn’t work. Your laws have something about a level of mutation, even if it’s ‘no matter how low it is’, but I still need to have a mutation. I don’t.”
“What do you mean ‘you don’t?” The enforcer chuckled. “Everyone has some mutation.”
“Not I.” Zax shrugged tiresomely. “I never activated, and it’s not for a lack of trying. I consulted experts, I became one, to no avail. Nobody knows why, but the 3G actively hates me. I’m the only actual natural adult purestrain in the Shelter.”
As an afterthought, he added:
“No relation to any cult or religious movement.”
The enforcer reflexively stepped back, prompting an annoyed clarification:
“It’s not contagious! All my childhood friend became Residents. Some with rare and awesome mutations.”
Disturbed, the enforcer half-heartedly tried other arguments, but Zax ultimately decided to go home with his friends. Their own statements were already over.
They walked and sat together in silence. Too exhausted and weary to discuss. It was past curfew, but proof of being held by legal procedures and they were granted exceptional permission at the access point.
Sleep was agitated for everyone.