"He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he thereby become a monster."
~ Friedrich Nietzsche
Chapter V
(8 years ago)
Year 2046
“You killed fifty-four cops,” the detective said, his face grim and voice laden with gravity.
Yoki had awoken in a sterile interrogation room, containing just a desk and four visible cameras. He was cuffed and tied with chains—hands, legs, feet—he couldn’t move any part of his body. Even his fingers were tied together, and his toes were bound with tiny chains. He felt stiff, nauseated, and utterly exhausted. The detective had entered the room and delivered the statement that brought the horrific memories rushing back.
Killed. Cops. Fifty-four. Yoki’s face fell, a heavy weight settling in his chest. How could he possibly explain this? He knew the detective would never understand.
“I didn’t know what I was doing,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“You didn’t know what you were doing when you murdered fifty-four people?” the detective retorted sharply. “The cameras caught all of it.”
The enormity of the number hit Yoki hard. Fifty-four lives extinguished. It made him want to cry, to break down, but he held back. He knew what had happened. The detective was telling the truth.
“I—I lose control sometimes. I’m really powerful—more powerful than any kid should be, probably.”
“Have you ever done anything like this?”
“No, nothing on this scale before. I never knew I could do anything like this—but I’ve also never found my parents mutilated beyond recognition before.”
He had to admit it: he was more than a little annoyed. He knew what he had done was horrific, a one-way massacre. Yet, the detective seemed to be ignoring the extreme circumstances—his overwhelming grief and misery.
“The people think you murdered your parents,” the detective said.
Yoki tried to stand, but it was impossible with the chains binding him. He shouted, “That’s a fucking joke! That’s like saying you’d kill your daughter!”
The detective’s face went from solemn red to a frightening pale. “How do you know I have a daughter?”
Did Yoki really have to explain himself in this situation? He needed to prove his innocence, not explain his genius.
“Your shirt,” Yoki began calmly, despite the circumstances. “You have a long strand of hair that differentiates from the color of yours. It’s a lot longer too.”
The detective looked down at his shirt, saw the hair, and picked it off, tossing it to the ground.
“It could be my wife’s.”
“Highly unlikely since you don’t have a wife, unless you’re separated at the moment. You aren’t wearing your wedding band—I can see from the crease marks on your ring finger that you wore it for around five years until you stopped wearing it. And your initial reaction confirmed my suspicion. I could have been wrong, but now I’m certain.”
The detective cut him off with a glare. “This isn’t about me, kid. It’s about you and the fifty-four dead officers. You’re a threat, and we have to figure out how to handle you after your willingness to misuse your. . . superhuman everything.”
Yoki frowned, thinking that he must have misheard.
“I’m not willing to misuse it. I didn’t know what I was doing. Seriously, you have to believe me!”
The image of his parents' mutilated bodies on their bedroom floor wouldn’t leave his mind. Didn’t that count for anything?
“I believe you, we believe you,” the detective said, implying that multiple people were on Yoki’s side. “We really do. But we have to keep everyone else safe. I’m sure you understand, Yoki.”
Why was this guy talking to him like he was some kind of little kid? He wasn’t an idiot. He knew how the world worked.
And where was The Academy? He’d never gotten any response to his acceptance letter. He hadn’t seen that nasty eagle again. They hadn’t sent him a summer reading list or a list of things to buy. They hadn’t told him where he’d need to go on his first day. And wasn’t this the kind of thing that the Academy would want to help out with? It seemed like “getting him out of potential prison time” was something they’d want to be involved in. But nothing. Total radio silence. He’d been totally abandoned. With his parents gone, it was hard not to feel completely alone in the world. No one cared what happened to him at all.
“That’s all right,” he said brightly, trying to keep things positive despite the grim situation. “What do I need to learn? What do I need to do? I’m willing to do whatever it takes to rejoin society.”
The detective frowned. “You know we can’t let you do that, Yoki.”
“What?”
“You’re too dangerous. You could hurt people again. Badly. Do you know how many families are grieving now because of what you did?”
He thought about it. “I guess fifty-four?”
“Don’t be flippant. This is really serious.”
“I know,” Yoki said, his voice trembling. “But I wasn’t—I wasn’t in control—”
This conversation wasn’t unfolding as he’d envisioned. He was in quite the predicament.
“You’re going to have to go to jail,” the detective said. “Stonegate Correctional Facility. Have you heard of it?”
“Stonegate?” Yoki repeated, perplexed. “You mean the facility for the most dangerous criminals? The place they say can break even the toughest among us?”
“Precisely. That’s exactly what it is. It’s what the law mandates in cases like yours. Your actions surpass those of some of history’s most notorious serial killers. They expect you to be subjected to the most deplorable conditions. Even beyond that.”
“Such draconian laws! I’m just a—”
“Clearly not that defenseless, considering the number of officers you’ve killed. Intentional or not, you’re far from helpless.”
“Oh,” he said, his heart sinking. He’d heard the harrowing tales about Stonegate, although there was no way to verify their truth. Only the most hardened criminals were sent there—and those who entered with any fragility emerged either dead or irreparably broken. They were left utterly incapable of reintegrating into normal society. Most prisoners in Stonegate were given life sentences—but those who weren’t often reoffended and found themselves back inside almost immediately upon release. They found the overt cruelty of prison life more tolerable than the insidious cruelty of the outside world. But there was something whispered about only in hushed tones: the worst of the worst in Stonegate went underground, and those who went underground were never seen again. This was the stuff of legends, folktales that spoke of the unspeakable horrors beneath the prison. It was best to stay on the surface—if that was even possible.
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He desperately wanted to avoid going to Stonegate. He didn’t want to be irrevocably changed; even a typical prison was to be avoided. It transforms people. He wanted to cling to what remained of his youthful innocence and hope for the future.
“Please,” Yoki begged futilely, “I know I made a mistake. But I don’t want to go there. I’ll do anything. Please don’t make me go there!”
The detective was already shaking his head. “It’s not you who’s my priority right now. It’s all the defenseless people who could be hurt by your actions. After all—didn’t you just say that you didn’t know what you were doing when you killed all those men and women? What’s to stop it from happening again?”
“I’ll figure out how to control it. I’ll find any means necessary. I can fix myself. I’ll do the work.”
“It’s too risky. It’s ultimately the judge’s call, but I’m going to recommend a life sentence for you. And I think she’ll likely grant it. She’s the daughter of a cop.”
“That doesn’t seem fair. Couldn’t you find someone who isn’t related to a cop to judge this?”
“You’ll be safe in Stonegate,” the detective said. “Remember, rumors are just that—rumors. They hold no value, no truth. You might even come to find it comforting. There’s a regular routine. It’s very clean. You’ll never hurt anyone again. Isn’t that a nice thought? It must have been frightening when you came to and realized what you’d done.”
“I—“ Yoki stopped. It had been terrifying. The psychological state he was in left him unstable and unpredictable, even he knew that. He’d been horrified at his own actions.
“See?” The detective stated, as if reading his mind. “There’s something reassuring about that. I think you’ll like your new life. I really do. Try to embrace it. Try to look on the bright side.”
Yoki scowled again. The detective was so condescending. His parents were dead, and he was facing life in a maximum-security prison. Where was the bright side in that?
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Yoki was escorted into the courtroom, handcuffed and flanked by eight police officers—two in front, two on each side, and two behind him. He was placed in a chair, waiting for the judge to start the arraignment. Yoki had been assigned a public defender who had neither spoken to nor looked at him. He already had a bad feeling about this.
The silence in the room was excruciating. Yoki glanced around and saw the faces of what he assumed were the officers’ families. He saw a mixture of grief, sadness, and rage. He heard the sniffles of those holding back tears and felt the tension in the room growing by the second.
Why had he killed those officers? They hadn’t done anything to him; they were trying to help. How could he have been so stupid? The loneliness he felt now was suffocating. In this enormous world, he was utterly alone, with no one to help him, guide him, or show him the way to redemption. The only thing he had left was his newsboy cap, the sole connection to his deceased parents.
The judge entered the room at last and settled into her chair. Just then, Yoki remembered something the detective had said.
She’s the daughter of a cop.
“All rise,” the judge said, breaking the oppressive silence. The officers behind Yoki roughly lifted him from his chair. “Please be seated.” Yoki was shoved back down into his chair.
“We are here for the arraignment of Yoki Stones Walker. Will the defendant’s lawyer please come forward?”
Yoki’s lawyer stood up and walked to the podium, leaving all her papers on the desk beside him. Did she not need them? No—there was something going on that Yoki was being kept in the dark about. He could sense it. “Good afternoon, Your Honor. I’m Jill Smith, representing Yoki Walker, assigned by the State of Massachusetts.”
“Thank you, Ms. Smith. Today we gather to address the actions of Yoki Stones Walker. Under Rule 3.1 7OC, a plea of not guilty will be entered on the defendant’s behalf…”
“Excuse me, Your Honor, but Yoki Walker pleads guilty.”
Wait, what did she say?
“If that’s the case, Yoki Walker will be sentenced to life in prison as an adult on multiple charges of second-degree murder along first-degree murder. Evidence from the police officers’ surveillance cameras will support this. Walker premeditated the murder of his parents, and the anonymous tip we received resulted in the deaths of fifty-four honorable police officers..” There was a pause for the screeching sobs of a particularly rotund woman whom Yoki wished he could strangle, his blood boiling at the false accusations regarding his parents' murder. “He will be sent to Stonegate Correctional Facility immediately. Thank you for your time, everyone.” With a decisive strike of the judge’s gavel, Yoki’s life was condemned to rot away in one of—if not the most—reputable and harsh prisons in the world.
“What!” Yoki screamed, unable to contain his fury. “I plead not guilty! I wasn’t in control of my body! I loved my parents—the accusations are insulting! Please listen, PLEASE!” He struggled to stand, fighting against the guards as they tried to keep him seated. “I swear I didn’t mean to. I swear!” Yoki’s face was crimson with rage, his screams echoing through the courtroom.
“As you can see, ladies and gentlemen, this is a prime example of Mr. Walker’s extreme violent tendencies. We would like everyone to leave the room immediately. Mr. Walker could pose a threat to you all right now.”
A slight yelp erupted from the back, and people rushed out of the building. They thought he was dangerous. They thought he was a bad person. He wasn’t—he promised them he wasn’t. This was unfair, unjust! He hadn’t meant to do it; he had lost control! He didn’t want to go to jail, let alone Stonegate Correctional Facility. Sixty years of his life, he’d rot away there. No, this was not what he was raised for. This was not going to be his legacy. He was going to fix his reputation.
Gathering his strength, Yoki started to pull on the handcuffs.
I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here.
Then, he felt something strike his head, and darkness enveloped his vision. The last sensation he experienced was the cool wooden floor meeting him with a loud thud.
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That was so close! If you had only held on a little longer, we could’ve gotten out.
“What? Where am I?” Yoki felt disoriented, as if he were submerged underwater. Everything was blurry, but as he looked around, it appeared to be a vast white void.
Where are you? Where are we? What is our purpose in the world? The universe is an infinite expanse of quantum elements waiting to be explored. We are but tiny specks of sand in a vast cosmos. Would you like to become more than that, boy? That’s up to you.
“What the hell are you talking about? Who are you? Where am I? How’d I get here?” Yoki’s mind was a whirlwind of confusion, his thoughts swirling together. He could only discern that the voice belonged to a male.
Shhhhh, calm down, child. Your questions are irrelevant to what you should be asking. What you should do now is your biggest priority, is it not?
Out of the corner of his eye, Yoki saw a dark shape emerge. It gave him a friendly wave and then proceeded to sit on something. Everything was a blur. All he could make out was that he was in a white void, conversing with some dark, silhouetted creature. Was he going insane? No, surely not. This felt too real to be an illusion. He didn’t know why he was here, but he might as well make use of it. “What should I do now, Mr. . .”
Just call me Painkiller, no mister needed. What should you do? Ah, there you go. Hmm, I don’t know, what should you do, Yoki?
This Painkiller was infuriating him. Answering questions with more questions! His tone suggested he wanted something from Yoki, but Yoki didn’t exactly have anything to give at the moment. Looking down at himself, he realized he was no longer his usual self but rather a dark figure like the one he was talking to. He held out his hands and saw that they were claws. What the hell? “Are you going to answer my questions, Painkiller, or are you just going to mock me?”
Yoki felt a shift in the place he was in, as if something was interfering with reality itself. The Painkiller glitched in and out of sight. When it spoke next, its voice sounded different.
Hehe, feisty one you are. I shall tell you but one answer, for that is all you need. Wake up, and ally yourself with Doc. If you don’t, you’ll die at Stonegate. Now, wake up. Wake up, Mr. Nightwalker. Wake—
“Wake up, you damn maggot!”
“Ahh, where am I?” Yoki pried his bloodshot eyes open to see a man smirking down at him with a horrid grin.
“Heh, you’re in for it, you damn sinner! We’re on the way to Stonegate. Ain’t you one lucky son of a bitch!” The man hollered. He grinned once again, wider this time—Yoki felt an instant wave of nausea. The man’s smile was vile, with four missing teeth and a couple of rotten ones, yellow and black stumps.
Is this guy a prisoner like me? Yoki thought. With a closer look, it appeared that the man was wearing a uniform. A prison officer uniform. No. Fucking. Way.
“Tsk, just wait ‘till yer gets to Stongate ya maggot! Ya screwed up big time, buddy.” With that, the officer walked over to another sleeping person.
With a glance around him, Yoki finally realized he was in a plane, not a bus. He counted five other people who were also shackled. Two of them were hulking, muscular men—stereotypical criminals. The next pair were twins, their bodies a canvas of tattoos, each identical to the other. Their lean forms were a stark contrast to the brutality of the first two men. Finally, his gaze fell upon the fifth man, a slender figure adorned with an excessive amount of makeup. As their eyes met, the man offered a sly, perverse grin. He gave a slow, deliberate wink that sent a shiver down Yoki’s spine. Realization dawned on him with a sickening clarity. He was going to Stonegate, the world’s most unforgiving prison, where the line between sanity and madness blurred, and survival was a luxury few could afford.