POV Seth

Seth succumbed to the silent terror of his situation.

He stared at the frosted reinforced glass barrier that separated him from his freedom. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t speak. He felt hollow.

The guards that were promised had yet to arrive. Not that he’d know for sure. They separated him from the main security station in a pod of six narrow cells.

As for food, he had three whole food cubes to his name, which was everything that the former soldier had on him, promising more, though no mention of when. If Seth ate one food cube every other day, he’d survive the week, but without water, he wouldn’t last that long.

The shock was too much. His mind kept glitching between the heavy-handed dominance of his therapist and the implications that she had been getting away with it for some time. But why kill him? That’s the part that made no sense.

He felt stupid. He felt stupid for thinking he could play her game. He felt stupid for believing that he was playing her game at all. Though he had managed a few satisfying jabs, it all meant nothing. The idea rattled him as the artificial lights dimmed, leaving him in complete darkness.

It was rare to be in complete darkness. It was common knowledge that demons feared the light. All modern spaces were fashioned with dimming light-strips that ran along the base of the walls.

Normal people would have panicked in the darkness. They had every reason to fear the things that could not be seen. Seth had grown accustomed to it. It hadn’t been the first time he was forced into a tight enclosure for disobedience. The Council’s cell was nicer, twice the size, and cleaner.

He listened to the unfamiliar sounds of nothing. He feared that if he listened hard enough, he just might hear something unwanted, but he couldn’t help himself. Sometimes, just sometimes, he’d hear the soft clinking of chimes caught in a soft breeze. Sound of any sort attracted demons; everyone knew that much. Come nightfall, you spoke only if necessary. Silence was the rule.

He was alone. Forgotten.

*****

Early dawn poured through the skylight in the hall, gliding down the frosted glass barrier of his cell.

He hadn’t slept a wink. How could he? Demons liked to nibble on him in his sleep.

The REM inhibitors were the only things keeping them away. The REM inhibitor element of his medication was only a side effect of his father’s failed experimental vaccine.

The prominent theory was that some people attracted demons to them. It was a theory that the Red Order fed on, and society had no qualms supporting. The fear of drawing demons to civilized areas was so strong that mobs had turned on survivors, leaving their bloodied remains well outside the outskirts of town.

Seth knew firsthand that the demons craved the scent of death and savagery. His no-kill style of command, though deeply unpopular, was developed because, in combination with his genetic curse, he didn’t want demons drawn to the school because of his actions. He was certain that they’d pop-out of every nook and cranny just to feed on his spoils.

Doctor Wright took a different perspective on Seth’s condition. He theorized Seth suffered from a genetic anomaly that made him more desirable than other humans. Seth dared not utter the word curse in front of his deeply rational father. He dared not express any feelings at all.

One day, the demons stopped coming, rendering him useless in his father’s research. One might think that the experimental vaccine had worked, but that hadn’t been the case at all.

To this day, the vaccine remains incomplete. Regardless, Seth stole what he could. He considered the possibility that the REM inhibitors were just a crutch, that at some point his genetic condition had been accidentally modified through his father’s tampering.

Whenever he forgot to take his medication, he suffered from horrific night terrors; his subconscious lashed out at him for years of neglect.

Just as the thought passed from his subconscious to his conscious awareness, the glass barrier in front of him unfrosted, revealing two men. He swallowed his rage, feeling like a lab rat in one of his father’s experiments. “I’ll be reporting all of this to the authorities,” Seth hissed.

The men nodded to each other, the same apathetic matter-of-fact way his father reacted to any of his outbursts.

“I wouldn’t lead with that, Sport,” Sergeant Noland stated, his voice emanating from a speaker that was embedded in the frame of his cell. The sergeant placed a couple of chairs in front of the glass barrier and took a seat. The light in the cell block had improved by little. The artificial lights above and the dim light-strips along the base of the wall remained dark.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

The sergeant was much younger compared to the man with him. The soldier had a square set jaw, and a hard, distant look in his dark eyes. His hair was peppered in greys around his ears. He was solid, giving the impression that he hadn’t missed a workout since returning to civilization. A notable contrast to his partner Paul, who wore his uniform like a man who was just working a job; Sergeant Noland kept his uniform pristine and well maintained.

The second man wore a suit. His suit coat buttoned up to his neck, barely hiding the fleshy divide between his neck and neatly trimmed beard. His critical gaze remained focused on Seth, adding to his discomfort. He introduced himself, “I’m Headmaster Vincent LaRivière, formally Master Warrant Office LaRivière. That’s right, I served,” the headmaster added, and thought back through the years. “I’d say I came back to the real world the year you were born, assuming my math holds out.”

“What’s going to happen to me?” Seth asked, hoping he didn’t sound too aggressive, he was sure that he failed to hide his fear.

The sergeant and headmaster shared a look. “There’s nothing to be alarmed about,” the headmaster said.

Seth arched a brow, surprised by the casual way they were treating his unusual predicament. The headmaster nodded and gestured in such a way to acknowledge Seth’s situation. Whatever the headmaster was thinking could not be said out loud.

“I think it’s best to lay your situation out on the line as best I understand it. I’ve got conflicting reports, and I wanted to get your side before making a decision,” Headmaster LaRivière said.

“We have security in the main office,” the headmaster pointed to the exit. “We have recorded your presence here. We have reported the incident to your father.” He watched Seth for a moment to gauge his reaction.

Seth was sure his father didn’t care about his performance or his behaviour at school, but it would give the old man leverage for something. “And my sponsors?” All he cared about was that he could return to school next year.

“Your sponsors are fine.”

“But they sent something.”

The headmaster nodded. “They requested context, which is not something we’re able to provide. However, based on what they had received, they had questions regarding the game.”

“The game?” Yes, of course, that was the reason he had submitted for evaluation. Yes, he was going through a lot, but all of that drama was bound to pass. It was the games that terrified him.

“What about my sessions? And the footage?” Seth didn’t know where to start, how to start. Everything he had been through these past few weeks was getting jumbled.

“We have reviewed the Gaming Commission’s footage of the game and found no discernible reason for concern,” the headmaster reported his rehearsed statement.

“Yeah, the doctor said as much. I was hallucinating.”

“Depends on your definition of hallucinating,” Sergeant Noland replied. “Doctored footage would lead to that impression.”

“Doctored? Why would they doctor it?” The words had escaped him before the full thought had formed. They would doctor it if they had something to hide. Seth must have seen something he wasn’t meant to, which is why the good doctor had flagged him for a death sentence. But what was it?

Vincent rubbed the back of his neck as he took a moment to choose his words. “The reasons vary. Your particular case is complicated,” the headmaster said at last. “It’s exactly the kind of complicated that these people didn’t expect.”

“It’s complicated because they made it complicated,” Seth reiterated.

“No, actually, it’s you,” the sergeant smiled. “You aren’t the typical student. You aren’t the typical game participant. You don’t even approach the games the same way the other teams do. From what I’m told, it was all trades and favours. Usually, the winner is decided almost a year in advance. You changed all that. You’re making them fight for victory. And then we have your sponsors, who aren’t your typical sponsors.”

“Do you know who they are?” Seth interrupted.

The sergeant shrugged, leaving the headmaster to answer if he would at all. “You have over twenty thousand sponsors,” the headmaster volunteered.

“I was given the impression that they were a corporate entity,” Seth replied.

Vincent nodded. “The funds are handled through a branch of the E.M.I. and a development officer is appointed to each war-bound student we sponsor.”

“We?”

The headmaster nodded but spoke carefully when he replied, choosing his words with precision, “I became a member when I returned. I had trouble adjusting. A friend of mine, a trust fund kid if you will, founded the E.M.I. to help troubled soldiers adjust. You could say that I am one of your sponsors, as is the sergeant here.”

Sergeant Noland saluted. “Wish we could have met under better circumstances.”

“At this time, there is nothing that we have uncovered that would have you lose your final year. Seeing how we’re investing in our future soldiers, we have a vested interest in seeing this through. You will go to war regardless of your attendance. There’s nothing that will change that, so we don’t view this incident as a loss.”

“Doesn’t that make it a conflict of interest?” Seth wished he hadn’t asked.

The headmaster shrugged. “Of course. This conversation means that the sergeant and myself lose voting rights. However, since the administration has pushed for your removal based on the assets they’ve provided, we’ve been assigned to investigate. A decision will be reached by the end of the week, if not sooner. If you’ll excuse us, Mr. Wright, our time with you is finite.”

The sergeant tapped a command onto his hand device, and a screen appeared on the barrier for Seth to see. The words ‘connection open’ blinked on the top right of the screen. Hundreds, if not thousands, of small screens opened, resizing and shrinking to fill the big screen. The rooms beyond were dark, masking the people looking back at him.

The distant chime caught in a soft breeze sounded in the back of his mind, and for a moment, he felt the breeze caress his sweating skin, soothing his nerves. He glanced at the men beyond the glass barrier as they adjusted their posture, even though they could not be seen by the thousands of onlookers. For a moment, he caught a soft, barely noticeable sheen in the men’s eyes.

“If you would indulge us. Please, walk us through the Championship game from the beginning.”