RHEA WAS A PERFECT SPECIMEN of shock.

But she didn’t stay like that for long. Rhea wheeled around, turning to Cyra. She ripped off the VR goggles with rage. Cyra stood frozen a minute to get her bearings and differentiate virtual from reality.

“Cyra. You were the last to see Sliver.”

Cyra looked at Rhea. “Sure, commander. But I can’t say why it’s taking her so long. She was only going to drop off her weapons.”

Rhea cut the chase. “Cyra. She’s dead.”

That was, admittingly, not the gentlest way to deliver the news. Cyra’s first reaction was denial. She did a pathetic smile. “It’s not true. It’s not true, is it? It’s a joke.”

Qwynn walked up to her. “I’m sorry.”

Blitz wasn’t very good with sentimentalities. She patted Cyra awkwardly before walking off. Her hands fidgeted, begging to do something useful. The others were still in their VR world, which seemed inappropriate for the occasion. So Blitz shut off the VR power. The teacher didn’t even try to stop her. She just stared respectfully at Rhea, ready to back her boss up at any moment.

Now everyone else took off their blank goggles in confusion.

“What happened?” Flick asked.

“Anyone die?” Fatalty asked.

Silence. She gulped, realizing the severity of the situation. “That was a joke, guys.” Fatalty did a quick head count to save her from embarrassment. “Sliver?”

They all nodded.

“Show me the scene,” Rhea commanded, waving Blitz and Qwynn aside. Blitz nodded, too occupied to think of a snappy comeback.

They walked to the same place in silence, Qwynn in the lead, Rhea close behind. Blitz sort of dragged her feet after them. The torches no longer gave off warmth. They just gave off light, the sort of light given in the hospital wing.

But the day’s surprises didn’t end there. Qwynn neared the sight and, just like the first time, she stopped, face ashen.

Realizing something was wrong, Rhea pushed her way forward. Blitz followed, worried and curious.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Rhea looked at Qwynn inquisitively.

But Blitz knew different. Something, no someone was missing. She turned to Qwynn.

“Where’d the seventh-ranker go?”

Rhea looked confused. “Hold on. Are you saying there were two dead? That’ll mean the killing wasn’t aimed for Sliver. That—”

“No.” Blitz cut off Rhea’s train of thought, “There was a seventh-ranker who fainted here. We heard her scream. I don’t know where—”

For the second time Blitz and Qwynn looked at each other, understanding what happened at the same time. Rhea took a little longer, but caught on. Unfortunately, her first reaction was blame.

“Who checked the pulse?” Qwynn looked like she swallowed a shuriken. Rhea narrowed her eyes at her. “Did you check all signs of a faint? Eyelid check? Slap check? No? Did you even search for weapons?”

Qwynn looked like she was trying to morph into turtle and collapse in a shell. All of her original determination was gone. Blitz came to the rescue. “She was in shock. It was good enough that she regained her sanity and check the pulse altogether.”

Rhea turned her stare to Blitz. “Well, if that’s so, why didn’t you check it then?”

Blitz looked up in surprise. “Excuse me, I was checking the dead person’s pulse. I trust Qwynn. It’s not my fault I didn’t check the other one!”

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“Excuse you. Is that how you talk to a commander?”

“No. Because you’re not acting like a commander worth respecting. I’m sorry, but I don’t give out lagniappes.”

Rhea probably didn’t know what that word meant. Pity, Blitz thought, it’s such a pretty word. Rhea did have a sort of idea what it may have meant though. And the result was the same. Rhea opened her mouth to say, “Go. Just go. You let an Arth kill Sliver and get away, and you don’t know how to appreciate my not locking you up along with—” she stopped, as if changing her mind, “—along with the other lunatics. Go.”

Blitz ran off, muttering curses in several different languages. She was running towards her dorm, as she usually did when something of the sort happened, but she decided to turn a left and head to the jail. Something about locking up lunatics had sparked Blitz’s memory. The Kor tailor was situated next to the jail, and the scratch in Blitz’s boot was wearing into a hole.

Finally, Blitz stopped in front of a wall of doors. These doors were made with a foot of rock and iron. These were the lunatic cells. The corridor was the fastest way to get to the tailor. B

Blitz walked slowly, as she always did in the jail. She didn’t want to anger any prisoners more than they already were. The next war could spark from these people.

Blitz followed the cold line of stone doors. Seemingly random numbers were etched deep into the rock, surprisingly crude compared to most of the Kor. 519, 308, 114, 847. Blitz knew what they meant though. Each cell contained some sort of insane prisoner. These prisoners lived in their own grave. They were to rot in these cells forever.

Each of these prisoners were assigned a number. The higher the number, the more horrendous the crime was. Some, like number 114 probably didn’t commit a big crime but was just a person stripped from sanity. What 847 did however, must have been huge. Blitz touched the door, wondering if the person was still alive.

Is that, an X? Blitz squinted at the number on the door. Two light strokes of chalk struck through the number. Was that an accident? Blitz looked at the adjoining doors. Must be.

Blitz’s brain instantly went to work. An accident was the most reasonable explanation, yet it was still unlikely. No one would casually bring a piece of chalk to the lunatic cells, just to scratch one of the doors. Besides, it wasn’t like there was a lot of chalk lying around the Kor. All the classrooms used whiteboards and had a digital projector fitted on it.

Could 847 be dead? That was more plausible. Yet it wouldn’t explain the X. No one went into an occupied lunatic cell. It was practically suicide. Consequently, no one knew if the occupant was dead or not. Blitz puzzled over the possibilities.

A guard tapped Blitz on the shoulder. She was too tall, too skinny, and too fragile. Horrible ninja material. “May I ask what you’re doing here?”

“Oh!” Blitz turned around. “I was wondering why the number was crossed out.”

The guard shrugged. “The commander came the other day and led her out. Some weirdo.”

Let her out? This was a surprise. Blitz had considered it, but immediately dismissed the idea. And why 847?

Blitz thanked the guard, and set off to the jail office.

There was a book, a log of some sort, called Criminal Records. It logged all the prisoners ever to spend a day in the cells. Cyra would be in the book. It was no secret her first two days in the Kor was as a prisoner.

The only problem was, this book was nestled in a file cabinet in the jail office. Obviously Blitz couldn’t simply walk in and steal it, but taking the book was easy enough.

Blitz slipped into a nondescript door. It was one of the many entrances to the first underground level. She slipped into a vent, into the wall. A little climbing led her to the back wall of the jail office.

No one really watched the jail office. There were, however, two surveillance cameras mounted in the corners. Whenever they detected motion, they would send a signal to someone in the surveillance room, and Blitz would be caught. However, the cameras had no microphone.

Blitz pulled out a serrated dagger. She positioned it at the wall, and started carving a square out of it. The walls had a thin layer of insulation, but it was relatively easy to get through it. Finally, her dagger hit metal. The file cabinet.

The file cabinet was made of cheap aluminum. It was the easiest to make and bend. Besides, there would be no point in a sturdy cabinet. The cameras ensured no intruder would be able to come in the room without a trace. Blitz’s dagger easily pierced the soft metal, cutting a large rectangle in the back of the cabinet. Blitz reached her hand into the hole.

It took a bit of trial and error to find the right book. She pulled out several manuals and a romance novel before finding the Criminal Records book. Blitz quickly grabbed it out and replaced the aluminum rectangle as best as she could. The romance novel told her that it wouldn’t be long before someone would discover the hole.

Blitz crawled back to the underground tunnels, which had a better lighting than the vent. She flipped through pages of frightening criminals, one after the other. A half-melted woman stared through empty eye sockets. A bloody man, man, stared at her with hungry eyes. The worst were the ones without pictures though. Descriptions of the criminal were printed instead. Words like, bloody eyes, gut-gushing, and skinless bounced off the page. The closer Blitz neared 847, the harder her heart thumped.

What would it be? She thought, Demented skull-head?

But when she turned to 847, she was met by an attractive woman. Blitz was about the read the passage next to it when all went black.