CHAPTER 25 - SABRA

There wasn’t even a bunk bed. That was about all Sabra saw of her cell before two APD officers came for her, cuffed her, and dragged her out of it. They hauled her through the gleaming halls of power, and she went utterly limp. It wasn’t comfortable, having her toes dragging against the floor, but she knew that hauling her six feet of lean dead weight was less comfortable for the pair of police officers, so she figured it was an acceptable trade.

And, hell, maybe her feet would dull just a little bit of that gleam. Maybe a meaningless victory in the long run, erased the moment some service droid came by and buffed it once again, but it was her victory all the same, and that was the only thing that mattered.

The officers dragged her away from the cells and down a nondescript hallway to a nondescript door with a nondescript room behind it. It was familiar in the way of a half-remembered memory. She’d been in a room like it once before, when she’d been busted for ‘salvaging’ at the age of fifteen. An interrogation room. Soundproofed walls, hidden cameras, a small table that was only just big enough for two people, and a pair of angular metal chairs.

The officers shoved her into the one facing away from the door. Turned out the chair was more uncomfortable than it had looked. And worse than that, it made her butt cold.

“Would it kill you to get some heating in here?” Sabra asked.

The officers didn’t reply. They turned and stepped out, leaving her there, alone. Sabra turned, looking for some kind of clock, but didn’t find one. Wondered how long she’d be in there. What they were expecting her to do. When they’d bring in Pavel Fisher, too. No, she thought, correcting herself. He’d stay in holding, probably. It wasn’t like he’d end up sitting opposite her.

There was nothing to look at beyond a dent in one wall. Maybe there were people on the other side of it, watching her. She put that from her mind and checked herself for injuries, pressing and probing, rotating and stretching. She’d probably bruise, but nothing was broken, not stabbing pains. Just aches and fatigues. Wrists, especially—the cuffs were tight.

The door hissed open behind her. Someone stomped inside, and there was something familiar about their gait. Sabra kept her eyes forward, showing defiance. Then Revenant stepped past her and settled in the chair opposite.

“Well,” she said, with that rapier’s edge of sarcasm. “Isn’t this a surprise?”

Sabra tilted her chin up and stared her down, met the golden gaze behind her mask. “So, you’re here to interrogate me?”

“No.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t want to bore you.”

Revenant raised one hand and waved it at Sabra’s cuffs, and they fell from her wrists. She clasped her hands before her and went still. There were subtle lines along her fingers and hands, tracing joints and planes. Prosthetics, like Fisher?

“So,” Sabra said. “You’re the good cop, huh?”

“I wasn’t made to be cruel. There’s no need for the handcuffs. You could not break out of this room, not even in your suit of armor.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

“I’m sure.”

“So,” Sabra said, “what’re you doing here?”

“My business is my own.”

“Gloating, then.”

Revenant tilted her head to one side. Sabra found herself reminded of a curious bird, or one that was about to swoop down upon prey.

“Do you remember what I told you, the last time we spoke?”

“I’m sure you’re just drooling at the chance to remind me.”

“‘If I see you again, I’ll be putting you in a cell.’” Revenant let that linger for one beat of her heart. “I didn’t expect you to make it so easy for me.”

“You had nothing to do with it.”

“Did you catch them?” Revenant asked.

“Who?”

“The mercenaries. The ones you were so upset about two nights ago.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I can,” Revenant said, “I am.”

“No,” Sabra said, rolling her eyes. “I didn’t. I didn’t have time to check every building in the city in forty-eight hours. Maybe if you’d offered to help instead of being so holier-than-thou, it’d be a different story.”

“I am not holier than you.”

Sabra leaned back. “Whatever.”

Revenant asked, “Have you decided on a name?”

Sabra stared at the dent in the wall.

“You should,” Revenant continued. “Someone will be here to question you shortly. Star Patrol if you’re lucky. SOLAR if you’re not. You should at least attempt to pretend you’re following the rules.”

“Sure,” Sabra said, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You can call me Defiant.”

Revenant nodded. She rose up from her chair with an impossible grace, like she’d spent a thousand hours perfecting how to stand up. “It suits you.”

It took Sabra a moment.

“Wait, was that a joke?”

“Maybe. Get out of here, Defiant, and we’ll see about that offer of help.”

The door hissed shut, then open. Someone else entered and came around into Sabra’s vision before heading on to the other chair. Great Barrier. She wore a tight blue bodysuit that Sabra couldn’t imagine ever wearing as her uniform—far too revealing—but it was the sort of unarmored gear that said the wearer was extraordinarily arrogant or extraordinarily powerful. Scintillating green lines branched around it in an asymmetrical design, like hard coral.

“You’ve slipped your cuffs,” Great Barrier said. “No matter.” Sabra made a show of rubbing her wrists as she sat down across from her.

“I’m Great Barrier,” she continued. “I’m the team leader of the Star Patrol detachment in Asclepion.”

“Oh, are you new in town?” Sabra asked. “I mean, I haven’t seen you out where I live. Is this about when you tell me you’re recording all this?”

“I don’t have to. But, yes, you are being recorded, and anything you say can be used against you. And it probably will.”

“I want a lawyer,” Sabra said, clearly enunciating. “I want my phone call.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Great Barrier replied. “Not yet. This is an issue of empowered security. Based on what you’re saying, and from your record, I gather that you’ve had run-ins with the law before. But things are different when you use a stolen suit of police armor to assault officers of the law and engage in street brawls, among other things.”

“Maybe if you had gotten to that bank on time. Maybe if you’d done something about that Taurine and her gang before it got this bad.”

“I can’t comment on that. What I can comment on is that my subordinates were looking to apprehend a suspect who was wanted for assaulting two police officers. The irony is that I was prepared to waive those charges if you had any information on Taurine. But now, you’re just being difficult.”

“Defiant, you could say.”

She didn’t seem to get it.

“Do you think this will go well for you?” Great Barrier asked.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Don’t know, but I’m happy to find out.”

Great Barrier sighed.

“Don’t you think it’s kinda weird that you call them your subordinates and not your fellow heroes?” Sabra asked.

“That language is antiquated, Miss...”

“Defiant. It’s Defiant.”

“Jesus,” Great Barrier muttered. “Okay. Very well. Defiant, that language is antiquated. Empowered vigilante heroism died at the end of the Golden Age. What you see before you right now, that’s the way things are done, with procedure and accountability.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Is that what you were trying to do? To be a superhero?”

“Someone has to.”

“Well, there are proper ways, Defiant. Legal ways. I know for a fact that Asclepion maintains three separate programs for aspiring individuals with empowered abilities. Primary, secondary, and tertiary. If you wanted to be a hero, why didn’t you sign up?”

“Because I’m not empowered.”

“That’s precisely my point,” Great Barrier said. “Technically, without IESA registration, I don’t even need to respect your alias, but I’d like to think we can be courteous to each other. That is why I am here in person.”

“It’s bullshit, you know,” Sabra said. “That you need some flashy power to be a superhero.”

“It’s there in the legislation, Defiant. As of this moment, you’re just a girl in a stolen suit. Whatever protections the law can afford to give you, even here, they all depend on that marker on your file.”

“Yeah. Right.”

“I don’t make the rules, Defiant.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Look, I get it. I really do. I understand your attitude. But the right thing to do right now is to make this as painless as possible. I can help you, if you’ll let me.”

“Okay,” Sabra said, and leaned forward on the table. “Then help me by getting me my phone call.”

“We’ll see.”

Barrier tapped her side of her table with her thumb. Data scrolled across it, and she read.

“Sabra Kasembe. Age nineteen. Alias Defiant. I have your address and the names of your parents. I have everything here. You need to understand that this dream of yours, this idea of Golden Age heroism where you can hide your civilian identity? It’s impossible.”

“Yeah? Well, you had no idea who I was until you brought me in.”

“Exactly my point.”

“So, who are you then, huh? Who’re you behind the mask? You know who I am, so why don’t I get to see your real face if that whole thing is impossible?”

“As a registered empowered hero under the Global Security Act 2051, I do not need to give you that information. Defiant, this isn’t a negotiation, and I’d ask you to not make an already tense day that much worse. I’m here to help you. Let me meet you on the same level here.”

“That’s the whole problem! You think you need to step down to talk to me on my own level!”

“I’m not the enemy. If you let me help you, this will be much easier for you. Tell me why you did it.”

“Did what?” Sabra asked. “I’m not going to admit to shit. Whatever I did, I did it because you wouldn’t.”

Behind Sabra, the door slid open again. This time, she turned to look. A man stepped through wearing combat armor in midnight-blue, trimmed in silver. Olive skin with black hair that curled grey around his ears. But the lines around his eyes made it look like he hadn’t slept for at least a few days, and the stubble around his jaw made it clear that he hadn’t shaved in about that time, either.

“Blueshift,” Great Barrier said, and there was clear tension in her tone. “This isn’t standard procedure.”

“This isn’t a standard situation,” Blueshift replied. He had an accent that Sabra couldn’t quite place. Something like some of the Arabic friends her father had, but not quite.

“I heard shouting,” he continued. “I thought I would make sure that things were okay in here.” He leaned up against the wall, by the door, arms crossed and made no move to leave. “Please, don’t mind me, continue.”

Great Barrier pulled her gaze from Blueshift and back to Sabra. Her jaw worked left and right. “Yes. Well, returning to the task at hand. Your parents are refugees from North Africa—one unemployed, one a nurse. Yourself, you have a fairly unremarkable history, beyond some oddities in your teenage years.”

“I stole some things,” Sabra said, shrugging. “So what? It never went to court. What’re you going to do, try and bust me for stealing some radios? Statute of limitations in Asclepion’s three years for that.”

“Hah,” Blueshift said. “Smart girl.”

“Mister Blueshift,” Great Barrier said, “I do not need your commentary.”

“Feel free to submit a complaint in writing. It won’t go anywhere, but it might make you feel better.”

“What’s going on here?” Sabra asked, turning in her chair to look at Blueshift. “You’re with SOLAR, right? You were one of the guys who took down Sentinel, aren’t you? Like six weeks ago?”

Blueshift shrugged, uncrossing his arms to hold them wide, and give a little bow at his middle. Might’ve been me, might’ve not.

“Enough,” Barrier snapped. “No, Defiant, this isn’t about petty teenage crime. Beyond the fact that it might form a greater pattern. I found something interesting in your medical records on the way here. When was the last time you woke up somewhere not knowing how you got there?”

Sabra swallowed. No. It was like someone had wrapped her spine in ice, freezing her core, and she focused on her breathing. Couldn’t let herself show that it was a sore point. It was practically ancient history.

“About six weeks ago,” she lied. “Had a long night out to celebrate Blueshift’s work over there.”

“No,” Barrier replied. “It was when you were seventeen. During your teenage years, you have an interesting history of repeated abnormal fugue states and hallucinations across most forms of sensory modality. I came prepared, Defiant. Allow me to remind you.”

She tapped her thumb against the control panel on her side of the table.

“You said you were afraid, Sabra. Let’s go back to that, if you don’t mind. What are you afraid of?”

A warm voice. Doctor Wu. Sabra hadn’t thought about her for years.

“I have these dreams.” It had only been two years, but her voice... She heard the anxiety in her own voice. The memories of sitting there, of wringing her hands on the leather couch...

“Dreams aren’t real, Sabra. They’re just the way the brain stores information.”

“These ones feel pretty fucking real! I— Sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ve heard worse. Tell me about these dreams.”

“They’re hard to describe. I don’t really remember them. It’s just... thoughts, sounds, images. It’s like having pieces of a puzzle, but no picture to assemble them with. Some nights they’re worse than others, because they’re clearer.”

“These thoughts and sounds, these images. How do they make you feel?”

“Small. Like I’m a piece in the puzzle, too. Like something big’s going to happen, and I’m part of it.”

“And these thoughts and sounds, these images, what are they of specifically?”

“Mostly people. I don’t recognize any of them. But they’re shouting my name, but... I think they’re scared of me.”

“You’re a nice young woman, Sabra. Why would anyone be scared of you?”

“I don’t know, and that’s what scares me.”

The recording stopped. Sabra wasn’t sure if it was fear, shame or anger that was percolating in her gut. It might’ve been all of them.

“You can’t use that against me,” she said. “I was a kid with an overactive imagination. I grew out of it. You’re trying to make me sound crazy. No matter what trick you pull, I’m not admitting to anything.”

“Sabra Kasembe,” Great Barrier said, “On the basis that you are a threat to yourself and others, supported by both recent events and information contained in that recording, I have the authority to hold you until such time that you submit to Dynamis testing.”

Sabra was already rising from her chair, the first syllable of a protest leaving her lips, when Blueshift intoned, his voice like iron, “You will not.”

It was like the room had frozen. Great Barrier turned to look at Blueshift while Sabra slowly, very slowly, slumped back down into her uncomfortable chair.

“You no longer have that authority,” Blueshift was saying. “As Aegis informed you, this city is now under SOLAR jurisdiction. Take your case to her, if you are so certain of it, but she will not allow you to use it as a weapon.”

“But—”

“The only thing you are to concern yourself with, Great Barrier, is the operational capability of your unit. Anything else, you will leave to us. Have I made myself absolutely, crystal clear?”

Great Barrier nodded, but the motion was so tense that Sabra felt her head was about to snap off. “Absolutely. I understand.”

“Excellent,” Blueshift said, and his tone snapped back to that lackadaisical lacony. “Now, as I said earlier, please, continue. Don’t mind me, I’m not here.”

Great Barrier’s lips pressed into a thin line, seemingly as much of a sneer as she was willing to express. Sabra scratched at her scalp. Hadn’t Star Patrol been calling the shots? Had SOLAR never left? Or had they come back, and now they were giving the orders?

Sabra chalked herself up another win, even if it was something of a tag team. Just like in the ring, she had momentum now, so it was time to go for another good blow.

“So,” Sabra said. “Am I free to go?”

And then the room shook and even through the soundproofed walls, Sabra was sure she felt the low rumble of something exploding. Blueshift’s attention snapped to the door.

“What was that?” Sabra asked.

Great Barrier didn’t reply. She had one finger at her ear, listening to something.

“Is this another trick?” Sabra watched Great Barrier’s face for any sign of concern. “I’m not fooled.”

Great Barrier was as still as glass, her focus entirely on whatever she was listening to. For a moment, her attention returned to Sabra; her voice concerned, “You really don’t know about this?”

Sabra felt her expression drop. That concerned tone flipped everything upside down, and suddenly Sabra knew that something was very wrong.

“Know about what?”

“You really don’t know,” Great Barrier said, sounding astonished. “This isn’t a trick, Defiant. We’re under attack.”