“Huh?” Rocke blinked as he stood up from his thin, bare mattress. Total darkness had enveloped him, making him fear he’d gone blind for a second. But as his eyes adjusted, vague shapes outlined themselves.
“Is the power out?” Even when the facility’s lights dimmed for nighttime, they still provided ample illumination to see. Now, not even the emergency lights were working. What was going on?
In the darkness, other prisoners muttered to themselves, just as confused as Rocke. Guards were cursing and chatting amongst themselves about what they should do next.
“Hey, Rocke,” Stern whispered from the next cell. “What do you think is happening?”
“Not sure,” Rocke replied.
A spark of hope flared in his heart. Had someone attacked the facility? Did that mean rescue was close? Rocke found no other reasonable explanation for the bizarre power loss. He sent a silent prayer to the Sovereign that this was true. It had become Rocke’s habit to pray whenever his emotions became turbulent, or he got depressed. It offered him solace during the rough hours.
With tentative steps, he approached the cell door. It creaked as he pushed against it, but refused to budge. His hands wandered over the locking mechanism, but found it too difficult to move. Oh well, it had been a desperate hope. He’d need something like a crowbar to force the door open.
Someone howled a bestial roar. Metal squealed as a tremendous force pushed against it. What the heck was that? In the dark, Rocke saw a ragged figure in a nearby cell push against his door with incredible force. The squealing became louder as the door succumbed to the man’s impossible strength and determination. With a snap, the lock broke, and the cell door swung open.
“Huh?!” Wasn’t that Nitao’s cell? How did the Konquellian do that? “Hey, um, mind helping a guy out?” And Rocke wasn’t the only prisoner to ask for assistance.
“Hey, get back into your cell, Konquellian trash!” a guard yelled, baton raised. It didn’t flare to life with electricity, so Rocke guessed it wasn’t working either. Were not even the guard robots working?
The poor guy didn’t last long against Nitao’s fury, the bars of Rocke’s cell denting as the guard struck hard against it.
“Hey!” More guards rushed to assist, but Nitao had already fled, so they followed in hot pursuit.
“That was something.” So much for any escape attempt. Again, he tried replicating Nitao’s trick, but the door refused to budge. Defeated, but not surprised, Rocke sat on his bed, waiting for whatever would happen to happen. The rest lay in the Sovereign’s hands.
Minutes passed as Rocke waited in the dark, some prisoners were making a ruckus trying to make their own path to freedom. But their efforts were in vain, failing like Rocke had to free themselves. Then a commotion caught his attention, the sound of approaching footfalls, multiple ones. He strained his ears, hearing faint whispers. He gasped in shock, recognizing the voices.
“Over here,” Rocke whispered, his voice emphatic.
“There he is, Rocke!” Kallane said, rushing into view. Though blocky night-vision goggles blocked her face, he’d recognized her anywhere.
“You’re behind this?” Rocke asked, amazed. He’d hoped, but this was beyond anything he’d ever expected.
“The Sovereign’s will, lad,” another familiar voice said, laughing.
“Matthias too? You’re all crazy!” But Rocke laughed with him. “What’s your plan to help me escape?”
“Don’t worry, I got this,” Dallas said, crowbar in hand. With a grunt, the door squealed open.
“This is easier than I expected.” Behind her goggles, Kallane furrowed her brow. “Where are the guards? They can’t all be sleeping!”
“I’ll explain later,” Around him, other prisoners pleaded for their freedom. Rocke sympathized with them, but they lacked the time to free everyone. He imagined it wouldn’t take long to restore power.
In the darkness, Rocke’s eyes met Stern’s. “Best leave, lad. I’ll be fine. Heck, it might look better for me if I stayed instead of escaping.”
“If you’re sure,” Rocke said reluctantly.
“Positive. Get going. I doubt Nitao’s distraction will last long,” Stern said.
“Okay.” Though it pained him, Rocke respected Stern’s decision. Besides, the police were only holding Stern for a minor charge. He’d get out soon enough. “When they release you, flee the city. Maybe even the country. Things will get bad soon.” Huh? Why had he said that? But Stern gave a nod of understanding.
“This way!” A man Rocke didn’t recognize called. In his hand was a tablet, its screen faintly glowing. “This should be the quickest way out.”
“Gah!” Rocke grimaced as his shin struck the edge of a table. Cloaked in darkness, he hadn’t seen it. “Hey, give me one of those night-vision goggles. I can’t see anything!”
“Sorry, Rocke, but we could only procure four of them. Just bear it with it,” Kallane said sheepishly.
“Wonderful,” Rocke said, annoyed, dodging around another table. They’d entered a guard station, the gate wide open. Even in the dark, Rocke could tell that someone had forced open the gate. Two guards sat slumped against a wall, their breathing steady as they lay there unconscious. “How far is the exit?”
“We’re pretty deep inside, but not far,” Kallane replied. “Stay close. This building is maze-like.”
“Hey, another prisoner has escaped!” Rocke heard from where they’d come. With rushed steps, they moved forward before someone noticed them.
They tried to move quickly and silently, but Rocke’s lack of clear vision caused him to stumble into his allies more than once. The outside wasn’t any brighter, a murky fog was visible through the windows.
“This way!” The man who called himself Jamar said. “There’s a fire exit down this hallway.”
“Home free, perfect!” Kallane said, beaming.
As if to mock her words, a large figure moved to block their path. In the dim light of a light wand, a familiar, bulky figure stood before them. From his smile, Police Chief Rolf seemed pleased with himself. Behind him stood six officers, each wearing a malevolent grin.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
“You’re mighty resourceful. I’ll give you that,” Rolf said. “But you’re mistaken if you think you and your Demon buddies are leaving this building in one piece, Daliven.”
“I do what I must,” the prophet replied. “We protect our own. I won’t let this boy suffer for my sake.”
“Guts. I rather like that about you, holy man, but foolish. Still, I’m an understanding man,” Rolf replied. “Surrender now? You’re locked up with a broken jaw. Resist, and you’re leaving as a corpse.”
The officers behind the police chief raised gleaming metal objects, but they were unlike any laser weapon Rocke had ever seen before. Was it some sort of weapon that worked without power?
“Well, you’re not getting him!” Kallane shouted back, ignoring the threats. “How about coming and getting him, eh?”
“That’s not helping.” His friend had thrown oil on an already volatile situation. Why must that woman be so hotheaded?
“You know our answer,” Matthias said, his voice firm.
This earned an unpleasant smile from Rolf that froze Rocke’s blood cold. “Get them, boys. Be none too gentle. Shoot to kill if necessary.”
“Scatter, now! Keep low,” Matthias said, words frantic.
Rocke did as instructed, ducking into a nearby alcove. A loud sound made him flinch, a crack echoing through the empty hallways. What was that? From the lack of any pained screams, nobody had gotten hit.
“What was that, Larks! You missed that big guy completely!” Rolf admonished.
“Sorry, sir. I wasn’t ready for the recoil!” an officer said. More weapons fired, almost deafening Rocke.
“This way!” Kallane dragged him away by the collar. Without night-vision goggles, Rocke was running blind and allowed the Ottoman woman to guide him behind a corner. Steps pursued them, an officer raising his baton to bash Rocke senseless. But the massive Dallas clotheslined their attacker with his muscular arms, hurling them painfully to the tiled floor.
“If you want them, you’ll need to get past me,” Dallas said, arms crossed.
“You!” Another officer raised his weapon to fire, but a body was hurled into him and the pair collapsed in a heap. Rocke marveled at how strong the Ottoman man was. He’d lifted the fallen officer with one arm.
The other officers engaged, but Jamar struck out with a palm, hitting one in the chin. Another pulled out his gun. There was the now familiar cracking sound but the projectile struck a wall harmlessly as Jamar jerked the officer’s arm to the side. A skull to the nose drove the man to his knees before getting knocked unconscious by a following kick.
“These guys are just bullies. They don’t know how to fight,” the skeletal man said, pleased.
But Rolf, who’d been watching the exchange, only snorted. “You’ve got some fight in you! Good.” The big man cracked his neck from side to side and rolled his shoulders. “It’s been a while since I’ve cut loose.” The police chief didn’t bother with a gun or even a baton—he engaged the two Ottomans with only his fists.
Despite being outnumbered, Rolf matched the two combatants easily. While Dallas was huge, the police chief was even larger. The pair wrestled, but Rolf easily overpowered him. The police chief threw Dallas against a pillar, cracking it and dazing the large man. Jamar launched himself at the cop, attempting to disable his opponent with debilitating palm strikes, but Rolf was swift on his feet.
What should have struck a vulnerable point hit Rolf’s hard abs instead, deflecting the blow with ease. Jamar howled in pain as Rolf drove a knee into his chest, knocking the air out of him. Another kick took the man out of the fight entirely, rendering him unconscious.
“Holy!” Rolf really knew how to fight! Rocke watched helplessly as Dallas got the stuffing kicked out of him.
“We have to get out of here!” Kallane pulled at his prison jumper, her tone urgent.
“But—!” Rocke hesitated, not wanting to abandon the ones who’d risked their lives to help him.
“I’m afraid we have no choice, lad,” Matthias said, his tone grim.
“My mom’s distraction won’t last forever,” Kallane added, more insistent. “She’s keeping the other police busy, but someone’s bound to come soon.”
“Damn it.” Rocke cursed, but couldn’t argue against that. He allowed his friends to guide him toward the exit, a pang of guilt turning his stomach. He hadn’t known Dallas or Jamar for long, but they were brave men.
Rocke jerked back as Dallas almost collided with him, barely missing by a hair. The big man was bruised, bloody, and barely conscious.
“You aren’t going anywhere.” As if to punctuate the police chief’s words the lights flashed on. Rocke flinched, his eyes too accustomed to the darkness.
“Oh crap!” Kallane cursed, throwing away her night vision goggles.
“Perfect,” Rolf said, pleased. “As usual, Halkken gets the job done. Let’s hope it’s as easy to restore the guard robots to full function.”
“Sovereign preserve us!” Rocke muttered.
“No, we haven’t lost yet,” Matthias said, his resolve hardening. “Run, run for all it’s worth.”
Despite the hopelessness of the situation, something in the old prophet’s voice pushed Rocke forward. He took off at a full sprint, letting his feet guide him.
“Still fighting, eh?” Rolf said, more amused than worried. He motioned to give chase, but Dallas tackled him from behind. The big Ottoman hasn’t lost yet. Rocke didn’t wait to see the contest’s result, taking a right turn at full speed.
“Here!” Kallane pointed at a door labeled “Fire Escape.” It warned that opening it would trigger an alarm, but that was the least of their concerns. Rocke charged into the door, hand ready to press the release handle.
Pain rippled through his shoulder as he collided with the door, wincing as two other bodies crashed into him.
“What gives?” Rocke pushed against the door release again, but it refused to budge. Was it stuck?
“Foolish, so foolish!” a smug voice said, amused by their failure. “Did you really think I’d let you escape so easily?”
“Hey, open this door!” Rocke pushed against it with all his strength, but it refused to budge. Kallane and Matthias threw in their weight, but it still refused to yield.
“Go ahead! Push harder. It still won’t work!” A screen floated above them, showing a rather smug Phú. “I control all the doors. Pity for you. That’s what you get, criminal scum.”
“Come on!” Escape was so close!
“In this station, I’m God! Decider of life and death. Remember what I told you?” Phú said, her tone nasty and vengeful. “The guard robots should arrive in about thirty-three seconds. Chief Rolf will be upset about all the bloodstains, but oh well! Still, if you abandon your silly, made-up god and worship me, I might show you mercy.”
Terror spiked through Rocke’s spine as the guard robots came into view. Their bodies gleamed black like midnight, their arms decked out with the latest destructive weaponry. A singular, cold red eye gazed upon them, cold and ruthless.
Phú laughed, pausing her attack robots so she could savor her victims’ helplessness. Her smile turned devilish as she grinned. “Open fire!”
Rocke winced as a red bolt flew past his scalp, singing his hair. He ducked, barely avoiding getting blasted to pieces. Desperate, he rushed toward a nearby hallway, but pain reverberated through his body as a guard robot intercepted him with impossible speed. It towered over him, and fear spiked through his spine as it aimed its weapon at his forehead.
“Rocke!” Kallane swung a wild fist at the nearest guard robot, but it dodged with contemptuous ease. The Ottoman woman howled in pain as a bolt struck her in the chest. She collapsed to the ground, her breathing labored. The robot shot another bolt into her chest for good measure, leaving her body deathly still.
“Huh, so that’s what two full-power stun bolts do to a person! Good to know!” Phú said cheerfully.
“That wasn’t necessary,” Matthias said, seething with righteous fury. Somehow, he’d avoided the sporadic laser fire. “You have us beat.”
“I don’t like people like you.” Phú said, her voice cold. “You tell the public we’re wrong, that the state doesn’t know what’s best for them. I plan on showing everyone how weak and pointless you all are. The Sovereign can’t protect anyone—only we can. Have fun, my pets.”
“Matthias!” Rocke watched in helpless fury as a guard robot decked his friend across the face with a metal fist. It didn’t stop there, beating him senseless. Phú watched with glee, delighting in her victim’s helplessness. Rocke wanted to stop the madness, but the guard robot’s weapon made it clear he’d suffer Kallane’s fate if he tried anything.
“You’re wrong,” Matthias said, spitting out blood. He sported a nasty bruise across his face, one eye swollen shut. “You? A goddess? Don’t make me laugh. You’re an instrument of cruelty. You say you fight to protect people? Then why is it no one feels safe around you?”
“Shut up. I won’t let a dead man lecture me,” Phú replied. She had her guard robots shoot multiple rounds of high-powered stun bolts into the prophet. They swiveled away from him, caring little if he lived or died.
“And now you, Rocke. The main course,” Phú said, her synthesized smile unpleasant. “How should I punish you?”
A pit dropped in Rocke’s stomach as the guard robots focused their attention on him. Despite their lack of faces, they seemed to smile with malevolent glee. Ignoring the weapons pointed at him, Rocke stood tall and glared at his tormentors. If he was about to die, he refused to beg for his life.
This only elicited an eye roll from the AI. “Humans. Whatever, just finish him—I don’t care anymore.”
Energy gathered in the guard robots’ blasters, but Rocke stood his ground, bracing himself for whatever agony awaited him.
Before they could strike, a movement caught Rocke’s attention. It was his only warning, and Rocke ducked, covering his head. Glass shattered as bullets tore through the robots’ eye stalks. Having lost their vision, the guard robots fired their lasers wildly. Rocke winced as one shot flew past his ear.
“Hey! Calm down!” Phú shouted, annoyed. “Fire that way!”
But before the robots could regroup, their rescuer charged into the fray, howling like a banshee. Nitao’s eyes gleamed as he entered the battle, eager to engage. Unlike Rolf’s men, the Konquellian knew how to handle an old-fashioned gun with expert precision. The robots tried firing back, back Nitao was quicker. Several shots to the chest units disabled their functionality as Nitao scored hit after hit. In a matter of seconds, two were already heaps of scrap metal.
“You idiots! Fight better!” Phú’s protests were in vain as her forces were decimated. “You’re not getting away with this!”
Nitao ignored her threats and, with a powerful kick, broke down the armored fire door. Rocke stared, marveling at the Konquellian’s strength.
“You’d better hurry. They’ll have reinforcements soon,” Nitao said, speaking for the first time. His voice was rough, like he was unused to speaking. He gestured to the open door before disappearing outside.
Phú continued to hurl insults and threats, her language foul enough to make Rocke’s ears burn.
He ignored the AI and helped Kallane to her feet. “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” Kallane said, clutching her chest but appearing capable of standing. The prophet, however, was in terrible shape. It took the two of them to carry him outside to whatever fate awaited them in the world beyond.