We couldn’t go through with it.
Vincent’s instincts screamed at him to hide, to remain still, to do anything but charge headlong into the dark hallway with its ominous red lights, but he knew those instincts were wrong. Keeping low to the ground, he crept forward, trying to make as little sound as possible. He was grateful to find that there didn’t appear to be any cameras nearby, but reminded himself not to get complacent.
As he approached the first door, he strained his ears for the sounds of the guards. He knew he needed to get out of this open corridor as quickly as possible, but he also had no idea where he was going. He had to check everything, and so he peeked through the small window, inching his way up so as not to draw the eye.
It looked like a break room, and it was currently unoccupied. Just a fridge, cabinets, and chairs, but he made a note of it as a potential hiding place in an emergency, then moved on. The next two rooms were completely dark inside, and Vincent dismissed them for now–if he needed to come back, he would, but he was determined to find the guards first.
He didn’t need to wait long, as the next door with light streaming through its window rewarded him with a view of a single guard, staring at a wall of monitors. Vincent couldn’t be certain, but from the smell of secondhand smoke he suspected this was the man he’d followed inside.
The room may have had the information Vincent needed, but he had already decided that fighting the guards would be a last resort. Relieved that at least one known enemy was now accounted for, he moved deeper into the facility.
He soon encountered a stairwell leading to the lower levels, and noticed some vague signage indicating what was down there. ‘Processing’ and ‘Pending’ told him almost nothing, but he suspected he now knew his destination. He quickly completed scouting the upper level, all the while prepared to disappear through one of the doors if he heard any guards.
The rest of the rooms he could see into turned out to be a combination of offices and supply rooms, and Vincent considered that this place must be packed during the day. At last content that there were likely no other surprises being left at his back, he returned to the stairwell, and quietly went down, painfully aware of his own vulnerability.
The stairwell ended at another hallway–this one better lit. There turned out to be only a single basement floor, evidently for both Processing and Pending, and with little to go by, he followed the sign labeled ‘Pending’ to his left. There was more space down here, and the hall was littered with discarded equipment he didn’t recognize, as well as gurneys and other things that looked somewhat medical in nature.
There were numerous doors down here as well, but spaced further apart, and it wasn’t long before he heard voices coming from somewhere ahead. Steeling his nerves, Vincent kept moving, finding the first door leading to another dark room. As he moved closer to the second, it became clear that it was the source of the voices.
Every so slowly, Vincent approached the window, and looked through. Two men were inside talking, and he thought they were guards, though their combat gear was missing, and their dark uniforms had their sleeves rolled up. The room was more of a cell than anything else, complete with stained padded walls, and the bare essentials for keeping a single person alive.
Vincent couldn’t see past the two men, but he heard groaning, and had strong suspicions. “Have you ever even seen this work? This is some seriously dark shit if not,” said the closer of the two.
“Not often, but it can. I was on Last Chance Row myself. Trust me,” said the second.
“You have to be joking. They did this to you and you’re still willing to do it to someone else?” came the first, who’d begun pacing, clearing Vincent’s view. Randy Sullivan was hanging from the wall by chains, and his shirt was missing, revealing a torso covered in blood and bruises.
“Of course I am!” said the second man, who was wiping even more blood from his face and shaved head with a rag. “We’re doing these kids a favor. If they don’t Manifest now, they’ll end up as Beta addicts if they’re lucky,” his voice was deep and gruff, but matter of fact.
“I get it, ‘Last Chance’ and all, but still…they’re kids, Roy. I used to see this one at the Pledge.” Vincent shook his head in understanding. Randy had supposedly been dismissed last month for never Manifesting, not even as a Basic. Everyone believed he was home by now…but he was here.
“They’re not kids, Jacob, they’re potential heroes,” he laughed, “or at least, potential army grunts or guardsmen. But still,” he said, looking the other man in the eye, “you can’t think of them as kids.” He punctuated this claim by turning and punching Randy rapidly three times in the side, and the light-haired boy coughed and wheezed, but otherwise didn’t stir.
Vincent could barely control himself. Were all the ‘dismissed’ students actually brought down here? He had to imagine they were, and his eyes were drawn to more than a dozen other rooms lining the hall. This was the fate he had unknowingly been trying to arrange for himself, Danny, and his sister.
If Lucia hadn’t Manifested, they might have made it another six months, or even a year. But if so, he would have been responsible for the two people closest to him ending up chained and tortured in a basement, praying to Manifest, exactly what they’d been avoiding.
Rage was threatening to overwhelm him, and Vincent made himself breath, and think logically. He quickly checked the hall again to make sure he was still alone, then looked back into Randy’s cell. It seemed like ‘Roy’ and ‘Jacob’ were in the middle of their work, so he risked moving farther down the hall.
He confirmed the next three cells were used for the same purpose, though only the first one was occupied, this time by a student he didn’t recognize. The girl was sitting on a ragged cot, staring forward with her mouth hanging open, and there was blood staining the walls. Vincent briefly considered some kind of rescue, but knew it would be incredibly foolish and doomed to fail.
Instead he began back toward the stairwell. If these students were ‘Pending’ Manifestation, he had to assume ‘Processing’ was where he’d find what he needed. As he approached Randy’s cell, however, things grew more complicated. “You didn’t hear that?” asked the higher voice belonging to Jacob.
“I was busy doing our job. Make yourself useful and go check it out. You never know when one of our guests might Manifest; it isn’t always during our administrations.” Vincent scrambled forward, wondering if he could get to the stairs before the guard emerged, but throwing away the hope immediately–it was too far, and provided no real place to hide.
Once more relying on luck, he opened the first door he’d encountered, scrambling into the dark room, and quietly shutting the door behind him–just as he heard the sound of another opening. He quickly turned on the dim display on his KD, which barely illuminated a small area in front of him.
He wasn’t in a cell, though the room’s purpose was still beyond him. He moved forward while trying to block the light from reaching the door behind him, and quickly reached the far wall, which housed a number of small doors, stacked floor to ceiling. Abruptly he knew where he was, and made the only decision he could under the circumstances.
Grabbing a few handles, he found each locked, and panic started to rise inside him. He heard Jacob’s loud voice as he desperately searched, “Nothing going on in the cells, Roy, gonna check the morgue, then do a quick patrol of Processing.” Vincent knew he was out of time, and shut off his K-Device as a glowing green copy of his right hand reached out and twisted the closest handle, the lock breaking with a thankfully quiet snap!
Vincent opened the door as quickly as he could, then used it as leverage to dive feet-first into the open drawer. It was more difficult than he’d hoped, as this drawer was occupied. Ignoring his own disgust, he shimmied his way down while shutting the door behind him, hearing the guardsman coming in just as he did so.
Sound was muffled inside the cold drawer, and his own ragged breathing seemed to echo in the small space. He could feel a large, lumpy body beneath him, and it took all his concentration not to give in to anxiety and terror as he summoned all the willpower he possessed to keep himself from moving.
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Ever since the night he’d lost his mother, Vincent had felt anesthetized to fear, and to strong emotion in general–if he was being honest with himself. But there were exceptions, and right now he was trapped in his worst nightmare.
The sounds of the guard walking through the morgue searching for him were nothing compared to his mind’s absolute certainty that the walls were closing in around him. He was trapped in a small space, with a cold, dead body pressed against him, and his rational mind couldn’t push aside the insane notion that the body belonged to his mother.
His attempts to control his breathing were failing terribly, and he was now hyperventilating, the cold air burning his lungs as his body began to shake. There was a tense feeling in his chest, as if he were having a heart attack, and he was quickly losing all grasp on reality.
The logical voice in his head, normally so dominant, seemed like a distant whisper as it told him over and over that he needed to be calm, needed to stay still. Instead he knew he had seconds left in him at best, as every inch of his body was desperately fighting to escape this hell.
Help me, Vincent…whispered a voice from his memory.
Please, Vincent…you’re the only one who can.
At last he couldn’t hold on any longer, and with a powerful push with his legs against the inner wall, the entire sliding drawer went flying outward, the door’s broken lock offering no resistance. He rolled off the drawer and landed on the floor, gasping and just barely holding in a scream, no thought given to how he was going to deal with the guard.
It took him several seconds to realize that he was still in darkness, and he forced his eyes upward to see that the door was closed, with only the tiniest bit of light leaking through its window. Jacob had apparently taken only a cursory look inside, then left. Relief rushed through Vincent’s body, but the anxiety faded much more slowly, and it took him a few minutes to drag himself from the floor.
He stayed low, not wanting to take any chances, knowing that he would never be able to bring himself to hide in this place again. At last he felt in control of himself enough to resume his mission, and he shakily reached up to slide the drawer back in. He paused though, as his hand reached toward the body in the dark.
He knew it wasn’t his mother. She had died a dozen years ago in another place…but he knew he wouldn’t be able to banish the nightmare completely if he didn’t prove it to himself. Grabbing his K-Device from his pocket, he turned the dim screen back on, and his eyebrows raised in surprise.
Of course it wasn’t his mother, but he did know this person. It belonged to Gary Sawatzki, and it was the boy’s sunken face that he was looking at. The revelation brought up complex emotions in the already shaken Vincent, and he found himself scanning the room, and scooping up a clipboard when he found one.
He was disgusted as his eyes scanned the list, each name belonging to a student, many he’d known personally. The cause of death listed for nearly everyone was ‘Manifestation Assistance’, and his mind went to the blood stains on the cell walls as anger rose up within him.
There was an exception, however, as he found Gary’s name. It read: ‘Undiagnosed brain injury incurred during Power Demonstration’, and Vincent let out a small sigh. This meant they weren’t looking for a murderer at least, though he knew he’d need to process the fact that he was one at a later time.
Pushing that realization from his mind, he replaced the clipboard and returned Gary to the cold darkness of the drawer, closing it behind him. Inspecting the handle showed that it was clearly broken, the metal even bent into the shape of his spectral grip. It was too late now: someone would be sure to discover this eventually, and he knew he needed to adjust his plans accordingly.
Vincent moved to the door, and pressed his face against the glass to try to see as far as he could in either direction down the hallway. He peeked his head out a moment later, thankfully alone, and closed the door soundlessly a moment later. He quickly made his way back to the cell, and was relieved to see both guards back at their grizzly task.
Knowing that the risk was growing with each passing moment, Vincent hurried back in the other direction, hoping he’d find his answers quickly. Processing turned out to be almost a mirror image of the Pending wing, except the cells on this side were apparently occupied by students that had already Manifested, one way or another.
Vincent quickly scanned the K-Tablets built into the walls next to each cell, which listed names and powers, as well as the current status of the occupant. Eliza Trenton could fly, though she was now listed as comatose. Tyler Booker was a Basic, though he was bedridden from two broken legs. The list went on, and Vincent was surprised by how many there were, but he considered that several students did leave each month, even if the circumstances were rarely broadcast.
The one thing that was consistent in the records of each student was that they were on a Gamma cleanse, and this at last provided Vincent the opportunity he needed. He pulled out the vials he’d brought with him, and began tossing a few through the small slots used for delivering meals in each cell as he went by.
Some of the occupants would be able to reach them, though most weren’t able to walk for one reason or another. That was fine; he wanted them to be found. This way, when it was discovered that someone broke in, it would be obvious that the ‘someone’ had a great deal of Gamma to spare–as if they’d just robbed the Campus stores, for instance.
Vincent was smiling as he dumped the last of his Gamma into the final cell, his eyes locked on the K-Tablet nearby. He was memorizing what he’d read when a rough voice sounded behind him. “Well, well, it looks like Jacob wasn’t hearing things after all.”
Vincent spun around to find he was staring up at the large guard who’d been enthusiastically beating Randy back in the cell. The bald man was remarkably quiet for his size, as Vincent had heard no warning of his approach. “I’ve seen you before, runt. We caught you on camera at the Gamma stores. What the hell do you think you’re doing here?”
Vincent didn’t answer, instead pulling the piece of rebar from where he’d tucked it into his pant leg while he searched. This was bad, but the disguise was working at least. The guard burst into a deep belly laugh when he spotted the small ‘weapon’, and Vincent wasn’t surprised.
The guards were well trained, even if this one didn’t have his combat gear with him, and Vincent was obviously just a student–and a slight one at that. His mind raced as he looked past the larger man, confirming that the other guard was absent. Vincent was feeling more than a little dangerous himself, right now, having just been uncomfortably close to the results of the last time he’d used his power as a Specter against another human.
“Brandishing a weapon against a guard? Thank you for making this nice and legal for me,” Roy said, and Vincent prepared himself for violence. It was clear a moment later, though, that this fight would be more complicated than he expected.
The guard’s right shoulder suddenly expanded with a sickening crunch, followed by his left leg. Next his head was bent to one side as part of his upper back bulged with rippling muscle. Vincent’s eyes widened; he knew what was happening, and it was decidedly bad.
He had no intention of sitting back to wait for the man to finish his gruesome transformation, and the next time part of the man bulged and flexed, Vincent put all of his strength into swinging the rebar at the guard’s untransformed right knee. There was a horrifying crack, and Roy’s leg collapsed beneath him. Strangely though he didn’t utter a sound, and Vincent looked up in confusion, only to see that the man’s neck was currently inflating with muscle, and his mouth was soundlessly screaming.
There was no time to waste, and Vincent leaped over top of the hobbled guard, his light weight and enhanced muscles making it easy to clear the superhuman hurdle. He landed lightly behind the furious man, and took off at a sprint, desperate to reach the stairwell and get away from this horrible place. He didn’t pause to look back as he rounded the corner and began taking the steps three at a time.
A deep, terrible roar sounded from below as Vincent emerged into the dark hallway of the first floor, and he pushed himself even harder as he moved toward the exit. A door up ahead opened, light spilling into the hallway, and the smoker turned with just enough time to mutter, “What the hell–” before Vincent’s shoulder slammed into the guard’s stomach.
The man went down in a heap, and Vincent scrambled up and past him before the smoker could collect himself. As the exit blessedly came within reach, Vincent involuntarily turned around at another roar, and the sound of metal screeching as it bent. Roy was there, forcing his gigantic, twisted frame through the too-small door leading out of the stairwell, and the walls were buckling and cracking around him.
Vincent’s eyes widened from within the red mask, and he began backing away, unable to pull his gaze away from the sight. Finally the guard managed to burst through, and began lumbering and limping down the hallway. His impossibly broad shoulders were brushing against both sides of the hallway, and he had his hands spread out and trailing behind him, enormous misshapen fingers digging deep gouges into the walls as he advanced.
Vincent felt the door behind him and fumbled for the handle as more bestial growls echoed toward him. The smoker managed to sit up just in time to mutter, “Oh for the love of–” before the raging behemoth trampled him and left a pile of debris and ruined walls in his wake.
Vincent at last managed to find the handle, and he threw the door open and raced through, a primal terror running through him as he turned his back on the eight foot monster that was half running, half dragging itself toward him. The open air was like the sweet release of freedom, and Vincent wasted no time rushing down the stairs and retreating from the building with all the speed he had.
It had been a horrible trial, but he’d done it. He’d accomplished his mission. He knew the exact day they’d be escaping this death sentence disguised as a school, and he’d even managed to implicate the Gamma thief along the way. Now he just needed to–
Vincent’s ears were ringing from the explosion, and he found it nearly impossible to draw breath. He was on the ground, though he didn’t remember falling. Slowly he managed to roll over, consciousness threatening to abandon him at any moment. A deep, gnarled voice echoed out around him, though Vincent could barely hear it over the ringing.
“I’m coming for you, little thief!” screamed the disfigured and grotesquely proportioned guard, standing at the center of a ten foot burning crater where the building’s door had been. Some part of Vincent’s mind dispassionately thought, Interesting, he has a second power, and then he forced his injured body off the cobblestone ground, and ran.
The monster was coming.