76°00'08.2"S 53°43'31.2"E - Nuevo Trujillo, Spanish Antarctic Colonies

26.05.2024 09:40, UTC+03:00

This Curse was not unknown to me. In fact, there is a whole class in the T-Agent Academy just about that whole category of Curses: Name Curses, or Reaper Curses. Rare enough to be considered invaluable, but common enough to be a liability.

Tapping into the connection of our personality with the world, Name Curses operate just on knowing someone’s full name. Usually deadly or at the very least frightening, Name Curses are the reasons all levels of T-Agents only know our first names or nicknames. It is the same reason most people prefer to stay anonymous, or operate under aliases.

Upper brass had insisted on calling me Soothsayer since Elena was too commonplace to make sense, but I had rejected it. I hated the sound of that skill defining me on a formal level, although I could now see the irony of it: apparently I had more Curses than this, holding an infamous Reaper Curse.

My bullet flew true that morning, and I could see my intention riding on it. It was a named bullet; perhaps some wards would be powerful enough to hold it back, but not this mere invisibility glamour. I hit right into his heart.

It felt like an arm grabbing the thread of his very existence, aiming to cut it. Like a guitar cord, I strained it, expecting it to snap. Something held me back.

I heard fingers snap.

“I got him! I grabbed him!” Miguel yelled running towards me.

The man named Oriol appeared out of the glamour a few hundred meters away and dropped unconscious. The other man, the so-called Survivor was running even further away. Before I could even aim again, he had gone into other alleys, far from our sight.

Miguel ran up to me. I was standing next to Gitana’s dead body.

“What happened here, who is this?” Miguel asked.

Gitana’s body was lying next to the wall, her face completely unrecognizable by the entry and exit wound of the bullet that sealed her fate. The picture was rather graphic and gory; her blood had an off-black-greyish color, covering most of her upper body.

Miguel went closer, and I did not stop him.

“What… is this blood?”

It was ink. It had to be. Gitana was cursed in more ways than just insight, apparently. And now she was really dead, although that wasn’t news to Miguel.

“A civilian,” I answered, knowing that it would be too difficult for me to explain. Miguel knew Gitana died during the Blackout, her chip implant supposedly exploding.

I thought your head exploded, I had told her a few minutes ago.

This might be how it is drawn I die.

“She was random. Nobody. An unfortunate casualty,” I said. Miguel was already ignoring me and running ahead.

I followed walking slowly. This was my chance to process things: was I to trust Miguel?

I dismissed the idea. I did not know how far-reaching consequences my soothsaying had; how many times the Royals had used my Curse, and with what intention. What if they had implanted fail-safes in people’s memories?

Was that what happened with Gitana maybe? Her Insight was strong, but something triggered her disappearance during the Blackout. Now I knew all I was told was a lie about those days; but most importantly, the one who could uncover the rest of my sealed memories was forming an ink puddle in the street.

The young man moaned in agony, as Miguel restrained him.

“No need to scream,” Miguel barked at him, “I am holding on to your Thread. My companion is a great aim – but I am even better at snatching people’s souls.”

“Oriol Romero,” I said to the man as I drew close, “you are arrested for murder, crimes against the stability of the Domain, conspiring against the Crown, terrorism, and a shit load of stuff that there is no lawyering yourself out of.”

The man screamed again.

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“Yeah, thing is,” Miguel explained to me as he was rising him up to stand, “I can only stop him from dying. The bullet is still inside him. That’s a lot of pain I can’t stop.”

I did not hesitate.

“There is nothing to fear. You are not in pain.” I said. My voice reached out to him and all his nerve pain endings shut down immediately.

The man stopped screaming and caught his breath. After a moment of assessment, he started struggling and fighting around.

Miguel let him free, albeit handcuffed. I packed my gun in my belt, unnecessary as it was. We both just stood there and watched him.

The man looked at us perplexed, as he struggled to release his hands from his shackles. Failing to do so, then attempted to step away. Miguel raised his arm, ready to snap his fingers, as if grabbing an invisible thread.

“Ah-ah-ah! Remember?” Miguel said, and Oriol fell on his knees, “Bullet in the chest, and these fingers keeping you alive mate.”

He looked up towards us, in surrender.

I tapped my earpiece: “Elena and Miguel to T-HQ, we need Agents on St. Martin Street. San Isidro. An arrest was made, and the Survivor was sighted.” I tapped it again.

“Good job Agent,” I said to Miguel. He smiled back.

“Nah. It was all them doing the job for me, deciding to be here. What? Did you miss mommy and daddy?” Miguel mocked Oriol.

Oriol remained kneeling and looking at us. He turned and looked around, and then back at us. He smiled.

“Why are you smiling dummy? Maybe you overdid it with the soothing Ela,” Miguel said.

“Don’t call me Ela.”

Something was wrong. I only held back the pain, but the man clearly was not worried anymore. I looked around. We were on a small side-street next, between the tall San Isidro buildings. Ready for an ambush, if that was the case.

I took my gun out.

“We are here in ninety, over,” I heard the message from my earpiece. Miguel chuckled.

“I would love to see your face, once we get you to HQ,”

“BERMELLON!” voices yelled, and I readied my gun. Miguel did as well – but to no point. Everything turned blue and grey around us.

“Smoke grenades!” I yelled. Green lasers pierced the smoke: they were armed and aiming. Whether this was an ambush, or they came here to save this man, we would not be able to figure out unless we survived this. I rushed to our captive, not to lose him from my sight.

He was still kneeling unmoving right in front of us. I could hear ropes and people jumping; they were falling from the balconies. Their extraction plan was clear.

“You don’t know who you are messing with,” I whispered. I grabbed his head from the chin, wiping his terrorist smile off.

“You don’t know either,” a woman’s voice pierced the blue smoke, “Let him go.”

She appeared from the smokescreen. She wore no armor: only a layered deep-purple robe with long sleeves. Her face was hidden behind a simple rectangular mask, leaving only her eyes visible.

I raised my gun and aimed right at her face. I pulled the trigger, only for my gun to jam. By the time I pulled it again, she had stepped lightly right, my bullet firing into nothing. I smirked, and grabbed my second gun through left hand, and quickly shooting the mysterious woman.

With a push of her hand, both she and Oriol ducked. I could hear gunshots around me, but I could only hope Miguel could take care of himself.

I was not going to lose focus. I needed any answers for anything and this captive was my best bet. I was now in control. Plus, if I could stop a second Breach or another Blackout, that could let me then solve Gitana’s visions.

“You are a danger to this Domain!” I yelled as I aimed to kick Oriol in the face. The masked woman stepped to the side and watched me trip instead of hitting my kick.

I did a small jump and landed gracefully enough to show off a bit. I pulled both triggers: one gun misfired, and the other shot her in the shoulder.

“Enough!” I yelled, and then tuned into my Soothsaying, “You are all safe and in peace now.” It felt like cheating, but that was enough for me to win any fight.

Gunshots stopped. The woman in front of me sighed, the wound on her shoulder visibly bleeding.

“I am always safe,” she said and drew a long blade hidden in her robe. It looked like a traditional fencing rapier. She lunged at me, piercing on my left hand and letting one of my guns drop.

I had underestimated everyone. That was my mistake. This Oriol and the Survivor. Underestimating Gitana and her Curse. The Prince’s intentions and the Royal family. Myself. And now I had made the perhaps fatal mistake of underestimating this masked woman.

“Brace your ears!” I heard on the earpiece. The cavalry had arrived right on cue.

I fell back and pressed my ears with my hands. The sonic grenade that landed nearby knocked Oriol unconscious, but the woman disappeared. And as the smoke dissipated, and I saw Agents running around surrounding the perimeter, everyone else was gone as well.

“What happened here?” Ricardo yelled as he appeared out of the vehicle parked right next to us. Of course he was the one responding to tidy up my mess.

“We captured him, accompanying the Survivor. But we got ambushed while waiting for you,” I said. I quickly realized that besides the smoke and the ropes, there was no other proof we had gotten surrounded.

As I stood up, still dizzy from the sonic explosion, I looked back to find Miguel. He must have been unconscious and seemed well tended by other Agents already. Probably he did not get to muffle his ears at the right moment. Further back, at the alley where Gitana had been shot, her body was gone.

“Who was here?” Ricardo asked.

Good question.