The sound of my heartbeat echoed through my head. According to my visor, my BPM was sitting at around 110. Anticipation ate at my gut and sweat prickled along my skin. I could see my nerves reflected in the men around me; their hunched backs, twitchy fingers, and heavy breathing. In comparison, I must have looked totally stone-cold calm. I wasn’t, of course, but I knew better than to let my anxiety show. I was their rock; the one these men would be relying on above all else. To show any form of weakness would be tantamount to sabotaging the mission.
“Are you ready, Seven?” the team commander’s voice pierced in my ear, sharp and electronic over the comms.
“Yes, sir,” I replied. The men around me all tensed in response. It was time.
The command to breach sounded like a bomb going off in my head, and everything started moving at once. The man with the battering ram smashed the door open while another threw a flash grenade in through the doorway, giving the criminals inside no time to react before they were blinded.
They were scum. The worst of the worst; manufacturers of the sorts of drugs that have ruined countless lives on the streets of Tombguard. I’ve seen the result of their greed time and time again over my past month of patrolling; in the crumpled bodies on the sides of the road; in the people twitching, scratching themselves, making scenes over nothing but the narcotic-induced hallucinations and hurting themselves in the process. The source of all that pain could be traced straight back to this building, where a tip-off confirmed that a manufacturing plant of one of the city’s largest drug trafficking rings was located. They would get no mercy from me.
I charged forward into the fray, shadows lashing from my body as I took the lead in disabling the criminals. Most of them were completely stunned by the flashbang, so it was a cinch to run up and crack each of them with a well placed hit to the skull, sending them crumpling to the ground and leaving them for the SWAT officers to apprehend.
The door in front of me slammed open and a man ran out, pistol in hand. He zeroed in on me as the biggest threat and took aim. For a split second, I froze as adrenaline shot through me, but then my training kicked in and I threw my arm up, turning the darkness inside the barrel of the gun solid. He pulled the trigger and the whole thing exploded, mangling his hand.
I ran up as he screamed, slamming the palm of my hand into his nose and jabbing at his throat in quick succession before cracking my elbow against his temple. His knees buckled and he collapsed like a sheet of broken glass.
The clamour in the main room had become significantly quieter. I turned and surveyed the situation, pleased to find almost all of the criminals in handcuffs already, the officers sweeping the last few rooms of the house that held the source of all this pain.
“Is that all of them?” I asked.
One of the SWAT officers - Eyre, I thought his name was - did a head count of the apprehended criminals. “According to the tip we got, there should be one-”
The door next to him opened - the last door we had yet to check - and all I saw was the barrel of a shotgun before my legs were powering forward and I was shoving Eyre down.
The gunshot went off and the force of the impact against my armour sent me rolling across the room, the wind rushing from my lungs. Several more gunshots echoed through the small space as the other officers drew their weapons and returned fire, putting down the culprit like the dog he was.
“Anyone hit?” one of the officers called.
“N-no, no, I’m okay,” Eyre said, picking himself up off the floor. I did the same, wincing at the pain in my back. My armour was more than enough to prevent any real injury from such small bullets, but the shock of the bullets’ collision with the metal still transferred to my body, right into the scars that Father had left with his whip. Just my luck. It was definitely going to bruise, and those things gave me enough grief already.
“Seven? Are you good?”
I nodded, grateful for my visor to hide my grimace. “Yes.”
The officer turned away, seemingly satisfied. “Alright, let’s get these suspects rounded up so the evidence team can clear this place out.”
Relief flooded my system at the notion that we were finished. No more fighting for today; I could just go back to the facility and relax. Or, more likely, shadow Father after giving my report until he dismissed me. Still, that would be leagues better than the nauseating heat of battle. At least with Father there was a certain guarantee that I wouldn’t be suddenly inflicted with a head wound. I couldn’t say the same about joining SWAT raids, that was for sure.
The earpiece in my helmet crackled to life with the commander’s voice. “Lookout team C isn’t responding. Seven, could you go check it out?”
“Roger,” I replied, rushing out the door. The brightness of the midday sun glared in my visor as I ran, heading for the tall building across the street that housed Lookout Team C. There were several sniper teams set up around the area, keeping an eye on things in case any suspects made a run for it. They hadn’t been needed, thankfully, but it was still worrying that this team wasn’t responding. Hopefully, it was just a radio malfunction, but something in my gut was telling me otherwise.
The shadows in my armour wrapped themselves around my legs like springs, fortifying them and giving me the strength to fling myself and clear several storeys in one jump. I flew up through the air until I reached the apex of my flight, sending out a whip of darkness from my wrist which wrapped itself around the railing of the fire escape, keeping me suspended. The whip shrank, and I was pulled up along with it, slingshotting myself over the edge of the building and onto the roof, where I landed in a safety roll before turning to where the lookout team was supposed to be posted.
Two people in SWAT uniforms laid sprawled against the lip of the roof, blood pooling beneath them. Their sniper rifle was nowhere to be seen. My heart lurched.
“Team C is down!” I shouted into the comms, rushing over. Maybe they could still be saved.
“What happened?! What’s their status?” The commander asked.
I reached the bodies, turning one over onto his back. His entire front was stained red, and his throat hung open and bloody like a gaping maw of flesh. I dropped him and stumbled back, looking around in case the one who’d done this was still nearby. All was still and silent.
“Th-they’re dead,” I replied. “Their throats are cut, a-and their gun is missing.”
“Shit!”
What followed was a scramble of orders too fast for me to process. I was too busy staring at the bodies of the two men who had been assigned to look out for us. When did this happen? How long have they been lying there, growing cold? From the looks of things, they didn’t even get a chance to react to whatever attacked them. One moment they were alive, diligently doing their duty for the raid, and the next, they were bleeding out on the concrete. I just… couldn’t understand. This sort of thing wasn’t supposed to happen to the good guys.
The comms crackled and Father’s voice suddenly appeared in my ears.
“Pick up that feather, Seven.”
His words kicked my mind back into gear. Sure enough, there were several black feathers scattered around the scene. I hadn’t noticed them before, and honestly, why would I? There were plenty of birds in the city, and plenty of birds meant plenty of feathers. They weren’t usually something to bat an eye at. That being said, if Father wanted a better look at the feather, he must have had a good reason for it. Following his order, I picked one up, examining it. It shimmered in the sunlight, long and full. I didn’t know much about birds, but this feather seemed healthy to me.
“Bring it back to the facility with you. I will be awaiting your report in your quarters. That is all.”
The comms crackled again, and Father’s voice disappeared, replaced once again with the Commander’s frantic yelling, trying to coordinate a search for the suspect who did this to his men. I looked back at the feather, considering it again. I remembered the words Father said to me on the day I was deployed, just after meeting Madeline for the first time. If the puzzle pieces connected the way I thought they did, the search wasn’t going to be successful, especially if they only looked on the ground.
“Kill the black-winged one on sight should you see it.”
I turned my gaze up towards the sky. That magnificent blue stretched onwards to infinity, dotted with clouds of varying shapes and sizes. There was no ‘black-winged one’; no crazed, knife-wielding killers darting through the air, silhouetted in the light. Just an endless expanse of blue. There was nothing. Nothing but a feather clutched between my fingers, two dead men, and a missing sniper rifle.
Why, then, did I still feel like I was being watched?
—
I sighed, sitting down on the end of my bed having finally stripped my armour off at the end of the day. I’d already given Father my report of the raid, and handed over the feather he’d been so interested in. He was silent the entire time, just listening, not even saying a word when he left my quarters. It worried me a little. Today was far from usual in terms of my activities, and adding in the huge loss of two SWAT officers, I could imagine that Father wasn’t very happy. I’d been doing good for him lately, but I knew well how easily his displeasure could turn around onto me. My bruised back throbbed in memory of the whipping I got all those months ago for failing at the obstacle course. I’d have to be on my guard.
Sure enough, the door opened again and I jumped back to my feet, standing at the ready. Father glowered as he walked over, the door shutting automatically behind him. Usually, he would've given me the command to be at ease by now. Something was very wrong. I didn't have my armour on anymore; totally stripped down to my underwear. The knowledge of how defenceless I was in the face of his anger was terrifying.
He stopped inches away from my face, towering over me. I averted my gaze nervously.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Could you tell me, Seven…” he began, voice low and rumbling like thunder. “Why exactly two men under your protection were killed, and you have nothing to show for it?”
“I- I don’t know, sir. I was busy with the raid; I don’t know what happened to the lookout team. I… I didn’t think they would be in any danger.”
He struck me across the face with the back of his hand, and my head rang like a bell. My entire body tensed up so that I wouldn’t move from my position and anger him further.
“Two men are dead because of your negligence, do you understand that? Two good men, with families that we will need to notify. What am I supposed to tell John Benovich’s wife when she asks why her husband isn’t coming home? That we don’t know why? That the only reason her husband is dead is because you weren’t doing your job? Can you even comprehend the gravity of your failure today?”
As a matter of fact, I didn’t understand it. How could what happened have been my fault? Was there really anything I could have done differently to prevent it? I knew Father was right of course, but the thought of the blame falling on me when I couldn’t make sense of it rankled, and I felt the uncharacteristic urge to defend myself bubble up inside me. Deep down I knew I would regret it; I knew Father would punish me for my insubordination - and rightfully so - but some part of me just couldn’t concede until I really understood what he was trying to tell me. I looked up and met Father’s piercing glare.
“Sir, I’m sorry, but I don’t see how it was my failure. I had no way of knowing what would happen, and the lookout teams were far outside of the range in which I could reasonably protect them. I… I just don’t understand how it’s my fault. I- I’m sorry.”
The silence in the room boiled and I felt the regret wash over me like a humid wave; sweat beading across my body. Father’s face contorted, his pale skin growing splotchy and red. I saw the hit coming from a mile away as the world seemed to move in slow-motion, but my body refused to move out of the way; painfully aware of how much I deserved this punishment for what I just did.
His fist collided with my nose and I felt the cartilage crack under his knuckles. My head snapped backwards and I stumbled, the pain and shock filling my eyes with tears. My back hit the sink and my knees buckled, dropping me to the floor and leaving me half supporting myself against the cold porcelain as warm, coppery liquid dripped over my lips and into my open mouth.
Father shook his hand out, his face a mask of rage. He stalked over and grabbed one of the straps of my sports bra, forcefully pulling me back to my feet. Icy terror stabbed through my chest. I really shouldn’t have done that.
“W-wait! I’m sor-”
He struck me again with his free hand, still holding me in place. My head spun, and my mouth tasted like blood from where I’d accidentally bitten the inside of my cheek.
“How dare you talk back to me, you mangy little attack dog?! How many times am I going to have to beat this lesson into you? I own you. You are mine. If I say that you failed, you have failed, and the first thing you should be doing is getting on your knees and begging me for forgiveness, not giving me backtalk! You know nothing about how the world works. You are nothing. Without me, you wouldn’t be here; you wouldn’t get this freedom that I’m allowing you. You would be buried six feet in the dirt where you belong! And you’re telling me you don’t understand? Of course you don’t; you’re barely one degree above an animal. You’re lucky I’m even gracing you with my presence. Do you at least understand that?”
Through the hot tears on my face and the paralysing fear in my gut, I could tell he was looking for an answer. I nodded frantically.
“Say it!” he screamed, aggressively shaking me.
“I- I understand, s-sir!”
He leaned in close until our noses were almost touching. I tried to shy away, but my back was against the wall. There was nowhere to go.
“What do you understand?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous.
“I- I understand that I’m lucky to h-have you, F-Father.”
His eyes narrowed. “...And?”
I swallowed, trying to remember his exact words. “A-and… that I’m b-barely one degree above an animal…”
He tapped my cheek with his thumb. It was gentle, but it still made me flinch.
“That’s right, Jordyn. You’re barely even a person, and the only reason you get to be that much is because of me. You only matter if you’re useful to me. Remember that.”
He finally leaned away and I had to resist letting out a sigh of relief at getting my personal space back. My heart was still pounding in my ears and my nose throbbed painfully along with every beat.
“Now,” he said. “Would you like me to help you understand your failure today, as well?”
I froze. I wasn’t sure how I should answer that. With no words coming to mind, my mouth supplied the default before I could stop it.
“Yes, please.”
Father cracked his knuckles. “Good.”
He was coming at me again before I knew what was happening. His fist sunk into my solar plexus and I gagged, slamming back against the wall as the air rushed out of me. Father didn’t slow down, following up with an elbow cracking across my cheekbone. One left jab split my bottom lip, and a right hook blackened my eye. His fingers tightened around my head as he grabbed my face and drove my skull against the wall behind me. I felt the skin split and warm blood drip down my neck, but there was no time to focus on that as Father pulled me down into a knee that crushed my already broken nose.
The pain was too much, and for a split second, everything turned white. I felt my body go limp and the world seemed to slip out of focus as Father began kicking me in the gut over and over, not allowing me a second to suck in the breath that had been lost when this beating began. A sharp, stabbing pain that was definitely a broken rib shot through my chest, and black swarmed my vision. It all became too much, and my eyelids started to fall shut, unconsciousness taking hold.
Just as quickly as it had started, Father backed off, storming out of the room and leaving me in a heap on the floor, slowly coming back to myself. My chest finally untightened and I sucked in as much air as I could, panting and coughing and sobbing at how much breathing hurt. I still didn’t understand. What was the point of all that? All… All he did was hurt me, and I still didn’t know what he meant when he said that I failed. Was it even possible for me to understand? Maybe… Maybe I was just too stupid. That was why Father was always there to tell me what to do. Without him, maybe I would just be too dumb to understand anything. Maybe I really was just a dumb, stupid, barely-a-person animal, just like he said.
I clenched my teeth, trying to stop crying. Every sob was like another kick in the chest, and it was excruciating. I really should’ve tried to get up and treat my wounds, but the thought of moving right now made panic claw up my throat. At least there was the reassurance that I had nothing else to do today, so I had all the time in the world to just lie here and feel sorry for myself. There was no need to force myself up just yet.
I heard the door slide back open; heard Father’s footsteps across the tile floor, and cold dread washed over me like ice water.
My vision was still blurry, so I couldn’t quite make out his face as he approached, but I could see what he was holding. In one hand: a knife. In the other: a bucket, sloshing with liquid.
“Oh good,” he said, voice lilting with menace. “You’re still conscious.”
“Wh… Wha…?” I tried to speak through my busted mouth, but it wasn’t quite following my instructions. Everything felt too thick and heavy.
“Your lesson isn’t over yet, Jordyn. We don’t stop until you understand.”
Panic shot through me like a bullet, and I started hyperventilating. “P-please… N-no more…”
Father shook his head. “You need to know the cost of your negligence. You need to know what you put those two men through by failing them today.”
He put the bucket down and grabbed the back of my neck, dragging me painfully to my feet. I could barely keep my balance, but Father’s hand remained in place and held me steady as the world spun around me.
Something cold and sharp poked my belly a split second before a line of fire parted my skin; Father’s knife cutting a shallow slice into my abdomen. I screamed as the agony struck through my nerves like lightning, thrashing and trying to escape. Father’s hand maintained its iron grip.
“Because you couldn’t maintain protective vigilance over all members of the raid team today, both of those men had to suffer through the excruciating experience of having their throats slit.”
The knife came again in time with his last word, cutting perpendicularly through the previous wound. I dry-heaved. My hands remained at my sides, refusing to move and defend me no matter how badly I needed it. Father wanted to teach me a lesson, and I’d already failed once today. I could not disobey him again.
He let go of my neck and I dropped to my knees, clutching at the wound with blood-slicked hands. The knife clattered to the ground and Father dragged the bucket over until it was right in front of me. He got to his knees at my side and his hand returned to its place at my nape.
I had no strength left, and as such Father had no issues shoving my face down into the cold water filling the bucket. The shock made me suck in a breath, sending water shooting up my sinuses and into my lungs. I instinctively coughed and tried to get any air at all, but that only made it worse. Forcing back against Father’s hand did nothing. My hands still refused to do anything to help me, as if something was holding them back, keeping them from acting against Father’s will. It wasn’t a conscious choice anymore; I needed to get out of this water, but they just wouldn’t listen. Shadows wouldn’t amass and do my bidding. I couldn’t go against him. I couldn’t fight back. I was helpless, and it was going to kill me.
Finally, Father pulled my head out of the bucket. I coughed and sputtered, wheezing any air I could through my water-logged throat. Please, god, let it be over.
“Because their throats were slit, they died in agony, drowning slowly in their own blood,” Father said. “It’s not a good experience, is it?”
I shook my head as best I could with his hand holding me in place.
“Do you understand yet, Jordyn? Do you know how you failed, and what your failure put those men through?”
“Y-yes, yes, I u-understand, sir.” It was the truth. I understood.
He pursed his lips. “See, I don’t think you do. Until you’ve experienced both of their pain, I really don’t think you can understand. You’ve already been cut twice, sure, but the drowning? I just don’t think you get it yet.”
My eyes went wide. Father dunked me under the water again.
It was too much. I just couldn’t take it anymore. Every single part of my body was in pain. My face throbbed relentlessly. My lungs burned from the lack of oxygen and my abs burned from the effort of trying to fight back. Every movement still sent a spike of anguish shooting through my chest. My back ached from bending over. The cuts on my belly stung endlessly. I just wanted it to end.
Father’s hand wasn’t moving. This was it; I was going to die. After everything I’d survived, I was going to die while getting taught a lesson because I was too stupid to understand a simple concept. Maybe I just wasn’t cut out for this life. Blackness swarmed around my vision, closing in. I accepted it.
Once again, right as I was teased with some sort of release from this agonising consciousness, Father ripped it away at the last moment. My head was pulled out of the water and Father finally released his grip. My body went slack without his support and I collapsed to the floor, knocking the bucket over as oxygen and feeling slowly returned to my tingling, dying body.
“Now, you understand,” Father said.
I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. I was too busy trying to figure out how to breathe again.
“What do you say, Jordyn?”
Despite my overall lethargy, my brain kicked into overdrive trying to parse that question. Getting it wrong would mean this lesson wouldn’t be over yet. Father would still have to teach me more. He would have to take more time out of his day to discipline me for my stupidity. I needed to get this right; I needed to prove that I could be good for him in all the ways he deserved. I was lucky to get to even be in his presence.
“Th… thank you…” I rasped. “F-for… For helping me… u-understand…”
“Good girl.”
In the distance, I heard the door slide open. Mr. Sadler’s voice echoed around my head.
“Sir, we've finished- Oh. Sorry, am I interrupting something?”
Father stood up. “Just dolling out some discipline. Don't worry, we just finished. What were you saying?”
“We've finished analysing that feather from the scene. You were right, it came from G-5’s wings.”
“Thought so. Seems that girl is dedicated to being a thorn in my side. No matter, we'll find out where she's hiding eventually. Then, Seven will take care of her. Won't you, Jordyn?”
I was too stupid to know what they were talking about, but it seemed prudent to reply with an affirmative. Unfortunately, I seemed to finally have lost control of my body, and all I could manage was a moan that sounded vaguely like a yes.
“Very good,” Father replied. “Now, patch yourself up and take a shower. You stink.” With that, Father and Mr. Sadler left my room, and I finally, finally, passed out.