“Great,” I chuckled as soldiers demanded I get on my knees and lace my fingers behind my head. “It’s a setup.”
“Wait…” Lady Wraith said. “This was a test.”
“Test? For who? State your name and business.”
“I’m Major Kensington of the Beta Extermination Unit,” she said as she showed her badge. “I’ll have Brigadier General Caldwell on the line shortly.”
The soldiers spoke among themselves, stopping in front of me with guns drawn and pointed before one said, “We’ll wait.”
Hope leaked through the sharp throb in my head, and I suddenly experienced grand delusions that this “Major Kensington” outranked Colonel Thompson and this whole damn pier, and somehow I’d get swooped away to somewhere I didn’t have to deal with all this bullshit.
“Yes,” she said to her earbud. “He’s here with me. No. He’s getting arrested. Yes. That…. It was my fault, sir. Yes… I was testing him with a spar. Yes, there was property damage. He’s a recru—yes. Yes, they’re here to take him away…. What do you mean, let them? You were the one…. Sir, we outrank…. Yes, sir.”
My heart sank as I saw her black silhouette look at me and then at the soldiers. “You can take him away, but we will not submit to questioning,” Major Kensington said. “We significantly outrank you, so unless you want to get demoted, you’ll keep your mouths shut about our involvement here.”
“Ma’am, I need to call this—“
“Call it in, and I’ll see you demoted by tomorrow morning. I’ll take my leave.”
My heart swirled with hatred as Major Kensington walked away, allowing more soldiers to jump off the Humvee with a clack of boots and rush me as two silhouettes lifted me under the bright, hot light, zip-tied my hands behind my back and dragged me to the vehicle. It was one thing to be treated like an animal—it was another thing to be treated like I mattered for once and then be kicked aside. It made me sick.
2
Excerpt from Shiloh Kensington’s Diary - May 28th, 2027
I hate myself so much right now that I’m shaking, and the ink’s bleeding and I can’t write. And I’m pissed. Really fucking pissed. At this base, at those soldiers, and most importantly—myself. Because I fucked up. Now, I have to save someone, and instead of doing that, I’m WRITING in this fucking DIARY! So, guess what? Prepare for some abuse because I’m not holding back!
Let’s just start with the obvious: I think I just killed Kei. He’s still alive, but I got him locked up in the Brig before an Article 86 court-martial, so I practically killed him.
Yeah. That’s right—we just learned he’s on trial. In fact, it’s a damn miracle that I got him in trouble, or we’d be blindsided when he checked into the Brig tomorrow. These sneaky fucks… gah! I still can’t believe it! These sneaky fucks seriously let him walk around in that pink ass shirt without supervision so we’d discover his identity but think everything was alright, all while knowing they scheduled an Article 86 tomorrow! We didn’t even find out until we tried to see where they were taking him and found out he already had a trial. Do you know how fucked up that is? That we submitted two requests for Kei’s information, and they asked for 24 hours to release the information and planned to charge him before they released it? They’ve got some serious balls to do that to a Brigadier General. Nick’s about to eviscerate these brazen fucks and whip them with their own intestines!
But neither Nick’s wrath nor damage control for my fuck up are going to save him because Kei Nakamura is a goddamn moron who decided to go break the law on video just before his fucking trial.
Okay, I’ll be fair—hundreds of people openly “break the law” by gambling here nightly. Military lets us drink because they don’t have medication or therapy. They let us buy illegal goods so we don’t riot for not having them. The only reason that these things are “illegal” is so that the military can arrest Sickles at any time.
That said! That fucking said! This was right before an Article 86 trial! If I would’ve known he had a death warrant instead of an upcoming promotion, I would’ve dragged his happy ass out of that park instead of testing him!
But I didn’t. You know what I did? I got flustered and rushed around destroying property and bringing as much fucking attention to this dead man as I possibly could have. Why? Because I’m a hypocritical moron!
I feel embarrassed, ashamed, and pathetic right now, but I still can’t express how much this guy irked me the moment I read his file.
Here are the facts: Kei’s been a Sickle since the first month of the Rapture, and he’s committed no less than 231 recorded illegal infractions on video and recording. That’s only 33% more than the average for Sickles, living or dead, but still. He plays cards nightly, engages in illegal communications and resource collection, and he went so far as to go on a date with a fucking Breather this afternoon. He was literally sharing a soda with one ON VIDEO in an upscale restaurant. It’s technically not illegal—but legality doesn’t matter if you’re dead! If that girl’s father is half as riven as those managers were, he’s gonna get crucified!
Let’s move on to his track record: Kei Nakamura is not a legendary sniper. He has below average for marks shooting tests, proving that he’d be fucked if he wasn’t a Sena. He’s also lost 100% of his hand-to-hand combat spars since getting to Pier Zero. 100%. 100 fucking percent. Did I mention he was 150 pounds? 150. No diamond coating. No weight. No muscle. Poor shooting, poor hand-to-hand combat, and he took on a Delta Berserker just because its head was stuck in a window.
Are you wondering how he survived this? Me too! Me. Fucking. Too. I can’t get it out of my damn head!
I actually have a theory for how he traced that Cela (which we’ll get to), but I’m high and dry for how he killed the Delta. Pier Zero is “reviewing” the video footage, and the occupants were in the kitchen during the attack, so we don’t know what happened. All we know is that Kei shot it in the eye and somehow shot it through the beak, even though a Cela-type stalk moves as fast as a hummingbird. Even Tyrell would find that shot difficult, and getting close and high enough to take it is a whole other animal. It’s perplexing and amazing, but I can’t imagine a scenario where a 150-pound man without Diamond Crust could take on a Delta Berserker with nothing but a pistol and win confidently.
But that’s what I actually hate about Kei Nakamura—he’s remarkably talented with rare gifts and something that I’ve never seen before. And we need that because when Akash’s gone, people are going to start dying. That’s why I was hoping, praying, wishing, dreaming that he actually knew what he was doing—but instead found that he was an impulsive idiot who acts without thinking. He went on a date with a rich Breather, took on a stalk he couldn’t handle, jumped off a two-story parking garage, pushed Sena to the max, went into suspension, woke up an hour later somehow, did a drug deal, and then gambled and drank on camera before an Article 86 court-martial deliberated on his fucking execution. That’s the type of behavior that GETS PEOPLE KILLED. And it’s a serious fucking problem that AFFECTS ME because we’re scouting this person for our team, so our lives might be depending on him, and if he proved anything while playing cards it’s that he’s extremely smart and sharp and talented, but that can switch on a fucking dime.
Kei showed up to play cards tonight in that pink T-shirt, never once mentioning or acting like he had an Article 86 trial the next day. It’d be cool if he was being strong, but he literally looked like the only thing that mattered was cards. I thought that was disturbing—
—I was wrong. It was fascinating.
Not at first. I originally thought he didn’t know how to play cards! He threw away great hands (two pairs, three of a kind) and bet and won on total garbage. A pair of threes, a lucky river. I just wanted to jump off the building, rush over to him, and throw in his chips, and scream, “Hold!” But the more I watched, the more I realized something horrifying. His chips kept increasing. Slowly yet surely, like a cancer growth that you didn’t even realize was bigger until it was dangerously large. The more I watched the more I realized that he was losing to people, reading them, watching, learning, playing them all for fools. People kept complaining about how lucky he was because he won with the shittiest hands imaginable. But his chips kept increasing, over and over like clockwork. And through it all, everyone knew Kei was playing them, but they played because Kei is just so… fucking charming. Not in a suave way…. Not in a “captivate an audience” kind of way. Just in this… likable way. Confident. Easy going. I mean, he was wearing a pink shirt, for fuck’s sake. And that wasn’t a fuck you to the man or the bleeding lack of confidence like the girl who cut off her shorts to prove she was fuckable. He wore it with confidence, smiling, and being pleasant despite lacking humor. So everyone let Kei win a little more than his share, even Randy (as people were calling him), who tuned it out, grumbling about China and “the fucking Australians” instead.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
I was so captivated that I couldn’t wait until the end of the story: how will Kei Nakamura end the night? How much will he leave with? What’s he going to say to justify his string of lucky victories? I wanted to know so bad and all I could think was how much I wanted this strangely competent person on the team. We could use a mind like this. But you know how a terrible ending to a story makes you think that the whole thing was garbage even though you loved it up until the ending? Well that happened to me with a passion. At the very end, for whatever reason, this fucking idiot decides he was going to bet half of his chips on absolutely nothing. Nothing! And the way he was breathing and interacting for the last few hands just told me that he had lost control and wanted to gamble it all. And he was going to do it, and all I could think was: YOU’RE GOING TO GET US KILLED!
Kei convinced me that he was capable and that I could trust him even when he did seemingly dumb things, so I put my money on him—and then he pissed it all away. That’s dangerous. Akash’s too aggressive for comfort, and Tyrell’s… Tyrell… but they’re consistent. This isn’t. Kei’s sharp enough to take a chance hiding money without looking back and capable of playing people while retaining good relationships. If everyone relies upon him with absolute confidence, and then he pulls this shit… we’re fucked. It’s scary.
That’s why I was pissed and jumped off the building, swinging around my scythe like a toddler throwing a tantrum. If I’m being honest, I think it’s just because I was immeasurably disappointed and I was searching for something to retain my hope in him…
And I got it.
I think that’s the saddest part—I found out that Kei was actually special. Not in one but two ways.
Remember when I said I had a theory on how he sniped that stalk? Well, here it is: I think Kei can sense aether fluctuations.
I’m not sure what that would look like, but that’s the only thing that makes sense. I did an experiment: I did a Bend to copy my body and then carefully used Scura to walk all the way nearly in front of him, keeping in the shadows, ensuring that his eyes wouldn’t see me. Nothing. I distorted the sound’s location—he couldn’t tell where the source was. He couldn’t see me. He couldn’t hear me. But when I ambushed him—he looked right at me, threw a table at me, and dodged as if he knew exactly where I’d be.
And it kept happening!
During our brief spar, it became clear as day. If I struck while channeling aether into the claw, he could dodge it with surreal accuracy. If I removed it, he panicked and looked at my body, surprisingly keeping up. I thought it was because he could see, so I wrapped my body in Scura to make the aether invisible—and it didn’t change a damn thing. So I tested one last thing to confirm it: I wrapped my scythe in Scura and hid the aether—and he dodged every strike again. I genuinely think that he can see aether fluctuations. And I think that’s somehow related to him sniping that stalk. It’s all I got but…
It’s amazing.
A Blender with full Sena capabilities and this bizarre ability… it sounds unbelievable, but it makes sense.
His core’s around his heart.
You just read that correctly. Kei Nakamura should be dead. His core’s on the kill zone for Lep C is where his core stems from. Putting aside the fact that it’s an unreported mutation that Pier Zero hid—which is now a national issue—having a core where blood pumps is like building a city on a network of rivers. This man’s body can pump aether in ways we can’t imagine. If he got a diamond coating and training, he would be incredible.
But who knows? Maybe his mutation, his talent, his potential, his past, present, and future are all irrelevant because I fucking killed him.
I feel sick right now…. I hope to fucking God that Nick can pull off a miracle. And I pray there’s something I can do to help this guy… because, impulsive or not, he didn’t deserve to get locked up tonight. That’s on me.
Oh, thank God for Nick… I just got a call. Apparently, he made it clear that he was going to break spines until Kei was released. They’re pushing back, and I guess it’s political, so if we want to save him, it’ll reflect on us. Luckily, Wei’s found some loopholes, so we’re gonna try this clean. If we fail…. I don’t know.
3
Laying in a cot within the Brig, I stared at the ceiling, wondering why in hell a prison cell was larger than my room at the Marriott. It was a dumb thought to have when you’re facing death, but all my other thoughts were worse. I couldn’t stop thinking about how angry I was that Maggie almost puked when she learned I was a Sickle (mostly just because, but also after all the pro-Sickle bullshit she was spewing) or the fact that it was followed up with getting led along by a BEU fighter, and then arrested. I wasn’t an omniscient god, but I was fairly certain the BEU stood well above the Marine Corps in terms of authority. So basically, she just got me in trouble, and then her superior left me to die. I was pissed. At Maggie and Major Kensington—
—and myself for getting led along with cheap fantasies twice in one day. Even for a male, that was downright pathetic.
Bone-tired with nothing to show for it, I rolled to an angle that the zip ties hurt least and let myself drift off to sleep, wishing that I had that Trazodone because when you suffer trauma, you return to it in your dreams, reliving those moments so that you’ll never forget the cost of trust or danger lurking around every corner. ‘Cause the thing about trauma is, you don’t get it when you’re accustomed to it. I won’t dream of that stalk that almost ate me today or that woman’s singing blade—you remember the moments that were good but abruptly shifted to horror—the moments that you realize that you’re not invincible and the people who you love die—and that’s what I experienced nightly and that night was no exception.
When I awoke, I was in the closet of my house on Lincoln Avenue at the start of the Rapture, hugging Ren to my chest, covering her mouth with my hand as we listened to that monster smacking, eating flesh and bone-like wet and crunchy cereal outside the closet door, hearts pounding, smelling the putrid smell of dehydrated piss and rancid fur….
Suddenly, I heard my mom’s voice in the distance. “Kei! Ren!”
I shot awake in my cell to the sound of morning gunfire. I was nineteen at Pier Zero. Date of my execution trial—2027.
4
From Shiloh Kensington’s Audio Record, May 29th, 2027
Start Time: 0527
Kensington: 1022, 1020, 1018…. (pulls into Alphonse Carmichael’s driveway in Freetown, gets out, and knocks three times on the door. No immediate answer.) This is Major Kensington of the United States Rift Defense Command—open up! (no response) I have the authority to seize your home and arrest you. So I suggest you open this door!
Carmichael: (behind the door) One second….
Carmichael‘s daughter: Who is it, Daddy?
Carmichael: Shhhh. This is an important person, honey, and I need to talk to her. Go take Mom and get something for breakfast. Okay?
Carmichael’s daughter: But she sounds scary.
Carmichael: She’s not scary, honey. Now go…. Good girl. (opens the door) My sincerest apologies. (tone turns aggressively nervous). S-She’s just a little girl. Please forgive—“
Kensington: Mr. Carmichael. If you think I’m a monster that would kill your family for your actions, you’re wrong. But if you think I give two fucks that you have a family, you’re also wrong. So I suggest you cooperate.
Carmichael: C-Cooperate with what? Y-You can’t speak like this. I know you’re the military, but I doubt that the military allows soldiers to threaten civilians. I’m well connected, and I can guarantee—
Kensington: Let me make something clear to you, Mr. Carmichael. I know where you work. I know you have connections, and I understand you’re used to getting what you want. But even if you got General Clayborne on the phone right now, the only thing he could do for you is call off this operation. Otherwise, I have the authority to dismember you in front of your daughter with full impunity. That’s the level of authority that you’re dealing with right now. Do you understand?
Carmichael: (swallows) Yeah.
Kensington: Good. Let’s talk about Kei Nakamura.
Carmichael: Kei Nakamur… wait, is that the Asian guy? Hold on. I already told you guys everything I know about him. I swear I didn’t hold anything back.
Kensington: We know who he is. I’m here because he’s getting executed.
Carmichael: Wait. So you decided to punish him after all?
Kensington: Oh yes, Mr. Carmichael. He was supposed to abandon you and rush to the water, but he saved you, so they’re executing him for being late.
Carmichael: (falls silent)
Kensington: But what’s inter~esting is that there’s a one-in-a-million chance that anyone could’ve saved you in that position, which makes the conversation we’re having a certified miracle. That’s why my general is interested in the boy and the reason why you’re going to save him to prevent a political crisis. Refuse or tell me I can’t do this one more time, and I’ll hand your daughter your limbs.
End Time: 0549