Evan reluctantly followed Rowic and Vihn into the small shelter just beyond the vault door, which Vihn closed behind them.

Thick cushioned walls faded with grease stains surrounded this smaller room. Gaps in the cushioning revealed the hard shell of lead walls. Giant monitors and keyboards populated half of the space. The monitors were overcome with thick coils of wires and piping.

The interior of a pub could be seen on one of the computer screens to the right. It had long tables, overtaken by dozens of patrons, and high stools with solitary drinkers at a bar counter. A purple backlight illuminated an array of beers and scotches, upstaged by several knobs of tap beer. A large metal sign hung on the sidewall, “Chill Pub and Grill,” it said. The bearded man worked behind the counter, tending to a small group of patrons.

In the vault, Rowic dropped himself into the rolling chair and slid toward the keyboards. His hands stroked the keys in rapid succession. Evan was certain this had been the hacker who controlled the drone and tram earlier.

Feeds of a Federation inquisition displayed on the other monitors – dozens of soldiers busting in doors, patrolling alleys, and scanning the IDs of rounded up pedestrians.

“Man, they want you bad,” Rowic said.

Vihn frowned. “Nothing changes.”

Evan couldn’t tell if the enforcers were searching for him, the rebels, or both. He debated if he wanted the Feds to find him or not. Maybe his father had already orchestrated a way to rescue Ken, making Evan’s rogue mission pointless. How would Evan manage to find his friend anyway? Conversely, if his father had given up on Ken, there might never be another chance to save his friend again. No decision felt right, and so his mind squabbled, his decision window closing with each moment.

A deep pound of hydraulics reverberated from outside, drawing the attention of Evan and the rebels to the pub’s feed.

A squad of four soldiers advanced inside, followed by a monster of machinery. It was a robotic suit of white armor, more than twice the size of an average person. Protruding from the top of the suit was a brick-of-a-man's face, which had deep scars and sun-darkened skin. His muscles moved in synergy with the suit, akin to a medieval knight. Armor plates shifted with each step, revealing rubber joints and strips of light. A floating metal halo spun evenly just above his buzzcut head. His pupils twitched independently, reflective with inner amber lights, retracting and expanding like focusing camera lenses.

“Great,” spouted Vihn from within the vault. “Purifier.”

Rowic clicked off several switches and toggles. The monitors and systems whined as they powered off, except for a single feed of the pub. The room became silent, interrupted only with the stowaways’ low breathing and the rumbling heater.

The suited man prowled the pub, a bipedal gorilla. His eyes scanned the patrons with the dour gaze of a hawk.

The patrons held silence, hunched over their drinks, adverting eye contact with the soldiers. The bartender turned up the music volume and then continued to wipe down the countertop.

The armored ape-man approached the bar, bumping tables and chairs with quivering people in them. The wood floor depressed underneath each of his steps. He stopped at the counter and stretched out his large, gauntleted hand. His palm lit up with a blue projection of the bartender’s face, lines of text scrolling beside it.

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The purifier’s voice was like rolling thunder, heralding a coming storm. “Zachary Stenson, D5-1002. Let out of incarceration with indefinite travel and familial restrictions. Past involvement with militant rebels.”

Letting out a deep sigh, Zachary lowered a hand underneath the counter. His fingers brushed over a concealed pump shotgun.

The purifier’s eyes followed this movement, almost as if he could see Zachary’s hand as it slipped further down to a beer glass. His focus shifted to the back wall.

Inside the vault, Vihn motioned with his finger to stay silent.

The purifier turned his right ear in their direction and ordered, “Music.”

Zachary nodded and rotated the knob of the archaic sound system. The rock seeped away.

As this happened, Rowic flipped a toggle and a deep tone pressured Evan’s ears.

The purifier stood still as a statue.

Cold sweat beaded over Evan. The rhythm of his heart felt louder than anything else in the room. He caught himself as he almost let out a breath.

After minutes that seemed like hours, the purifier surveyed the pub one last time, and then followed the soldiers outside.

The group exhaled. Rowic turned on the other monitors and off whatever device had created pressure in Evan’s ears.

Zachary met Vihn at the door again. “Looks like that junky system still works.”

“This work of art just made sure we’d live another day,” Rowic shouted from within the vault, and massaged his keyboard lovingly.

“Well, whatever you call it, those Feds looked like tools out there.” Zachary fed a rich brown bottle through the small window. “Guess I lost the bet. I’m going to lock up for the night.”

“Thanks for the sanctuary so late notice.” Vihn’s grin was as strong as his grasp on the bottle. “Rest easy, rebel man.”

Rowic swiveled to Vihn as the bartender walked away. “Looks like Joseph Krow’s still kicking.”

“He has upgrades too.” Vihn leaned against a terminal. “None of this is working out.”

“I told you this was how it’d end up.”

Evan wondered where he’d be if he hadn’t triggered the transponder. The purifier was horrifying, but if anyone could save someone from Afflicted rebels, it was him.

Noticing an opportunity, Evan pressed into the rebels’ fears. “Like I said, the Governor won’t stop until he saves me. Let me go and they’ll forget about you.”

Vihn smiled dismissively. “There’s little we can do right now with the Feds running around. We’ll deal with all this tomorrow when the rest of the team shows up. But don’t worry, kid. We have a plan that’ll make sure you make it out of here with us.”

“Yeah? What’s to stop me from blowing a hole in the wall and getting that purifier to stop you?”

“Try it.”

Evan knew he couldn’t. And if he could, more people would die. More blood to his name. That wasn’t who he was, not who he wanted to be, not how he wanted to solve his problems.

Vihn said, “We both know you don’t have much control over your power. It’d be funny seeing you flop around on the floor again, though.”

Evan socked him in the face. The terrorist stumbled back. Rowic jumped from his chair. The heat of power built up in Evan. He didn’t know where the impulse came from, but he felt the buzz of adrenaline. Was that the first time he’d ever thrown a punch? His knuckles ached, but it was worth it to see the surprise on Vihn’s face.

Vihn waved his hand and massaged his jaw while chuckling. “Ok, now you’ve hit me, what’s next, kid? You can’t use your powers because you might not be able to stop once you really get going. What happens when Krow sees what you are? You think your father is going to be able to control that beast from ripping you apart? Trust me, junior.” He dropped his hand and backed Evan up. “I know Krow. He – will – kill – anyone. Old lady, suckling babe, scrawny teenager. Being a GK doesn’t matter to him because he only has one directive: Puri-freaking-fy.”

Evan took a deep breath and the power seeped away from him. He was trapped, and this man knew it. He focused on a clear goal: Save his friend without anyone else getting hurt – If he could accomplish that, then he didn’t care what happened to him. He’d have to bide his time, though. There’d be an opening, and he’d be ready.

What was once good could be good again.

Monster.

“Always a pro at making friends, my guy,” Rowic said.

Vihn flashed him a rude gesture.

Rowic clucked his tongue. “Someone needs a nap.”

Spending the night with Afflicted rebels in a vault hidden behind a sketchy bar was far from how Evan expected his day to go.

When they fell asleep, that’s when Evan could make his escape.