by RD Hale
Grabbing the underside, I tip the five ton mass of steel onto its side and leap onto the upfacing door. My fist shatters bullet resistant glass on impact and I grab a helpless officer who is dangling from his seat belt. Before he can squeeze the trigger I fling the emotion-flooded weakling like he is weightless, screaming: 'Run!'
He rolls over fallen leaves, fracturing his ulna, and clambers to his feet to flee into the woods. His terrified colleague is lying against the opposite window with legs in the air as he frantically feels for his weapon, but I conclude his panic with a gunshot to the forehead.
Standing on the toppled van I use the vantage point to discern distant bodies running through trees and my ears focus through the rustling of leaves until I hear a faint voice.
'What about Arturo? Did he get out okay?'
'That way. The gang are running in that direction. I'll bring them back. Jardine, you get the van.'
As I sprint into the woodland my amplified hearing ability detects the movements of every living organism, from the heartbeats of rodents to the sound of water being sucked through tree roots. Fourteen seconds later I catch up with the fleeing gang who are unscathed and at human pace the return journey takes three minutes and one second.
Jardine pulls up and my friends scramble towards our getaway vehicle as I scan the headquarters section by section, detecting four remaining guards. A door to the base opens and a solitary foe raises his weapon but it is too late for him. My hand is already on his throat and the pathetic creature kicks my knees as I slam his shoulders into the wall, cracking both scapulae.
'Pl..eas...se...'
Blood vessels rupture as kicking legs surrender but I keep squeezing until bone structures falter. Triceps, biceps and deltoids assist flexors, increasing my grip strength. With facial muscles straining I squeeze until my hand clamps shut and red liquid pours. A helmeted head tumbles, leaving a decapitated corpse and these abominable shoulders hunch as respiration increases in heaviness.
A collection of neurons which a moment ago represented a hostile, but sentient life have ceased to function and I could have incapacitated him, but naked fury made another decision. As his belated support sprints down the corridor I disarm one of the soldiers by throwing a human head like a baseball. Before his partner can retaliate I am in the van and we race away from the scene of a bloody ballet.
'Take us to the nearest tram station. Now!' I roar.
We drive to comparative safety following yet another victory over San Teria but no-one is in the mood to celebrate as I count six poverty toughened youngsters. One family member is not coming back but that is where we must draw the line. Killow and Mila will return to this devastated troop. All are potential recruits for the terrorist during this period of vulnerability. I cannot allow that to happen.
'Arturo, you're an unstoppable killing machine now. The guards have no chance against you and Dynah.' Turbo fixes my scowl with hero-struck eyes.
'We took a great risk. We used one of our most powerful weapons to save you, but you earned the right, Arturo. You have all the required ingredients to be a soldier and now you can fulfil your potential,' Jardine suggests to a muted response.
We come to a halt in the shadow of a tram station and I step onto the pavement to embrace this future-defining moment of redemption. My ever-loyal sibling steps forth to wrap her arms around my neck and my bloodied hands resist the urge to leave prints on her back.
Emmi's only concern is that her brother overcomes the dangers I have chosen to confront and there is a sense she has given up on the others, because hoping for their safe return would be to risk further pain. My obligation to succeed may exceed the feasibility of this unplanned rescue attempt, but if remotely possible it will be done.
'Arturo, be careful,' Emmi whimpers.
'I don't need to be careful. You've seen how powerful we are. We'll bring Mila back with us, no matter what. I'll see you soon Emmi.'
Destination Orbital City
We enter Persimado Station and I erase visible evidence of my previous actions at a sink in the toilets. Washing blood splashes from my face I notice my pupils are tinted red so I turn to ensure it is not a trick of light and they are definitely red. I place my rinsed sleeve in the hand dryer and when the fabric is bone dry I rejoin the supergirl on the platform.
Dynah and I take the tram to the uppermost station of Sky City, attracting whispering stares on the tense journey. It could be paranoia on my part or instinct on the passengers part but they seem suspicious, like they know danger is imminent, like animals sensing an earthquake. An intrepid duo exits Meso Station with redundant brain regions dormant to maintain focus on the mission.
'Lead us to Orbital City,' I demand and laser signs guide us to the summit of the world's tallest building; the once dazzling sights contained within nothing more than an irritation. We march past crystalline architecture on the two mile high plateau, reaching the foot of the ozone-penetrating elevator shaft. Swiping our Citicards, Dynah and I step into the glass capsule which links our planet to Orbital City. Three hundred seats inside contain just six oblivious Citizens who cannot be forewarned of the possible lack of a return journey.
Transparent elevator walls reveal Abana City on the horizon - a megalopolis with asymmetric towers, a metallic pyramid and huge spheres suspended on stands, and it is saddening to think the future the rebellion are forging could lead to the destruction of such a masterpiece. Taking our seats, we wait for one hundred and twenty two irritating seconds.
At last the restraints lock down over our shoulders and a sign appears: Arrival in Orbital City - 2 minutes and 30 seconds.
Blue light streaks down windows as we shoot upwards with the view of the city rapidly shrinking in the transparent floor. Within seconds we have penetrated clouds and Medio city is now a smudge on the coastline. Blue streaks temporarily change to red, reverting to blueness as the pull of gravity eases. White whips are scattered across continents far below and the gleaming ocean spreads to the shadow of night. Twin moons sit above the orange haze which glows around the curvature of Eryx against the backdrop of interstellar space.
Another message appears: Arrival at Orbital City imminent.
The geocentric satellite comes into view and we slow to a stop. Restraints lift from our shoulders and tractor beams pull each passenger through the docking port. Drifting through the Sky Elevator's exit door, we land on a metallic catwalk lined with blue bulbs and a sign reads: Welcome to Orbital City.
We step through a portal into a vast area with an array of light sources and like sections of Sky City it has no obvious up or down. Even my enhanced eyes struggle to keep track of all the activity. Level One Citizens and costume-wearing robots parade between kiosks and trees on the grassy inner-surface and a child-carrying train spirals an uncontained pool of water which is suspended mid-air and filled with sharks. A bluebird flies past our faces as we approach a mother with two children on a green bench.
'You need to evacuate this city. Tell everybody. We are at war! There's going to be an attack, take your children to safety,' I instruct and protective arms wrap around precious angels as the mother glares in response to friendly advice so we hurry on to rescue someone who will be more appreciative.
'Dynah, where are we going?'
'I don't know.'
'Think. You have the ability to do this. Where would they take somebody to interrogate? Where do they take people who've been arrested?'
A sign appears: Orbital Security Station this way.
Blue arrows lead around the spherical park to the far side where we enter a flower-filled tunnel illuminated by fireflies. We soon emerge in a shopping district with such abstract architecture it would be easy to presume the constructs were computer-generated. Logos and product displays scroll over multishaped stores and way above, upside down rooftops look set to drop on our heads.
We hurry through the street to another tunnel of flowers and fireflies, reaching an area with a single-surfaced floor of black an
d red tiles and silver walls. Orbital Security Station is written in flame red writing above a broad doorway and strangely proportioned guards stand either side of the entrance wearing mask-like helmets.
Approaching in a state of bewilderment I scrutinise their unusual features - they are not wearing helmets. Their faces have prominent mouths, flattened noses and rigid brows evocative of the fabled missing link but distinct from the sasquatches we met in Charwood forest. As I attempt to march past these ape-like guards, my forearms are grabbed by enormously powerful hands which are so thick they initially appear to be leather gloves.
'Please state your business with the security station,' an apeman says.
'I'm looking for a sixteen year old girl. Her name is Mila Morgen, you have her inside. You are going to take me to her or I am going to kill you,' I demand.
'And how are you gonna do that?' the apeman laughs and I do not so much as move a finger but both of their grips are released. Precisely directed telekinetic blasts send the sentinels hurtling into the reception counter and my transhuman ally strides over as they lie dazed.
'They have our friend. Where will they have taken her?' Dynah asks.
'She'll be in a holding cell,' the apeman replies.
'Take us to her or-'
'I can take you to the cells, but you'll never get off this station alive.' The apeman stands; his partner still sleeping.
A human female is gawping from behind her reception desk which is protected by a forcefield - we can expect complications. The apeman leads us to a doorway and four of his team-mates fire phasers from the other side. I fling the muscular lump into oncoming fire and ape flesh sizzles as all beams strike him at once.
A leaping brute clubs me against the wall, knocking wind out of my lungs, but Dynah sends him hurtling towards the other apemen who topple like bowling pins. Withdrawing my phaser I stun the guards as they squirm on the floor, then I grab the neck of the apeman who was leading us to utilise him on the scanners. I drag him along the titanium corridor to a forcefield with: Holding Cells written above it.
Presuming the laser beam read his irises on approach, I press the apeman's limp index finger against a scanner and the forcefield vanishes. Almost instantly I count two hundred and twenty cells inside.
Dropping the apeman I enter and yell: 'Mila!' but I receive no response. Beyond each forcefield I see frightened prisoners standing, mostly male - their non-threatening faces a far cry from the inmates at the work camp. My pace quickens and I check every sparse cell in twenty seven seconds, screaming: 'MILA!'
'I'm not sure we're in the right place. Her presence is not strong enough,' Dynah advises upon my return.
'What do you mean? Where can she be?'
Before Dynah can reply, I approach the apeman slumped in the entrance of this detainment wing; his sleeping body preventing the reformation of the forcefield. With eyes still closed the apeman's head stirs so I slap his lower jaw to awaken him from his phaser-induced slumber.
'Can you hear me? Get up. Open the cells. All of them!' I growl.
Darkened eyes roll around sockets as I haul my puppet's four hundred and four pound two ounce frame onto unsteady stumps so his final moments can at least be of some use. I have no idea how I calculated his precise body weight.
'Cell one open. Cell two open. Cell three open...' the apeman gasps.
'Faster!' I command, fighting the temptation to tear his voicebox out.
'Cell four open... Cell six open...Cell fifteen open...'
'We don't have time. Everybody get out of here! This place is gonna blow... Dynah, where is Mila?'
'She's not too far. I can sense her, but it's not this section.'
'You! Where else could she be? Is there a laboratory? Do Reay-McCabe have a laboratory here? Or the Government?'
The semi-conscious apeman says nothing but a laser sign appears: Reay-McCabe Laboratories this way.
'Why did I not think of that before? Come on!' I instruct, tossing the apeman like an unwanted toy.
Reversing direction, we come to the security station foyer where dozens of droids stand in the open. Human sentries and apemen take cover behind portable barriers, pointing phasers towards us. Dynah clenches her fists and lightning bolts streak between unwitting robots which collapse in a heap as the remaining organics shoot.
I drag Dynah from the oncoming fire, taking cover in the doorway and I utilize my X-ray sight to snipe two ape skulls. Withdrawing my phaser, I notice the supergirl's eyes are glowing a light pink, rather than the usual bright red - she appears to be weakening. Skeletons move in for the kill but my quickfire eliminates these self-sacrificing pawns. Return fire misses my shooting hand as my ally summons enough brain-power to unleash a shockwave which catapults a few apemen, but the fodder just keeps coming.
Dynah gasps, hunching her shoulders as a trio of apemen dash into optical view and I realise it is down to me to get us out of here alive. Leaping to avoid phaser fire I stun two enemies mid-air and land on my hip, somehow sensing electricity rippling through Dynah's body as she is shot.
Grabbing the third apeman, I throw him at a human behind a barrier and dodge as many of the energy beams as physically achievable but a high voltage current surges through my body, slowing these legs which cannot afford to stop. I smash a human with the back of my fist, determined to fight on for her sake but a sticky web engulfs my limbs which strain to break free. More phaser fire comes my way and I cannot move in time. Everything fades______________________________________
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
The Inquisition
I awaken on a tilted bed in a cell with a dim blue lamp above my face and four equally dim blue ceiling corner lights. An obscure figure standing before a solid iron door steps forth and I glimpse San Terian regalia but I cannot perceive a face. And I know torture is likely planned because the ruling party like to make their ruthlessness known.
Infamous interrogation techniques can reduce a brain to mush in a matter of minutes but I calmly assess the situation for my chance to escape. Faculties have not fully returned and in my weakened condition I fail to detect any sign of weaponry or back up. The moment my indomitable strength recovers I will break the reinforced door down with a single herculean kick and the fun will recommence. This puny human has no idea who she is dealing with.
'I have some questions and it is in your best interest to comply, but one way or another you are going to tell me what I need to know,' a female voice says.
'Fuck you.'
Every ounce of determination is summoned to break free, but the only responsive body part is my jerking head and there is no form of restraint. Something is rendering my enhanced anatomy helpless and these stupid arms will not obey the instruction to rip this bitch apart. Right now she is in a position to carve flesh to pieces and if she so chooses I will feel every slice of vivisection.
'You have some very interesting characteristics. You're not some ordinary kid from the slums are you? We took the liberty to run a few scans and they showed strong connections between your cerebral lobes, giving rise to enhanced intelligence and a predisposition to delusion. Your physical and mental capabilities were above the ordinary even before they tampered with you. I can see why the rebellion chose to invest so heavily in a child.'
'I'm not a child.'
'I'm sorry young man, so who are you? What is your name?'
'I have no name.'
'Of course you don't,' the elite says with a hint of derision, turning her back to tamper with a device which somehow results in horrifying pain.
'Eargh-argh-ugh-eayah-ergh!'
My perspiring body spasms as nerve-endings burn like clothing has been doused in petrol and ignited by a match. Respiration becomes impossible due to the agony remorselessly invading every bone, ligament, tendon, muscle and organ. Eyeballs roll in sockets as heart ventricles are torn apart and lungs
burst like a pair of balloons! I try desperately to break free, to stop the pain, but superhuman strength counts for nothing. There is no visible cause of this suffering which should not be permissible under the laws of nature.
'The fire. It burns. It burns. Stop. Pl-ea-ss-ee!'
Screams lessen to an exhausted whimper as discomfort eases and mercifully I can breathe again. My tormentor shimmers like a mirage and it is preferable to believe someone so cruel is not actually there. She does not even know who I am.
'There you go, that's better isn't it? You do know I don't want to hurt you? I'd much prefer we were friends. Tell me your name.'
'Arturo. My name's Arturo.'
'Surname?
'Basilides. It makes no difference.'
'That's better, Arturo. Now tell me, how did you start working for the rebellion?'
'What rebellion?'
'Wrong answer. Now I'm going to leave the room for a while. Don't worry, you won't pass out.'
'AAARGHHHHH!'
Unresponsive limbs tremble with the pain of searing and slicing. Eyeball jelly and lips explode and skin is torn off and nails are ripped out and salt is poured into every wound. And this devil refuses to relent because precious genitalia are now being crushed. CRUSHED! This useless lump of meat is not allowed to just die... Mind blank... Who am... What am... Where... When... I cannot.... Why?
'EARRRGHHHHH!'
I sweat away agony as eyesight somehow returns and I do not understand why I was suffering or if the nasty torture actually happened. So confused. A person enters the horrible cell, wearing some sort of regalia. Not sure who this p... Ah yes I remember... Her... This evil woman.
'So Mr Bas.... try again... going to be friends?'
'Ye hu who-eyar-yu ugh?'
'Don't worry... normal. Your memory will... in a second, once... delirium dies down. Now Mr Basilides, I would like us to be friends. And friends do nice things for each other, don't they? This should feel nice, just give it a moment or two.'
A sense of clarity returns as quickly as it went and I ponder the question of this ruthless bitch destroying my sanity, all thanks to her obedience of a monster. Their goddess and the underlord must be two sides of the same being. How else could she allow this? I must resist. I must own my mind. Agony is just a figment of imagination and it can be overcome.
