by Jade White
Loyalty and love. It was what had made Leopold survive all these harsh and hidden years, that loyalty for the Auberon government, and that love for freedom and for dead family members. What had kept Alexia alive all those years? When she’d had no one, nothing but Dr. Delaney’s careful visits, her meager books, and her mind. It was all she’d had. And she couldn’t even draw on happy memories because she had never had any genuinely happy ones.
Ryker suddenly wished Dr. Barrett were still alive so that he could make some anti-amnesia medication, if that was even possible. He took a deep breath and looked at Leopold’s eyes. “What do I have to do for you?”
Leopold smiled. “What makes you think I need something in exchange?”
“Isn’t that how the world works?”
“You’d be surprised to know that not everyone requires something in exchange,” Leopold replied.
“Isn’t that the reason why you’ve lasted so long?” Ryker pressed on. “You know what you need, and you get what you want. It’s nothing more than mere negotiation to you. So, what do I have to do for you?”
Leopold sighed. “Politics clearly doesn’t agree with you.”
“I think it’s why I was taken away from my parents, if they really were my parents.”
“Well, for starters, I want you to give me a single strand of hair for DNA testing. It’s time to put a rest to all these notions you have of me lying about your past.”
“I wasn’t attacking you personally.”
“You didn’t. But this is to help you come to terms with your true past, that you aren’t just this Philip and Raven Locklear’s son -- that you didn’t just pop out of thin air, rummaging through garbage.”
Ryker nodded. “I’ll do it, but I know it isn’t what you really want from me.”
Leopold couldn’t hide his pleasure. “You’re almost like your grandfather.” He leaned forward. “I want you to be the face of this uprising when the perfect time comes.”
“Perfect time?” Ryker repeated. “You’ve waited a hundred years. What makes you think I’ll still be alive by then?”
“What makes you think you won’t? It isn’t a difficult task, Ryker. Although it is something new to all of us.”
“You plan to start another civil war? A third civil war?”
“Of course not, my boy. I just want the Caledons toppled down, after what they did to all of us, to Alexia- after what he did to you.”
Ryker felt the urgency in his voice. Didn’t they need a show of force for this? To induce paranoia into the Caledon regime? He couldn’t quite grasp the scope of the community’s plans, but it was something far bigger than he had assumed.
“What do I have to do if I become that?” Ryker asked.
“Encourage the citizens to sway to our cause, slowly, little by little,” Leopold told him. “You don’t even have to fight-”
“I have to. I was made to fight.”
“You were made to be a child; you were made because your parents wanted to see you become an upstanding citizen. You weren’t made for the WereGames, and you certainly weren’t made to become Caledon’s military pawn. That’s what’s wrong with his rule. The oppressed became his poker chips --” he paused, seeing Ryker frown. “It’s part of gambling-”
“I know,” Ryker said, remembering Mr. Toretti, “and you’re the liberator who can put a stop to this? To the mandatory registrations, and the frequent poaching, and the torture of werebeings?”
“Not I. We. But in most uprisings, people will need to draw inspiration. Even werebeings need that, Ryker.”
Ryker hated the idea of being the role model for their cause. He hated being the center of attention, disliked being surrounded in an enclosed space with hundreds of people. He had always been a lone being, and the thought of sentiment had sent him running for the hills -- until he’d met Alexia.
“I need to know your plans first. Every step of the way, I need to know.”
“Done,” Leopold said. “Nothing shall be hidden from you.”
“And one last thing. What’s my real name?”
“Caleb. Caleb Auberon. Don’t you find it wonderful how your name fits you perfectly?”
“I don’t even know what it means,” Ryker responded.
“Caleb means ‘great leader.’ Auberon means ‘bear.’ It’s like saying you’re the ‘Great Bear Leader,’” Leopold told him with a twinkle in his eyes. “The stars have begun to align for us, Caleb. The sky and the earth will be in our grasp once more.”
CHAPTER SIX
Alexia was staring listlessly into nothing. She couldn’t feel the tubes running down her body; the monitors beeped ceaselessly while she sat on the bed. She had woken up with fragmented memories again. There was something there that she desperately wanted to recall. There was a small window across her bedroom, but she couldn’t move for it. Her body was too tired.
The doors hissed open, and in stepped a young man in fatigues. He had multiple injuries on his face, and some scars had turned reddish as a part of the healing process. She looked at him for a second, and then she looked away.
Caliban had been given special permission to visit A129, despite the volatility they could present to each other. It was given a close watch by Dr. Wallace, of course. Caliban personally wanted to test himself, to see if he still showed weakness with Alexia in such close proximity.
“Alexia,” he began, clearing this throat. It sounded weird to say her name in a kind manner after a month-long pursuit.
“Who are you?” she asked, not looking at him.
“I was- I was someone you loved,” he said, narrowing his eyes.
“You were?” Her voice sounded far away, like she had been put under some trance. “What happened to you? To us?”
“Some big explosion in the lab,” Caliban said, rehearsing what he had been taught to say.
“I loved you?” She was looking at him quizzically now. “What sort of love was it?”
“We were supposed to be married,” he breathed out, wanting his lie to become reality.
“Marriage. Is that still allowed? I’ll be stuck here for a while-”
“We can get special permission,” he interjected. “But only when you’re better.”
“Why? What’s wrong with me?” she asked, trying to make some sense out of what he was saying. “I don’t even know who you are.”
“I’m Caliban. We played together as children. We sort of grew up together until I started training for the military.”
“And you’ve come back to see me?”
“I wanted to see how you were doing.”
“I’m stuck here. What’s wrong with me?” she asked again.
“You- you just need to get better. They’re people who can help you,” he told her, trying to find the right words to say.
“I want to get out,” she demanded with a frown.
“I can’t do that-”
“If you love me, I want to get out,” she said.
“It doesn’t work that way, but I will do my best,” he said.
“You’re not listening to me. I said if you love me, I want to get out,” she enunciated the last few words very slowly, her eyes narrowing.
“I’ll see what I can do, Alexia.”
“It doesn’t sound like you will. You’re half-heartedly saying this just to make me feel better. You know, you’re another liar that I’ve come across today. Everyone in this lab is a liar.”
It sent a slight chill down Caliban’s spine. Something was off about her. Dr. Wallace had told him that she had been injected with a memory-altering serum and that they could manipulate her memories. Caliban had done so, but it was backfiring. Her whole character had changed dramatically, and gone was the kindness he had been used to as a child.
He said nothing more as she stared at him in an almost cold fashion, then he spun on his boots and left the room, disturbed by what he had just seen and heard from her. Her words should have meant nothing, but the way she had almost commanded him to
let her out… he took a shaky breath. When he looked up, he saw Dr. Wallace calmly standing in front of him, a pleasant smile plastered on his slit-thin lips.
“You want to ask me something?” Dr. Wallace presumed.
Caliban took another breath, hating himself for being so curious about Alexia’s condition. “Yes. What was that?”
“What was what?”
“She changed.”
“People change, soldier.”
“No,” he shook his head, “it was different. It was as if -- it was as if she was far crueler.”
“You haven’t seen her in a while, in a controlled environment,” Dr. Wallace said. “Give her some time to adjust. That serum must’ve sedated her heavily prior to seeing you.”
Caliban shook his head again. “It was -- I was disturbed.”
“All the better, then,” Dr. Wallace told him. “It only means she’s making progress with healing. Her wit is intact.”
Caliban decided to leave, saluting his superior, his mind still boggled by what he had seen. Dr. Wallace looked at the young soldier’s retreating figure. He had heard their conversation, having put the room under surveillance.
So, Caliban loved her. X013 had loved her for a long time, and he could do nothing about it. Ah, young love – always destroyed by Caledon’s regime. It was nothing new, although it was rare for two youngsters to fall in love under his experimentations. The majority of them died; some of them drifted away from each other, torn by duty for country and the need to survive.
Caliban had probably carried this torch for A129 since childhood. Too bad Edith was no longer here; it would have made for an interesting social and psychological experiment. The young soldier had been right to feel weirded out by A129’s demands. It seemed that the altering serum had changed not only her memories but her core personality as well.
Gone was the complacent young woman. Now, she asked questions; she commanded as if she had been used to it for so long. A129 had become far more aggressive. Perhaps his serum had proved to be too strong; perhaps it had altered her skills as well, and a touch was no longer needed to control werebeings to shift and to revert to human form. Perhaps all she needed now were words. Words were very powerful…
He looked at her from the one-way glass; she was staring listlessly into the air as if she had never been abrasive toward Caliban. It was a marvelous shift in behavior. Had he overdosed her on certain chemicals? He took out his notebook and began to scribble his findings on the recent serum’s effects. It was dangerous, yet useful, if she could control by way of speech. Alexia was well on her way to becoming a valuable biological weapon to control every werebeing in the country, and then the world.
*
Two weeks later…
It was a dinner for show, but it wasn’t reported on the state-run channels. Caledon just wanted to show his close aides and allies that Stephen was doing well, despite the loss of a limb. It was a smaller than usual event of a hundred people, including top generals and benefactors – including Stephen’s fiancé and her family.
Stephen struggled to keep his temper in as he smiled, greeting people with his new prosthetic arm. Some had been careful enough not to mention it, but others were overwhelmed by the sudden change in appendage. That included his fiancé.
Jeanne Callaway approached him, lightly kissing his cheek. He could sense her discomfort by the mere glance at his new arm.
“Steph,” she breathed out. “I wanted to see you.”
Indeed, it was true, Stephen thought. JJ had personally told him that Jeanne had insisted on seeing him over two weeks ago. It had not been on the news that the President’s son had nearly died and lost one arm completely, but it had been whispered in their circles – circles which were much larger than Stephen had assumed.
“It’s okay; I wasn’t in very good shape,” Stephen forced himself to say. He had been high on painkillers three days ago and had painfully weaned himself off of them, relying on the ‘feel-good’ vitamins that Dr. Wallace gave him. Boy, was he glad that they were working now. They were not enough, however, to mask his observations, especially when it came to family and his recent fiancé.
He was glad that she hadn’t forced her way into seeing him. Even if there was no romantic attachment involved, it would have been a shame for him to have been seen that way – oftentimes delirious, oftentimes depressed. At night, he woke up in a panic, afraid that someone would take his arm away, only to find out that he no longer had an arm.
His body had accepted his prosthetics quite well, despite the pain being consistent from where it had been cut off. And although it bothered him, the thought of disappointing their family name and his father bothered him more. He was determined to push through, to put on a brave face at tonight’s dinner.
“Still…” Jeanne told him, her voice fading. She forced a soft smile. Jeanne was looking extra attractive tonight, obvious with her makeup and carefully chosen lavender evening gown that gave off the illusion that she had curves.
She didn’t really care about him much. It was all for show, of course, he knew. It was the harsh reality of life. The only person who cared for him the least bit would be his older brother, who was busy talking to a few generals, carrying a highball glass filled with his preferred liquor (Stephen knew JJ disliked alcohol and that he had probably watered his drink down).
“Come,” Jeanne told him, trying to make light of her discomfort; “we have to talk to mother and father.”
Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Callaway. Mr. Callaway had had a conversation with the president, a private one, and even JJ had been excluded. His future father-in-law was a ruthless businessman who enjoyed the mayhem his company had made. At least he had something in common with Mr. Callaway – they were both hungry for power and recognition…
Stephen allowed himself to be dragged to another area of the ballroom, with Jeanne lightly holding his hand, his real, fleshy hand. Everyone had been engrossed to see his prosthetic arm, knowing Dr. Wallace had worked wonders on it. There was something about Jeanne’s discomfort that troubled him, though. Did a physical change matter so much? It would only be an arranged marriage, after all, and he would still have a complete set of appendages, even if one arm needed weekly maintenance checks. His arm ran on his blood, along with a few robotic parts that needed replacing once a year to keep it free from the damages that accumulated with daily use.
He could will his arm and hand to do what he wanted it to do, but it would take months of practice. Sometimes his grip would loosen, and objects would drop from his hand. It frustrated him, and Dr. Wallace would gently remind him that it was all part of the process. A new arm was a new arm, after all.
He saw his brother excuse himself from the corner of his eye, leaving the room. Stephen followed suit; he caught up with his brother in an empty drawing room. He was standing alone, watching the city lights and the White House’s gardens filled with white snow.
“What are you doing here?” JJ asked, knowing he had entered.
“Breather,” Stephen said shortly. “You?”
“Same. It’s like I took a cigarette break of sorts, but they’re the cigarettes.”
Stephen almost laughed but he didn’t, and he took another step forward, standing beside his brother. “I don’t think I can marry her.”
“Why are you backing out?”
“She doesn’t want to marry me either.”
“It’s not about either of you wanting to marry. It’s doing your job, and she will do hers because her father’s ambition is commonplace for the country’s one percent. Everyone wants to rub shoulders with us because they fear us; they fear what father can and will do, and it goes the same for us as well.”
“I don’t fear father.”
JJ said nothing, knowing it was Stephen’s whole aim to make the President notice his abilities. Only a fool wouldn’t fear the President. He was all-powerful, almost like a living god, except his father bled and needed constant vitamins from Dr. Wallace to keep himself funct
ioning properly as any strong-willed leader should. Those vitamins were steroids, JJ knew, and he kept away from them. Dr. Wallace was a crack-doctor of sorts, despite his brilliance, and JJ didn’t trust the renowned doctor one bit.
“Of course, you don’t,” JJ relented, knowing Stephen was waiting for a response.
“Do you?”
JJ took a breath. “Yes, there are moments that I do. It’s the only way I’ll learn to lead --” he stopped, nearly implicating himself.
“You actually think you’ll be next in line? Like this is some monarchy?” Stephen suddenly scoffed at him. “What if I was chosen for this?”
“Then I’ll gladly step aside, even if I was considered.”
Stephen’s eyes darkened. “What makes you think I wasn’t even considered?”
“I said nothing about that,” JJ said, surprised by his brother’s sudden accusation. “Don’t act like a child; I’m only out for the welfare of- -”
“The people?” Stephen interrupted. “Spoken like a true politician.”
“I’d rather be a statesman than a politician, and you of all people should know that,” JJ said. “You think I wanted this in my life? You think I wanted to see people die, to see people-” He stopped, taking a deep breath, realizing he had let too much emotion out. “You’re too absorbed in your warped little world.”
“You think I’m just going to let you get away with the presidency?” Stephen asked, taking a step closer towards JJ.
JJ stood his ground, noticing the near frenzied stare in his younger brother’s eyes, almost as if he was about to shift himself. He heard Stephen’s bionic hand lock into place as if readying it for a blow. “What did Dr. Wallace give you?” JJ whispered.
Stephen blinked and realized he was fisting his bionic palm as hard as he could. He immediately stepped away from his older brother’s reach, his heart pounding. For a moment there, he couldn’t control himself. He took a shuddering breath in, afraid that something had taken over him and was still going to take over him. He blinked, forcing the rage in him to go away.
