Uprising

by Justin Kemppainen

  ******

  The gunfire had ceased, but Gregory Michaels yelled again, just in case, "Please, hold your fire! I'm a Citizen!"

  He heard a familiar, rough voice call out, "Is that you, Michaels?"

  Michaels nodded frantically, not caring that they couldn't see it behind the pillar. "Yes, yes it is, please don't shoot!"

  "Are there any of the insurgents left alive in here?"

  Michaels looked directly down at one of them, who stared wide-eyed back up at him. He looked up at the pillar on the other side, which hid the other. "No! They're all dead!" Michaels shouted, eliciting a confused look from both. Not entirely sure why himself, Michaels made a very slight hand gesture that suggested they remain where they were.

  "Step out, slowly!" the voice barked.

  Michaels, with his hands up in the air, stepped around the pillar. In a smoky haze from the breaching explosive, he could make out the forms of at least a dozen black-clad Inquisitors with their leader, Julian Wresh, at the front. Michaels stifled a small laugh at the thought that the High Inquisitor looked terribly short, but the image of Claudia's blank stare came back, and his amusement faded.

  "Michaels, you're still alive," Wresh said, as though it was surprising.

  "Yes, I am," Michaels responded irritably, "No thanks to your trigger happy lunacy." He stepped around the counter, seeing Dunlevy lying beneath Malcolm. His eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, and his mouth hung open. Michael's shook his head. "You killed Arthur, you maniac."

  Wresh scowled. "Mind your tone. I'm very well aware of his traitorous actions, and either way his death is no great loss. Although, his murder of Marcus Coleman did come as a surprise." With the toe of his shoe, he nudged the unmoving body of Malcolm. "Not as surprising as his return from the dead, I suppose." He looked up at Michaels. "Oh well, plenty of time to sort it out in autopsy, don't you agree?"

  Michaels thoughts turned towards the regenerative properties of the sample and wondered if Malcolm was unconscious or simply faking, but he had no idea how quickly or slowly wounds would heal, or if they would cause any detriment to his prodigious strength and speed. He also wondered how much Wresh had heard prior to the breach regarding the technology.

  Michaels decided to shy away from the subject, "He killed Myers as well; in my office."

  An expression crossed the High Inquisitor's face, something confusing. Satisfaction? Triumph? Whatever it was, it quickly was hidden behind a face filled with calm. "Then his death was well-justified. His treason against our city has been punished."

  Michaels couldn't help but feel a loathing towards the diminutive man. "Yes, I suppose, but that doesn't change that your reckless action could have left me fatally wounded as well."

  "It is regrettable. However," Wresh narrowed his eyes, "what you must understand is," he drew his weapon, holding it at his side, "because of Arthur Dunlevy's actions, all of the civilian council members are under suspicion."

  Michaels scowled. "Well that doesn't really matter now, does it? I'm the," he paused, eyes widening, "only one left…"

  Wresh smiled wickedly, and the lines deepened on his face. "Exactly."