Chapter 13

Read from the start here: Chapter One

Calcon was Gaia’s oldest town and, as a result, much of Natalos’ biggest achievements and inventions had begun there. Some came from nowhere as ideas or inventions, concocted in the mind of a genius or ordinary folk chancing upon a brainwave. Others came from scientific study, developing concepts they knew about already until they were damn near perfected. Over the centuries, Gaia grew and eventually inhabiting other planets became a necessity, thus a method of interplanetary transport was required. During the early days, flight was considered, but due to its expense and massive scale it never really developed beyond the early exploratory journeys, but then the ability to hone magical energy became prevalent and so the Sending was invented.

It was a rather simple process in theory, creating a direct magical link between two locations, and transporting a person through it in a matter of seconds. However, the cost to initiate a sending was incredibly high, in terms of both the magical energy needed to maintain the link and the health of the person sustaining it, and as a result only a handful of people in Natalos were authorised to perform one; namely, the Governors, and them alone. Rarely did circumstances however permit such a situation. Upon consideration, a covert mission to the heart of Kadira, a barely hospitable island on Gaia and domain of all who felt themselves outcast to society, to confirm the identity of a dangerous and long thought deceased criminal, seemed like a legitimate use of such a method. Thus Governor Nikodemus had come to The Trust’s headquarters to perform Susan’s sending.

Unfortunately, this one hadn’t gone to plan.

Almost immediately after it began, suffocation enveloped Susan, stealing every breath she had and leaving her utterly powerless. At the same moment, her vision blossomed and despite the incredible discomfort she felt, such was the brilliance of the light that filled her sight it felt as if she was looking directly into the sun. There was a surreal, tangible beauty to it. All of her weight and physical presence instantly disappeared and she felt pure exhilaration for the briefest time, but in a matter of milliseconds all that ended, only to bring about something horrifying in its place.

As she travelled through the portal, the whole world instantly collapsed around her, crushing everything from sight and leaving her trapped in a vacuum unable to move or scream. Time stretched so thin that every second felt like an eternity. There was no way for her to describe what she was experiencing, except for the pain. While she had never been drowned before, she was sure thi

Susan awoke from the tangible nightmare to find herself laid flat out on the ground. A foreign land greeted her as she opened her eyes, and she found herself looking up at a red sky teeming with ashen clouds and a blast of intense heat rolling over her causing her to sweat. Realising she hadn’t taken a breath for what felt like days, she quickly inhaled a mouthful of dusty air, which caused her to cough uncontrollably. Moments later, a stranger in a helmet peered over her, trying to attach some alien object to her face, talking to her in some language she couldn’t understand. What was happening?

Strange words came out of his mouth, and while she fought her own choking, she struggled to interpret what he was saying. The man kept pushing the mysterious item, a bulky object of a colour similar to the sky, towards her face, but she was too weak to put up much resistance.

“…this on! Can you hear me?”

Recognition. This time, she took the words in, but her persistent coughing didn’t allow her to reply. Instead she nodded, hoping that was enough to get the stranger to understand her. It turns out it was, as the stranger began to talk some more, while he fastened whatever he was holding over her head and instantaneously she took in a breath of cool, clear oxygen. The heat around her seemed to dissipate and her breathing calmed down.

“Can you stand?”

She shook her head. Getting up was impossible right now, that she knew. With good air to breathe now, her coughing fit had slowed right down, but a sly, painful cough still escaped her lips.

“I’m going to have to drag you!”

The stranger was a fairly young guy; his eyes bore a few creases around the edge, but she felt these were likely brought on from difficult experiences rather than age, as his pupils sparkled with the eagerness that came with youth. He said something else to her as he pulled her away, with unexpected strength she noticed, but the wind around them swirled and caused the words to become lost in the atmosphere. The swirling mess inside her brain retreated, and she suddenly realised that she recognised him from somewhere.

Placing him was still difficult, especially with his face partially covered, so she put it out of her mind for now. If he was rescuing her, it was unlikely that he could be any foe of hers. Then she wondered what exactly he was pulling her from, and feeling a little hesitant, she twisted herself around with what little strength she had left and looked behind her.

Fifty feet in the distance and counting, partially obscured by a cluster of rocks, Susan could see somebody else, in attire remarkably similar to the stranger currently dragging her. This person, female at a guess, was moving around in a frantic manner, jumping around and erratically moving backwards. As she looked on though, it soon became clear that this wasn’t a panicked movement, nor was it as she second guessed some sort of rhythmic pattern or dance. This was someone who was defending themselves from an attack.

Suddenly, the attackers leapt into view from behind the rock cluster. Two of them, towering over this person by at least a foot, advanced towards the defender. They had a similar build to a human, but there was something about the way they were moving that led Susan to believe that these weren’t your average people. They were bigger, stronger and moved in an eerie, most unnatural manner which sent a shiver down her spine. Susan screamed.

A memory forced its way to the front of her mind, and took her by surprise. She realised she was staring directly at the creatures she had read so many reports about this morning. Seeing them in person was awful, but instinctively she started to wonder what they were doing here, so many thousands of miles away from where they’d first been spotted. They were supposed to be a freak occurrence, but were now appearing across the other side of the world too. This was more than a coincidence.

The monsters moved to within inches of the stranger, but whoever she was, the defender  appeared to be agile enough so that every time it seemed they had her finished, she slipped out of their reach and dug in a quick jab with their blade plus a blast of magical energy. Unfortunately none of this seemed to do anything other than infuriate the creatures and Susan wasn’t sure how long the person would last. Thinking about how they were dressed though, the two strangers she’d met must have known one another…

All of a sudden, things clicked into place. Both of these people were the agents that Dougal Smith had sent with her to Kadira to identify Rogan. Memories, or rather sense, came flooding back to her.

“Selina!” Susan forced herself to say, despite how much it hurt her to do so. She flung her arm in the agents direction, but this didn’t seem to register with Rashwad, the man dragging her. That, or he was purposely heading in the opposite direction.

Relentlessly, he kept pulling her along the rough ground, and try as she might, she just wasn’t able to stop him. He wasn’t particularly muscular but his strength was overwhelming.

It was a good few minutes before he stopped, deciding to rest after visibly struggling against the environment and Susan’ attempts to slow him down, which must have expended a lot his energy. They had stopped in a small ravine, protected from the worst of the horrendous dust and ash storm on two sides by the natural rock formation. Should anything happen to pass by and see them, they were wide open to attack, but to the vast flat area nearby they were hidden, at least for the time being.

Susan’s breathing had resumed normal rhythym but her strength had yet to return. Maybe she shouldn’t have tried to resists Rashwad. For all she knew, he may have been protecting her, but to let his own partner fend off two stronger creatures by herself? She would need to ask him why. She forced herself to sit up against the wall as the agent, who hadn’t yet spoken a word since they stopped, took out a small kettle of water concealed within his suit and took a swig from it. When he was done, he offered it to her, and she gratefully took it.

“What happened?”

Susan greedily swallowed half of what was left before she answered.

“I don’t know.” Her brow creased as she cast her mind back over the past few minutes. “It felt like I was being crushed, or something. It’s really hard to describe, but I was scared. I think something went wrong with the sending, and next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor and almost choking to death.”

Rashwad took the kettle back and capped it. He kept his gaze on Susan, but without acknowledging what she said.

“You left your partner behind.”

He looked away.

“Selina was a few metres away and now she’s probably injured or dead. You could’ve gone to save her!”

“You’re the asset, not her.”

“Asset?” Susan rolled her eyes. “I would’ve been fine where I was, so don’t blame this on me! You could go back and rescue her right now, it may not be too late.”

“The mission comes first.” He responded, coolly.

“So you’re just going to let her die? She’s in your team-“

“Will you shut the fuck up already?”

Susan felt the conversation slip away from her. No words came, so she was forced to listen instead.

“Don’t you get it? She was collateral damage! She was never going to make it further than our arrival.” He stood up, carefully putting the kettle back onto his suit. “You’re the one I need to get inside the base. That’s it.”

Susan observed him carefully. His stance showed confidence, even arrogance, but his eyes betrayed him. They showed something she hadn’t seen since her ex-boyfriend left her two years ago; betrayal.

“We’re going to wait here for five minutes, then you’re going to get up and we walk the rest of the way.”

“What about those creatures? The ones that killed Selina?”

“They won’t bother us.”

“Then why is Selina-”

In a moment of clarity, her second since she landed on Kadira, Susan fully realised what was going on. Her eyes widened and a wave of fear washed down her.

“You’re… working with Rogan?” The gasp came shortly after his subtle nod. She struggled to swallow the lump in her throat. “Then you’re going to kill me.”

Rashwad cocked his head back and laughed. Not even a quiet one either. The sound, which cut right through her, echoed down the rocky canyon around them.

“You have no clue what’s going on.” Rashwad wiped the visor on his helmet, clearing it temporarily from the erratic red dust clouds blowing across the ravine. “Why would I want to kill you? Why else would I bring you all the way out here only to dispose of you, when I could have easily done so in Crutch’s office?”

“Self-preservation?” Even she could sense how wrong she was.

“I’m a hired gun. My life doesn’t matter, only the task at hand does.”

“Then you’ve been brainwashed, that’s what this guy does-“

“You stupid bitch.” He crossed his arms and strode over to where she lay propped up. “Rogan can’t control people! What do you think we are, robots?”

“He’s done it before.”

“He targeted the weak minded and convinced them to fight for him. Anybody can do what he did.”

“You’re naïve.”

“And you’re dumber than I thought.”

Susan scowled. It was feeble, and wouldn’t change anything, but what else could she do in this situation?

“What the hell does he want me for?” She enquired.

“Your part…” He took in a deep breath and lingered for a moment. It was obvious the man was enjoying the drama of the situation. “You’re a cog in a giant machine. But luckily for you, you’re a bigger cog than you ever could’ve imagined.” Rashwad followed this by breaking into a huge belly laugh again. The noise was piercing, agitating even. Enough to push Susan into action.

Seizing a rare moment of his weakness, and feeling like she couldn’t wait any longer, Susan raised her bent leg and extended it with as much force as she could muster, directly head on into the mirthful soldier’s knee.

Immediately, she heard a horrifying crunch and a split second later the tall man fell, crumpled up into a mess of arms and crooked legs, a loud scream of pain accompanying him as he went down. Susan struggled to her feet, but by the time she was moving away from their sheltered spot, Rashwad had already begun to recover. She slipped away as quickly as she could.

All around her was nothing but red sand. Where she was going she had no idea, but so long as she lost herself in the low visibility of the dust/sandstorms and with her pursuer at a definite disadvantage, she felt like was in with a chance of getting away.

Unfortunately, her earlier sending experience had left her almost completely devoid of stamina, and it was only a few short seconds before her breaths became heavy and wheezy once more. She couldn’t prevent herself from coughing again, but this time it hurt to do so. Susan checked her gloved hands to find tiny flecks of blood spattered all over them, meaning that her throat was incredibly raw and delicate and ultimately this escape attempt was going to be a lot harder than she thought. There was still no sign of Rashwad luckily as she turned around to glimpse behind her, but the storm was now far worse than it was before they took rest and visibility was way down. Rashwad could be just a few metres away in any direction. She persevered.

Her thoughts turned to her escape attempt. Had she hurt him severely enough to stop him, or simply slow him down? The crack suggested something had broken, but it potentially only dislocated his knee and could be fixed. Could you even dislocate a knee? Susan never stopped moving, but her pace was limited. If he was on his feet, it would surely only be a matter of time before he caught up. Then what would he do? He’d made it clear he was not intending to kill her, but what was her part in all of this? Her job provided her with great access to the surveillance of the whole of Natalos, so maybe it was that Rogan was after, but how did they find out about it? The only one who knew about it was-

“Got you, you little bitch!”

Rashwad had somehow encircled her, in such a short time as to surprise Susan, and couldn’t help but alert her as he sprung out from her right side to grab hold of her. Exhausted and injured herself, instinct took over as Susan dug her feet in for a final lunge that depleted her remaining energy, just about managing to dodge the agents arm as he swung it towards her, causing him to fall straight to the floor. As he did so, she noticed he was clutching his left leg so it was clear the damage had been severe.

Susan was still standing as she spun around, and was about to attempt a half-hearted dash directly away from her pursuer when she noticed the ground give way to open air about two steps further on. Had she not seen it, she imagined she would have fallen to her death, even though the distance to the ground was masked by the ridiculously low visibility. She contemplated her options, but before she knew it, a hand grabbed the nape of her neck.

“You think you can outrun a highly trained soldier on foot in a foreign land?” He spat down to his feet as she turned to face him, shaking free of his grip but with no way to bypass him without getting caught. “My only mistake was thinking you were too stupid to try a move like that. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“What do you want from me?” The words left her lips, not with frustration or panic, but with a controlled anger.

“You’ll see. Move.”

Susan took a step backwards. She could feel the drop beneath her toes now. Looking down, she saw no end to the fall and so any escape by jumping off here was an incredibly risky proposition. It didn’t help her to know about the geography of the area, information she had learned from her job, that it consisted mostly of uneven surfaces with great peaks and large canyons. A lump appeared in her throat.

“Move!” His words were tinged with an icy tone. He reached out to grab her again which this time she couldn’t avoid, but it felt loose this time. Maybe he hadn’t the strength left in him to drag her.

“I’m not an idiot. I know that whatever’s waiting there for me isn’t something I want any part of, and besides, you’ve given too much away today. You need me, you said so yourself. Or rather, Rogan needs me.”

“You try to escape again and I don’t care what the consequences are, I’ll murder you myself. You’ve got no moves left to make.”

“I’ve got one move, dickhead.”

Susan raised her arm in front of her and made a huge swiping gesture into his forearm, forcing  Rashwad to let go for the briefest moment. It was enough. With one feeble push, Susan threw herself off the edge and into the darkness below and the last thing she remembered was the frustrated scream coming from her captor as he watched her fall out of his reach.

Chapter 12

Read from the start here: Chapter One

The compact black watch on his arm showed the minute hand quivering towards the top. Fredo took a deep breath and sighed, staving off a mighty yawn. His timepiece’s battery was running out, and he didn’t have any spare, which boded poorly for his timekeeping today.

Mechanical technology had been mostly abandoned hundreds of years ago, shortly after the rise of magical energy integration, which had solely revolutionised the way people lived. Instead of wasting limited resources on powering the world around them, now everything could be run by a plentiful, easily renewable source and as a result, the need for mechanics withered. However, as one would expect, the Nomag community resisted this change, and took it upon themselves to keep the integrated tech out of their lives wherever they could. While the traditional mechanical skills and methods could still be learned, nearly all considered it outdated and unnecessary and thus it dwindled, kept alive by only a few die hard Nomag groups who passed the knowledge on, even learning a few new tricks across the years.

What that ultimately meant was that finding batteries to power his antique watch was an incredibly expensive affair for Fredo. The last he purchased from a Nijer trader for over 500 Sterling, but he thought it would last more than the two years it had. Nevertheless, according to the office clock it was just past nine a.m. now, and yet he had only read through half of Susan’s reports. A junior colleague had just dumped another eleven next to the unread pile.

Something however had been beckoning for his attention all morning, a previous engagement he had seen fit to plan prior to the news of Rogan’s return. That in itself messed his plans; the task of informing the office had been thrust upon him by Susan, and it was the last thing he really wanted to do. Whatever dalliances he had arranged though, he knew this was ultimately more important. He couldn’t leave his colleagues hanging when they deserved to know just as much as he did so he stood up, walked past the sodden, scorched memorial where the espresso machine once stood and placed himself just a couple of metres from the department boardroom. He cleared his throat.

“Excuse me, if I could have your attention for a moment.” He spoke calmly, but with distinction. The man never had trouble directing peoples interest his way. “I’m going to keep this brief because I know as little about it as you shortly will.

“There is no doubt that you’re all anticipating some big development this morning, which is why most of you were brought in hours before the start of your shifts. However, the nature of the situation is far greater than many of you would have guessed. There is no easy way to say this, but there have been unconfirmed reports brought to Crutch’s attention in the early hours of the day, that suggest Rogan may be alive.”

While not the panicked shuffling and murmuring that he had been expecting, there was still a semi synchronised gasp from the floor. Not leaving them any time to absorb the scope of the news, Fredo jumped straight back in.

“It’s a very serious situation as you can imagine, and is being dealt with in a very carefully plotted manner. I urge you not to panic, nor to leak this incredibly sensitive information and risk inciting a needless panic. We will be given our orders shortly, so until then just keep yourselves focused on whatever you have to do.”

Fredo surveyed the department. Familiar faces were painted with fear and confusion while some more estranged colleagues looked over to him as if expecting more updates. As for himself, he didn’t know what to think. It seemed ridiculous that somebody could come back from the dead, it went against everything that science had taught him.

“Rogan reincarnated himself, is that it? That’s impossible!” Came a shout from the furthest end of the room, near Susan’s office.

“I’m afraid I’m not the one to ask about that, I’m as baffled as you are. The only thing I know for sure is that it will inevitably fall to us to protect the citizens of Natalos sometime soon. When that time comes, we need to be prepared, so until then, remain calm as best as you can, help each other out and focus on whatever you’re given.”

It was a speech full of typically cack-handed phrases, but considering he knew only what Susan had told him, it really was the best he could do. Fredo nodded politely and stepped back before making a beeline to the office exit. As he slunk away, he hoped nobody would give chase with questions he knew he couldn’t answer.

Taking another look at his watch, he noted that the time was now dead on nine o’clock.

“Perfect.” He said.

“What is?” Came the response, completely throwing him off his plan.

Fredo turned to where the voice came from, and saw Susan standing in the corridor, just stepping out of the lift looking a bit frazzled.

‘Damnit!’ Fredo thought, but instantly flashed his smile and took steps towards her.

“Oh, nothing,” Came the words, masking his true reaction. “I just realised that I’ve already been in work for a few hours when I was only meant to start at 8. It’s gonna be a long day!”

Susan took a few seconds to analyse him.

“Nothing ever bothers you, does it?”

Fredo shrugged. “We’ll find a way through this. We did before.”

 “This is serious Fredo.” Susan responded, unconvinced.

He sensed a bitter undertone in her voice.

“He’s not just a murderer, he’s a brain washing, mass murdering cult leader who just rose from the dead!”

“I’m not disputing the fact that he’s a dangerous guy, of course I know that.” Fredo put his arm on her shoulder. “Just think about it though. We’ve got the heads up on him this time, right? He won’t have years to build up his army, which is how he got so far before. We’ll probably take him down before he’s even had dinner. That and you know they never found his body when he died last time.”

“I wish I was that confident.” Susan looked away.

“You’ve got a lot on your plate. Plus you don’t exactly have your usual backup.”

“Well, when the coffee machine tries to kill you, I can’t help but think that’s a sign to lay off the caffeine.” She let loose a little smirk. “Besides, I haven’t got time for one right now.”

“How come?”

“I… can’t tell you.”

Immediately, Fredo’s thoughts began to race around inside his head. The two of them were close enough that Susan had always been able to share things with him, it’s one of the things he liked about her so much. In fact, not several minutes ago she had told him about Rogan coming back before anyone else in the office and now, all of a sudden, he was not privy to something?

“Is it serious?” His arm dropped to his side.

“It’s confidential.” She paused, deliberating something. “I can’t elaborate, I wish I could but I can’t. I’ve informed Crutch that you are going to assume my responsibilities until I return-“

“Woah, wait a second. You’re heading out somewhere?”

Silence. Fredo lowered his voice, speaking with real concern now.

“Can’t you at least tell me if it’s dangerous?”

“I’ve already said too much.” Susan took a step back, and only a blind man could have missed the worried look on her face. “Please look after everyone until I come back. I won’t be long.”

She rapidly turned on her heel and headed back down the corridor towards the elevator. Fredo was trying to piece everything he could together, but there was too much going on for him to think straight. He checked his watch briefly, noting he was already a few minutes late for his meeting and cursed himself for not having enough time to confront her. He resisted running after Susan, instead settling for raising his voice in the empty place where they stood.

“Susan!”

She had already pushed the button for the elevator, but she turned around to face him just as the doors opened.

“Please, look after yourself. I love you.”

It was all he could think to say to her at that moment, and as the doors closed in front of her, he swore he didn’t even see her react. Fredo felt like kicking himself.

There was no time to ponder over this. He was far too late already, so for the time being he pushed everything that had just happened to the very furthest reaches of his mind and moved on. He picked up the pace as he strode down a side corridor and took a right through an unlocked door. A couple of signs on the doors on the left hand side indicated that they were the toilets, but it was the unmarked doorway further on from all of those which he intended to enter. Fredo took a few seconds to observe either end of the area where he stood, finally accepting he was alone before stepping quietly inside.

The room was bare and unglamorous which was to be expected, particularly as it was simply storage for the janitorial staff. A couple of unused mops, paper towels and toilet rolls were stacked clumsily on a wire shelving unit on one side of the room, and just behind them stood a shadowy figure roughly as tall as him.

“You’re late.” The voice announced coolly.

“I’m sorry, I know we don’t have much time here.” Fredo replied.

The mysterious person stepped out from their hiding place and into the dull, blue light of the room. Hands resting against her slender hips, beautiful white hair trailing down her shoulders and a serious pouty face greeted him. “Then let’s get started.”

“Definitely.” Fredo took a few steps towards her. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

Next Chapter: CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Chapter 11

Read from the start here: Chapter One


The knocking ceased.


All of the furniture that somehow remained intact, including the bed, a cabinet and two small chairs, had been stacked very clumsily against the door, while a lone light bulb swung restlessly from the ceiling. Two partially shredded curtains billowed gently along the window with the glass inside the frame cracked but still intact.


As the silence continued, a feeling of peace began to trickle into the room, like a soothing tributary from a raging river, particularly now the thumping and shouting had stopped. The room was decently sized, consisting of a rectangular main area with a small corridor leading off to a bathroom and the only entrance, which was now blocked. The occupant, anticipating a second assault, considered this a good thing as it would allow him to put up a good defence. The reality was that he didn’t want to face that unless it was absolutely necessary. He just wanted to get out.


It was never meant to be like this.


Zidane, for that was the name of the boy currently sat hugging his knees beneath the windowsill, appeared distressed and panicked. Never before in his short life had he felt so in control of his own actions, but just as gorging one’s self after weeks of starvation brings on a stomach ache, he had evidently overdone it and was now feeling some undesirable effects, including a roaring headache and weak, shaky limbs. As a result he had almost destroyed this place and yet even if he had done, one thing stood firm in his mind; they deserved it.


Exactly fifty eight minutes had passed since he had woken this morning, in a room seven floors down and around five hundred feet away. Zidane knew this, because even at eleven years old, the boy’s mental capabilities far exceeded his peers, though without any recollection of ever meeting any, this was a gift he’d yet to realise the significance of. To him, whoever and whatever he was, he was just a normal boy, but this rather ironically was not the case at all.


The day began in the final remnants a dream in which Zidane recalled fleeing across a luscious grassy field in the hazy dawn sunshine. Who he was running from and where he was headed to had been subsequently forgotten; the details slipped away as soon as he heard the deafening footsteps that came from outside his subconscious cocoon. They originated from the white coats, simply named for the uniforms they wore, who were coming to check on him like they did every morning, leading him to wake up in the same gaol cell where he’d spent most of his entire life. It was more than likely not a prison, but it certainly felt like one.


Immediately upon awakening, something in the room felt… different. He looked around as far as he could from his position strapped to the bed, but he couldn’t see anything amiss nor was there anybody else around. The room itself was bare and windowless except for a single strip light on the ceiling and the bed, and though he wasn’t able to see underneath his bed, his gut told him there was nobody there either. Zidane had worked out many months ago that the white coats were always watching him even when they weren’t in the room, but as for how they were doing it he was clueless.


That particular revelation occurred shortly after a regular visit, when he had seized an unlikely opportunity to steal something from them. It was only a small metal disk, inscribed with a script of some language and an image on both sides, but it excited him immensely. The best thing was, they hadn’t noticed at all. After waiting for them to leave and adding a few minutes of idling time just to make sure they weren’t coming back (an unscheduled return had never occurred during his entire stay here, but it never hurt to be sure), he opened up his hand and tried to examine the object from his restrained position. Zidane had absolutely no idea what it was, or how it could be used, but he was certain it wasn’t going to help him get out of here. Intent on keeping it regardless, he tucked it between the mattress underneath his buttocks but only a few seconds later, he could hear the white coats coming back. No sooner had they entered the room, had they snatched it away from its exact location without hesitance, saying nothing to him and then leaving just as quickly. The only explanation was that they had seen him put it there and he just couldn’t work out how it was being done. Zidane felt completely and utterly violated after that, and the feeling hadn’t changed much since.


This morning he experienced a similarly inward sensation, but this had the complete opposite feeling. No other emotion he had experienced came close to this. It filled him with hope.


Distracting Zidane from this thought, the door was opened firmly by two white coats. With their large builds and grimaced faces, their only mission at this time was to check that he was alive (if he had still been sleeping, they would’ve forcefully but silently woken him up) and look for contraband. They were never purposely aggressive, but it was clear they didn’t care much for their job and so whenever they looked under his mattress, he always found his elbow knocking against the side wall, and a few times his head too. One minute and thirteen seconds passed before they both left. Immediately afterwards, the female white coat came in.


Zidane called her ‘the bitch’. It was one of those curse words he remembered in the days before this room, and his mother had always apologised to him whenever she’d used it in his presence. Since it was the worst word he knew, it seemed appropriate for her.


“Are you well?”


It was the exact same sentence she had asked a thousand times and more before. This was incredibly frustrating to Zidane because she never said anything else, no exceptions. It was ‘Are you well?’ or nothing at all. It didn’t matter what his answer was, or whether he responded at all, she never made a peep. He’d asked questions of his own, about why he was here, why she was here, who she was, where they were. He tried to get her on his side, appeal to her personal nature, tried to anger her, to upset her.  He faked illness, faked unconsciousness, faked death. Gotten angry at her, lashed out, tried to bite her, touch her, hurt her.


No matter what he did, the result was the same; complete apathy towards him. ‘Why does she ask if she doesn’t even care?’ He thought, and had been pondering ever since. To add to his hatred, every morning and afternoon, she injected him with a mysterious liquid via a small, sharp syringe. Most of the time, it appeared to do nothing, and he would lie awake in his bed, overthinking or using his imagination to pass the time. Sometimes it would make him very tired, very quickly, even if he’d just woken up. He didn’t like to think about what happened during these infrequent blackouts, but he never felt any physical changes had occurred after he’d woken up. A small relief, he knew.


The bitch had asked him again today, same as always. Zidane didn’t respond. Instead he stared at her muddy green eyes. She never returned his gaze, probably to feel less guilty about what she was going to do. Maybe, just maybe, if she had taken one look at him that morning, a display of her humanity and recognition, a notification that what she was doing was more than just a task, things would have turned out different for her. He quickly shrugged that off. He knew he would’ve done it all the same.


She rolled up the sleeve of Zidane’s thin paper gown, prepared the syringe, releasing a trapped pocket of air from the tip by smacking it against the bed frame and lowered her hand as she prepared to inject him in his upper arm.


Before the metal touched him however, a slab of wood, torn from a section of the walls midriff that decorated the otherwise plain room, flew from its fixed position and straight into the bitch’s head. For the briefest moment, she looked right into Zidane’s eyes, finally acknowledging him with a look of complete terror, before crumpling into a heap of arms and legs below his field of vision. The distinguishable clatter of a syringe echoed around the room as it skittered across the floor. Zidane finally realised what was different about this room today; it was full of possibility.


Just enough time had passed for him to unstrap himself from the bed, get up and reach the doorway when the two male white coats burst into the room. Upon this extraordinary sight, their brains were trying to figure out just what the hell had happened and how to react so they could prevent further damage. They couldn’t. Zidane had already snatched up the sharp vial of mysterious liquid and plunged it right into the first guys neck, pushing it down as he’d seen the woman do every day of his life. The result was one of his captors going into a brief but manic rage, ending with his collapse onto the floor as he failed to overcome the ‘poison’ contained inside. While that was going on, Zidane had swept up the piece of wood again and launched it side on towards the second guys face, but this one had the sense at least to raise his arms and deflect most of the blow into his hands. The bar shattered into several pieces, and the man quickly came to his senses. Ignoring the pain he was feeling, he started running for Zidane. That’s when the boy realised he didn’t need the weapon at all, and with only a thought, lifted the man up and slammed him against the wall with a loud crash. This dented both wall and man, and after letting him go, the last remaining white coat slumped down against the wall and fell straight into the land of nod.


Zidane surveyed the scene. From the looks of it, all three had taken quite a beating, but would likely recover maybe with a couple of headaches along the way, which relieved him a little. After all, no matter how much he hated them for their part in his imprisonment, he didn’t want to become a murderer. However, there were more pressing matters, mainly how he was able to achieve all of this today when he’d barely been able to sit himself up for the past few years. Something about this seemed amiss, but then it occurred to him that there was a much more important issue that needed resolving; his escape.


* * * * * * *


Everything since then had gone smoothly enough, right up until he had made his final break for the exit. The mysterious people who had been observing him from behind the curtain must have cottoned on, and finally sent back up to prevent him getting away. Feeling incredibly weak and not ready to take on a group of six guards, Zidane dived into this room and with his remaining strength barricaded the doorway.


The room finally felt at peace, but it was only going to be a temporary measure. Zidane realised that there was never going to be a second attempt at getting out of here, and to him there were only two options. One of them involved climbing or even jumping out of the window behind him, which hadn’t been locked, but it was two floors up and he didn’t know if his abilities included not getting crushed by gravity. Besides, he wasn’t in a fit state to experiment. The other option was to fight his way out, but he faced the same dilemma there.


Zidane was about to pull himself up when he was halted by two things; a crippling stab of pain somewhere in the frontal region of his brain, and a noise that sounded like metal crunching directly behind him. He froze in his half stood stance, trying not to make a sound even though for a moment his head felt like exploding.


The window cracked open from the outside and Zidane began to panic. He didn’t know if he had the strength to fight another battle with his arms and legs still shaking and his mind in so much pain, so he slumped down and tried to hide from the intruder.


A cool breeze suddenly swept into the room, shortly followed by a shiny metal box which crashed onto the floor in a manner which appeared to disregard its contents fragility. The next thing through was a pair of long, strong arms quickly succeeded by the head of a dark haired individual. It wasn’t long before the stranger found himself lifted up into the air as if he were weightless and pinned against one of the walls.


“What the-“ Was all he could spit out before he saw the pale young boy standing defiantly before him.


“Who are you?” Zidane asked.


“Same question to you.”


“I asked you first.”


The stranger took a strained breath and stared piercingly at his adversary.


“My name is Dane. Now tell me yours.” The man didn’t seem too bothered at being held against his will. Either he was either used to circumstances like this, or he could sense that Zidane didn’t intend to murder him.


“Are you helping the white coats?” He responded, ignoring the demand.


“I’m not helping anybody, I’m here on business.”


“Do business people usually try to break into buildings through the windows?”


“Look kid. I don’t know who’s after you but I’m not one of them. I don’t even know you.”


“Wouldn’t somebody who was after me say stuff like that?”


Dane’s lips curled ever so slightly. Was he impressed?


“What’s in the box?” Zidane asked.


Dane let the question rest for a moment, considering his response. Zidane couldn’t wait.


“I could just open it if you don’t tell me.”


“No point. You wouldn’t know what it is.” He looked serious. “Go ahead.”


Now it was Zidane’s turn to think. While it could’ve easily been a trap, something about the intruder had him feeling pretty relaxed. The man’s casual response to what was such an unusual, dangerous situation somehow made the youngster at ease.


“I don’t want to know.” He lied, resisting the urge to look at, let alone open it.


“So how are we going to settle this? You can’t keep me up here all day. It’s taking a lot out of you and you’re visibly struggling. If you’re going to kill me, then do it. Otherwise, let me go and you and I can both go about our business and walk out of this hospital alive.”


“Wait,” Zidane’s voice suddenly sounded really weak and he appeared taken aback. “What… what did you say this place was?”


Dane looked a little confused.


“A hospital. You didn’t know that?”


“Hospital?” His voice cracked, struggling to even push the whole word out. He was now definitely a boy broken. “This can’t be a hospital…”


Without warning, Dane felt the hold upon him ease up and he slid rather clumsily down the wall to the floor where he ungracefully stumbled. Zidane’s eyes were now so wide they were almost circular and moist to boot. The boy knew somewhere in the back of his mind that the hostage situation had prematurely ended and that he may be in danger from this stranger, but now he could only focus on the horrible truth he had learned; that the place he had been kept prisoner, where his wellbeing had been restricted for most of his life, this prison was actually a building for helping people. On top of that, all medical facilities in Natalos were controlled by the Governors, meaning that whoever had been keeping him here, they were working for the highest possible tier of government. If that didn’t frighten him down to his very core, he didn’t know what else could.


Punctuating this thought was a low murmuring of voices outside the door. Dane heard this first, and determinedly walked over to the barricaded entrance. Noticing the lackadaisical attempt at an obstruction and the verbal clues, it didn’t take him long to guess what was going on.


“What’s your name kid?”


“Zidane.”


Dane brushed off the coincidence between their given names. “You’re going to need to get up to stand a chance at getting out of here. Can you do that?”


Zidane stayed put. He barely even heard the stranger speak at all. Dane reached down and picked him up by the shoulders, leaning him against the wall.


“Listen to me. I can help you, but first you need to help me.” Dane wrenched the boy’s face towards his, and forced him to look him right in the eyes. “I know what you are, and that’s ok with me. But I need you to do something for me before I risk my life getting you out. Do you follow me?”


Zidane nodded, but only mildly.


“Good. I need you to bring me today’s inpatient records for the A&E department.”


Zidane once again nodded, fear and distress written all over his face. Then, as quick as a flash, the presence in his eyes was gone and mentally he was somewhere. To Dane, the boy looked like he had suddenly entered a sort of coma. He waved his hand in front of the boy’s face and got no reaction.


Dane had read plenty of the mythology behind Psionics, all from stolen library books he had acquired from a fellow Nomag called Squatch, so named for his grizzly appearance. Psionics could move anything with their minds and get into people’s heads without the target ever knowing. There was pretty much nothing they couldn’t do and this scared people. They had first been sighted before the Dark War, but nobody knew exactly when, the same way nobody really had a clue where or when everybody else came from. They were extremely rare and mysteriously they all died very young. The experts concluded this was probably because the power, so strong and so vast, became too much for them to handle and eventually destroyed their brains. Some theorised that the Governors set out to kill them all while they didn’t pose too much of a threat, for if someone really got a grasp of such an ability, they would be unstoppable. However, in the past thousand years give or take, not one had been publicly acknowledged or recorded down. Even rumours were sparse, and it was believed they had simply vanished or never existed except in the words of fools.


Without a word of warning, a large smashing sound came from the doorway area behind them both, cutting through the silence like a lightning bolt through the night sky. Dane stared at the youngsters face. There was no reaction.


Another crashing sound, this time with voices added to the cacophony.


“Ok, it’s coming” A small sounding voice suddenly sprouted from Zidane’s mouth. “It’s just… there.”


Now outside the window, hanging in mid-air as if it had been glued to an invisible wall was a large blue folder with the words INPATIENT LOG printed clearly across the front. Dane couldn’t hide his surprise at how quickly he had done this. The kid sure had something special.


“Now we get out of here.” He strolled casually over to the briefcase that still lay upon the floor and scooped it up. He returned towards the window, grabbed the boy by the shoulder and spoke clearly. “You need to trust me.”


Disrupting the end of his sentence was the biggest and loudest smash yet, and Dane knew instantly that this was the one the assailants were waiting for. Shouts of ‘freeze’ and ‘don’t move’ came through the newly created hole around the corridor. Zidane freaked out and began to back further away while Dane stood still.


“Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”


Dane walked directly in view of the entrance and faced at least five well-armed men staring directly at him. They were all pointing their arms toward him, ready to unleash everything they had. In a confused chorus of similar commands, they all shouted at him to get down in some manner and put his arms behind his head.


“Make me.” Came the words so coolly out of his mouth, especially from a Nomag.


Without waiting, one of the guards sent a trail of fiery energy his way, and Dane quickly raised the briefcase up in front of him.  The heat deflected off the metal case and bombastically returned to its sender in the centre of the group. A number of them seemed utterly shocked and didn’t quite make it out of the way, but the rest scattered quickly. The barricade also caught fire.


“That’s for the kid!” Shouted Dane above the commotion. He turned around and went to Zidane. “Come with me.”


Zidane still looked upset and was struggling to take everything in, from the revelation, to this stranger, to the white coats returning.


In one swift movement, Dane wrapped his arm around the youngster and made a defiant leap towards the window. Before the ‘intruders’ even had time to get through the door again, the two of them had fled the room and the escapees were making their way as far from it as they physically could manage.


With a young but wiry kid in one hand and a briefcase that wasn’t much lighter in the other, it wasn’t too long before Dane had to slow down, despite his athletic prowess. He took some shelter in an alleyway close by and set Zidane down.


“Are you OK?”


“I think so. My head hurts and I feel weak, but I think I just need to rest for a bit.”


“Good.”


Dane slid out the folder that he had tucked away in his jacket and flicked it open. Determinedly he scoured through the latter pages, trying to work out if there was anything in here that would help him.


“Damn it.” He muttered to himself, but apparently not quietly enough that the kid couldn’t hear.


“What’s wrong?”


He’d never been one to share much, and this was just an eleven year old child, there was no way he was going to burden him with the knowledge that-


“Who’s Sara Freid?”


Dane looked up from the folder. Before he even had the chance to speak, Zidane responded.


“I don’t know. I just knew I guess.”


Dane stayed quiet.


“Was she a friend of yours?”


“She is… was my daughter.” He responded, in a muted tone. There was no reason to lie to the kid.


“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be nosy or anything.”


“It’s all right.”


“Wait a minute, I’ve just thought of something. Hang on a minute.” Again, without warning, Zidane slipped into a sort of mini coma. Approximately thirty seconds later, he resumed full consciousness, this time with a proud little smile on his face. “Does this help?”


Slipping through the air, creating a quiet swooshing sound as it went, was a very small piece of plastic. It stopped right in front of Dane’s empty hand, and he immediately reached forward and took it. How Zidane had located it, Dane would never know, but he was now holding an ID card with Sara’s face, name and registered address printed on it. He had been handed somewhere to start looking for her.


“Yes, it helps. You did good.” Dane grabbed the boy by the shoulder and gripped it gently. In return the kid smiled a little more, grateful and a little pleased with himself. “You need to get yourself some clothes, and hide out for a while. They’ll be looking for you.”


“Oh, um, yeah. I’m going to do that right away.”


“I can’t take you with me, I’m sorry.”


“I know, it’s OK. I’ve got somewhere to go.”


“With your abilities, you’ll be fine. Take care kid.” After nodding one final time, Dane turned on his heels, and with case in hand fled from the location.


Zidane felt a rush of cold run all over him as he let go of all the bravado he had been putting on in front of the stranger, and all the weakness and shakiness he had held off came flooding back in one huge crushing wave almost knocking him out. The boy had no place to go. He had no plans. Nothing. He passed out moments later, lying in the empty alleyway as a chilly breeze blew over his motionless body.


Next Chapter: CHAPTER TWELVE