by T. C. Edge
The Enhanced Series Box Set
The Complete Dystopian Series - Books 1-10
T. C. Edge
This book is a work of fiction. Any names, places, events, and incidents that occur are entirely a result of the author's imagination and any resemblance to real people, events, and places is entirely coincidental.
Copyright 2019 T. C. Edge
All right reserved.
First edition: September 2019
Cover Design by Laercio Messias
No part of this book may be scanned, reproduced, or distributed in any printed or electronic form.
Contents
I. THE ENHANCED
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
II. HYBRID
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
III. NAMELESS
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
IV. ASSASSIN
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Chapter 95
Chapter 96
Chapter 97
Chapter 98
Chapter 99
Chapter 100
Chapter 101
Chapter 102
Chapter 103
Chapter 104
Chapter 105
Chapter 106
Chapter 107
Chapter 108
Chapter 109
Chapter 110
V. CAPTIVE
Chapter 111
Chapter 112
Chapter 113
Chapter 114
Chapter 115
Chapter 116
Chapter 117
Chapter 118
Chapter 119
Chapter 120
Chapter 121
Chapter 122
Chapter 123
Chapter 124
Chapter 125
Chapter 126
Chapter 127
Chapter 128
Chapter 129
Chapter 130
Chapter 131
Chapter 132
Chapter 133
Chapter 134
Chapter 135
Chapter 136
Chapter 137
Chapter 138
VI. RENEGADE
Chapter 139
Chapter 140
Chapter 141
Chapter 142
Chapter 143
Chapter 144
Chapter 145
Chapter 146
Chapter 147
Chapter 148
Chapter 149
Chapter 150
Chapter 151
Chapter 152
Chapter 153
Chapter 154
Chapter 155
Chapter 156
Chapter 157
Chapter 158
Chapter 159
Chapter 160
Chapter 161
Chapter 162
Chapter 163
Chapter 164
Chapter 165
Chapter 166
Chapter 167
Chapter 168
Chapter 169
VII. INVADER
Chapter 170
Chapter 171
Chapter 172
Chapter 173
Chapter 174
Chapter 175
Chapter 176
Chapter 177
Chapter 178
Chapter 179
Chapter 180
Chapter 181
Chapter 182
Chapter 183
Chapter 184
Chapter 185
Chapter 186
Chapter 187
Chapter 188
Chapter 189
Chapter 190
Chapter 191
Chapter 192
Chapter 193
Chapter 194
Chapter 195
Chapter 196
Chapter 197
VIII. AVENGER
Chapter 198
Chapter 199
Chapter 200
Chapter 201
Chapter 202
Chapter 203
Chapter 204
Chapter 205
Chapter 206
Chapter 207
Chapter 208
Chapter 209
Chapter 210
Chapter 211
Chapter 212
Chapter 213
Chapter 214
Chapter 215
Chapter 216
Chapter 217
Chapter 218
Chapter 219
Chapter 220
Chapter 221
Chapter 222
Chapter 223
Chapter 224
Chapter 225
Chapter 226
Chapter 227
Chapter 228
IX. DEFENDER
Chapter 229
Chapter 230
Chapter 231
Chapter 232
Chapter 233
Chapter 234
Chapter 235
Chapter 236
Chapter 237
Chapter 238
Chapter 239
Chapter 240
Chapter 241
Chapter 242
Chapter 243
Chapter 244
Chapter 245
Chapter 246
Chapter 247
Chapter 248
Chapter 249
Chapter 250
Chapter 251
Chapter 252
Chapter 253
Chapter 254
Chapter 255
Chapter 256
Chapter 257
Chapter 258
Chapter 259
X. NEMESIS
Chapter 260
Chapter 261
Chapter 262
Chapter 263
Chapter 264
Chapter 265
Chapter 266
Chapter 267
Chapter 268
Chapter 269
Chapter 270
Chapter 271
Chapter 272
Chapter 273
Chapter 274
Chapter 275
Chapter 276
Chapter 277
Chapter 278
Chapter 279
Chapter 280
Chapter 281
Chapter 282
Chapter 283
Chapter 284
Chapter 285
Chapter 286
Chapter 287
Chapter 288
Chapter 289
Chapter 290
Chapter 291
Next Up - The Enhanced: Awakening
Also by T. C. Edge
Part I
THE ENHANCED
1
The sign above the door reads: ‘Carmichael’s Academy’.
It’s old and worn down, the metal rusted at the corners and hanging slightly loose on one side. Just from looking at it, you’d assume that the inside of the building was equally unkempt.
And you’d be right.
It’s a lie too. The word ‘academy’ in the title makes the building appear more than it is. A place, perhaps, for study and work, where the young are taught and educated and given a vocation.
Really, it’s little more than a refuge for orphans and castaways, one of the few remaining in the city. Were it not for Mrs Carmichael, most of the kids here would find themselves in the northern quarter, swallowed up by the alleys and joining the ranks of the Disposables.
It’s a sorry truth that many will end up there anyway. Mrs Carmichael’s charity can only stretch so far.
I step over the threshold from the bustling street of Brick Lane and enter inside. A smell I know so intimately sweeps up my nose, the pungent scent of unwashed clothes and tobacco smoke that refuses to give way despite my best efforts. I have made it my mission to dismiss the odour for a while now, but to no avail.
It’s our generous patron herself who contributes to the stench. Despite her many excellent qualities, Mrs Carmichael is a heavy smoker, a habit that appears to have been taken on by some of the older tenants living here.
“It’s a losing battle,” she always tells me when she finds me scrubbing the old carpets and worn out curtains, puffing happily on a cigarette as she does so.
I usually just smile and keep going. Frankly, it’s more as a way of keeping busy than anything else.
The academy, or orphanage – because that’s what it really is – is situated over three floors in the west of Outer Haven, cosily nestled within one of the busiest residential districts in the city.
The ground floor is taken up by the youngsters, the kids who are unable to legally work. They perform tasks around the place, washing dishes and cleaning clothes. Given how that side of the stench refuses to leave, I consider that they’re not doing a great job.
The first floor is occupied by those in transition. Kids of an age where they can find a vocation, and yet are unable to do so. They are given only so long before they find themselves on the other side of the door. It’s harsh, but a necessary feature of life here at Carmichael’s.
Such is the way throughout the sprawling urban jungle of Outer Haven.
The second and top floor, meanwhile, exist to house those old enough to work. Half the money they earn is used to help care for those on the floors below. The other half is held in trust by our patron until the time is right for them to fly the nest. Mostly, that happens when they’re granted a housing license by the council and have a suitable pot of money to cover their essentials.
Overall, it’s a symbiotic system where you work hard and give back. Since many of the kids here come when they’re very young, they’re only too happy to reciprocate when they reach the working age of 15.
Some, of course, have been here longer than others.
For me, it’s all my life.
Eighteen years under the caring watch of Mrs Carmichael, the only parent I’ve ever known. I can honestly say it would take me a lifetime to repay her. If I could give her all of my wages, I would.
Up through the building I step, passing the dusty main hall and moving up the winding staircase that leads to the second floor. The smell of stale smoke grows stronger as I rise and move down the corridor to the rear of the building. At the end, Mrs Carmichael’s own quarters await, with my room nearby on the left of the hallway.
My first port of call is to tap on her door.
My knuckles rap gently, and I hear a muffled call from within. I step inside and see my guardian sitting behind her desk in a fairly small and cluttered office. Off to the right, another door leads to her bedroom. On the left, she has a bathroom and little kitchenette. It’s a meagre allotment, but something she’s never cared for.
It’s no surprise to find a cigarette dangling from her lips as she peruses some old files. Nor, given the time of day, is the sight of a large glass of whiskey particularly unusual.
Behind an old pair of horn-rimmed glasses, her murky blue eyes rise to mine, a web of grey hair dangling untidily from her head. I’ve noticed that her general interest in her appearance has declined since the death of her husband, Derek, several years ago.
“Evening, Brie,” she croaks, her thin lips building into a smile as her spindly fingers take possession of the cigarette. “Update?”
“Yes, Mrs Carmichael,” I say. “The job’s all finished. The client was pleased. At least, I think he was.”
“I’m sure he was, honey. Did you get payment?”
“Sure did,” I say, stepping forward.
I reach into my jacket pocket and pull out an envelope. For the most part, we operate on a cash only basis around here, most of our jobs being kept off the books. Mrs Carmichael enjoys a certain degree of anonymity, and doesn’t care for interference. Clearly, it works. I’ve never known anyone from the Court to venture this far. They don’t tend to take much interest in the lower workings of Outer Haven.