Fallen Angels (Dystopian Child Prodigy SciFi) (The Unmaker Series Book 2)

by Casey Herzog

  Zara scowled slightly.

  “We require you to speak to us clearly about what happened. What does ‘everything going to hell from there’ mean?” The dark-skinned woman shifted on her seat. “How did you go from him asking your name to you blowing him to pieces?”

  “He approached me and asked the question, barely allowing me an instant to react after my affirmative answer. I don’t even think he was trying to find out if it was really me; he knew, and he simply wished to look at my face before I died. The sudden attack was violent, his blade piercing into my forearm and cutting deep. I watched as he stood in front of me with a look of triumph and pulled the blade back to finish me off. I knew I had to do something if I didn’t want to die down there. However, it wasn’t until I remembered who he actually was that the fight changed direction — I hadn’t realized it until then. He was one of my attackers at the mess hall, the same who ended Roberto’s life with a poisoned blade. Now, he promised to reunite me with my ‘fat friend,’ as he himself said.”

  Dante cleared his throat.

  “Where there had been fear before, now it was replaced with fury, justice and — why not? — revenge. One of the people who had ruined my stay at the University was standing before me, and he was exposed. The shame and guilt of Roberto’s death was (and is) too fresh to forget. My attacker chose the wrong moment.” Dante looked down at the table for a moment before continuing, “He struck what he believed was a killing blow, but my release of power was too quick and too much for the young murderer. I barely measured the outburst, thinking I was applying enough force to merely end the fight. Instead of a simple explosion to throw him back, I blew the killer to pieces. I know this will bring consequences, but how could I have done this any differently? Should I have allowed him to kill me on that platform? Or was I supposed to run and find a member of staff with a dagger stuck inside me?”

  “Obviously not,” Fox said out loud, and Zara’s eyes narrowed at him.

  “You used your gifts to end the life of a student, in a quite dangerous manner, in fact,” the female interrogator said. “Self defense is a valid reason, but it’s not a get-out-of-jail-free card. You still need a decent play here, Dante. Why would you even use your powers like that on someone? You know they could destroy entire structures if you so wished it, so…Why? Surely not just something as bland and unimaginative as ‘justice’ or ‘revenge?’”

  “Self-preservation. Why should I resign myself to die if I can find a way to stop the killer and keep him from harming anyone again? He already caused the death of a student. What’s one less killer on campus?”

  “Well, that’s an argument you’d expect from a killer, so you’re not much better yourself,” the dark-skinned staff member said cruelly. “You abused your powers, no matter the reason. Just because you have a gun and you’re being attacked, it doesn’t mean using it should always be your first reaction. It is clear you need training on your abilities much sooner than the other students will require. Until now, we haven’t had any problems with First Term students and their gifts, but this particular event could spark trouble. I believe the sergeant will want you to be kept safe and separate from other students for a while.”

  Dante grimaced. The punishments had already begun, as if he was at fault for trying to be murdered.

  “So you’re going to blame the victim?” He remembered Albridge’s words and the report they’d filmed. “I was guaranteed protection by the Spiritual Chancellor himself. What happened to that?”

  Zara and Fox looked at each other. It was an awkward glance, as if the report had been discussed before. They had surely seen the video as well.

  “I’m not aware what terms or agreements were reached between you and Chancellor Albridge, Dante,” Zara said.

  “What are you people? Who do you represent? Shouldn’t you be keeping people safe?”

  “We’re part of the security force within the Universitas Terras, yes,” Fox answered, “And you’re quite right.” He glanced at Zara again, and the woman shifted uncomfortably. “I believe our security has been lax of late. Two attacks on one student in a week? You’re fortunate to be alive. Your abilities are potent, that’s for sure.”

  Dante smiled.

  “They are, and they’re what have kept me breathing.”

  Zara looked at each of them in turn, her lip curled.

  “Yes, well, thanks for working with us in this investigation. You’re free to go, Dante.” Dante stood, but she had something to add before they were done. “One more thing, Healer. Control yourself. Of course you had a right to protect your life and ensure that Roberto’s killer didn’t get away, but think of the damage and loss of life you could have caused if your attack had hit the train, or if it had caused the building to collapse? Be smart is all I’m asking. You will either be a great man or a dangerous one in the future, but it’s up to you which you end up becoming.”

  Dante nodded at them both, catching a friendly wink and a nod from Fox.

  “Good luck, kid.”

  They watched him step out of the door and close it behind him. Only then did Dante let out a long sigh of relief. He’d done well, in spite of the circumstances. After all, he’d heavily evaded the subject of guilt.

  In truth, I don’t feel any.

  I’d do it again, he thought, a pleasant feeling washing over him, but I’d take his limbs one by one this time and make it hurt. I feel nothing for what I did to Roberto’s killer…and once I find who’s behind this, I’m going to do something far, far worse.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Lost and Found

  They came for him before dawn, an abnormally large squad of guards with full riot gear and gloved hands hovering over their sidearms. The cell door shifted aside and an order was barked from one of the helmets.

  “You have been selected; come out slowly with your hands up.”

  The prisoner smiled, the flesh half of his face tensing while the metal half remained cold and dead. His metal fingers clenched and unclenched, and a few guards lifted their shields a few inches at the gesture. Russell had no intention of hurting them, but the fear it caused brought great pleasure to him.

  “How exciting,” he said softly, standing and taking a step forward and out of his cell. Weapons were raised at him, and he pretended to be shocked. His hands came up a moment later and he chuckled, following the head guard towards the elevator. “Why does this always have to be so awkward?” Russell asked with a grimace. There was something nagging at him despite it all. The visit wasn’t one he’d been expecting, and several alarms were already ringing in his head. This is all too random for my taste, he thought.

  “Because you’re stupid and reckless,” one of the guards said softly. “And so were we, for not realizing it earlier.”

  The enhanced killer tutted ironically at the last comment and took it as a compliment. He’d gone through them like a knife through butter on the day they had placed him inside the cell. It had taken them dozens of men and plenty of injuries before they’d overpowered the Lord of Lawlessness and shocked him into submission.

  A vehicle waited in a closed section outside of the blocks, and Russell tensed slightly when he saw it. He’d already been making moves in the past days with fellow prisoners and had been keeping a tight circle of trust around himself to ensure nothing got out, but there was always the possibility the guards had caught scent of his planning.

  “You’re looking worried, Lord,” a guard mocked.

  “Where are we going?” the prisoner barked, stopping at the gate that led to the vehicle. “I want an explanation.” He glanced around and tried to remain calm, but the ticking and the pain in the metal side of his skull was already beginning and he couldn’t stop it. There were too many surrounding him, but the pain, it’s coming and I can’t stop it…

  “You’re gonna work,” the officer hissed, approaching closer than he should, “like everyone else does. You won’t get off scot-free for some reputation a retired soldier and a kid broug
ht crashing down.” The man’s body language changed as he saw Russell’s momentary shock. “Ah yeah, the truth is spreading, son. Now I wonder who’ll fear you once everyone hears you got turned over and fucked by a bunch of peasants and a kid, Lord Russe—”

  Russell’s hand shot forward and caught the man around the throat, but the Coalition guns were up in an instant, their cold steel resting against his temples. He dropped the man with a sigh, closing his eyes and getting ready for what was coming. The countdown began in his head as he prepared for the inevitable.

  To be fair, at least this time they managed to knock him out in a single shock.

  He awoke inside the vehicle and lifted his flesh hand to his bruised head, quickly realizing it was a futile task, the thick chain keeping him attached to the floor of the armored car.

  There were guards on benches to each side of him, and he awkwardly squirmed his way into a sitting position. If this is how I die, driven out of the prison and shot in the head, I fucking swear I’m coming back to haunt everyone who’s ever wronged me. The vehicle swerved hard to one side, and he was thrown back onto the metal floor of the car, causing laughter from several guards.

  “Funny huh?” he growled maliciously, “So funny you had to escort me by the dozen and chain me to the floor. Cut this off me and laugh again, come on!”

  Nobody replied, and the car soon came to a screeching stop. Russell tensed as the guards pushed open the doors and came over to him to release his chain. He swallowed hard and twitched awkwardly a few times, fighting to stay in control of himself. If he was going to battle his way out of an execution, he needed to be level-headed and…Ah. Russell did his best to conceal his relief, but the guards noticed it.

  “You looked terrified for a moment, Russ,” the officer mocked. “Just look at you, afraid of a couple of guards taking you on a ride…”

  They were certainly far from the prison, that was for sure, although there were still tall electrified fences surrounding the field that they stood on. Russell’s gaze descended, and he looked into the massive rocky spiral-path descending far beneath ground level. The guards turned to him, and the officer put a friendly arm around him, causing him to tense uncomfortably.

  “See,” the guard said, “we like doing things the old-fashioned way here. There was a mine nearby when we built this prison, so we thought: hey, why not? They can do something useful! And clearly it’s worked. The prisoners love it. Look at old Smithy there,” he nodded with a cruel grin. An old man climbed the path with a wheelbarrow, his hands bloody and his brow drenched in sweat. Russell watched with anger as the older man pushed the barrow up and around the corner of the path and kept going, the effort clearly causing him great pain.

  “This is pathetic,” he hissed.

  “Since when have you cared about innocent people? He’d probably be dead if he’d stepped into your city when you were still the lord of it, killing and maiming your fellow human beings for stupid reasons. Don’t lecture me, you scum,” the Coalition officer spat, “I’m not taking moral lessons from a thief and a murderer.”

  He was escorted down to the bottom of the spiral at gunpoint, a bland brown uniform with yellow neon stripes handed to him as he walked. The group passed the old man with the wheelbarrow as they descended, and Russ caught his gaze. There was a look of sadness in the old man’s eyes that made even the killer feel pity toward him and anger towards the Coalition and their methods. Their treatment of the prisoners will be their downfall, he promised silently.

  “Luck,” the old man wheezed in a whispering voice, and Russell narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

  The spiral began to grow steeper, and Russell saw what lay at the very bottom of it — a huge cave that descended even further into the ground and gave Russell a moment of pause.

  “Impressive? You’re going to work here for the next few days. Enjoy yourself.” The officer stopped, and his men did the same, gesturing for Russ to continue down. He didn’t like the looks of things, but headed straight down to the bottom of the slope where a quarry surrounded the cavern itself. A new set of Coalition guards were standing around the entrance, their long rifles in hand, and their vigilant eyes watching the enhanced figure descending towards them.

  “Fresh meat?” A voice echoed from within the cavern, and the sound of approaching footsteps reached Russell’s ears before he saw the silhouette of a shadow detaching itself from the darkness beyond. “Oh, and what a piece of sirloin Sergeant Conde has brought in!” The Coalition officer that stepped out of the cave wore body armor, but was helmetless and had a scarf wrapped around his mouth and neck. “Well, well, well,” the man said with joy, “don’t we have quite the celebrity?” A signal was made, and two objects landed loudly in front of Russell’s feet: a helmet and a wheelbarrow.

  “This, for me?” Russell asked sarcastically, and his new captor nodded.

  “All for you, Russell. Now you get to work, or we’ll have trouble.” The man tapped something at his belt before turning and walking away, and Russell paled.

  “Wait, no!” he shouted, chasing the scarfed trooper into the cave, but seeing nothing but miles of rocky darkness.

  He had seen it. For the first time since he’d arrived and all of his belongings had been confiscated, he’d finally seen it again and remembered it existed at all.

  The man in charge of the caves had his sword: the alien relic that had gotten him this far and had guaranteed he’d left his burning city alive. The blade was something else, not of this world. Even he trembled at the thought of its dark powers, its distant echo of a voice…

  In truth, there was a bright side to having been brought out to the mine, Russell knew. He now knew where his blade was, a likely key to furthering his plans to controlling the prison — and getting out once he had gotten what he wanted.

  Someone is definitely watching over me; what an unfortunate mistake the Coalition has made by bringing me to this place.

  Russell allowed himself a small smile as he began to change into his uniform and pushed the wheelbarrow forward into the blackness.

  A lot of people are going to die very soon.

  Sergeant Conde got off the vehicle and nodded to his men. Each of them returned to their posts, but he crossed back into the yard, bumping into a prisoner along the way before heading towards the far fence and being admitted into the guard’s quarter.

  Fillmore looked down at his closed palm a few moments later and opened it slightly, reading the note inside it.

  ‘LR gone to mines. P2 green light.’

  The captain of the patrol force glanced at Callum and nodded once, tearing the paper to shreds before walking past a fence and throwing the remains through.

  Fillmore sighed inwardly in relief — after Russell’s visit, he’d needed to find a way to get the man out of his hair for as long as he needed to execute the break-out. Now, he had one less obstacle to worry about.

  “Phase two is ready,” he said quietly to the nearby Callum, and the soldier nodded. “We’re good to go. He’s gone for good.”

  Callum scoffed and walked away. “We’ll see about that, captain,” he said, replacing Fillmore’s certainty with a sense of doubt. “We’ll surely see about that…”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The Chosen

  They waited for him outside his quarters, disguising their obvious curiosity and intent as simple hanging around. Dante had known what was coming after his latest controversy, but it annoyed him all the same.

  “Yeah, it’s me again! All over the news!” he yelled aggressively as he stepped into the entrance hall and became the sole focus of a hundred gazes, causing several students to flinch or look away in shame. He’d had enough of the questions, the fake praise and heavy looks wherever he went. The Healer just wanted to spend a week at the University without any trouble or awkward moments. Is it so difficult? He wondered.

  Some of the braver pupils even followed him through the corridor to his quarters and even up to his door, but the Healer had no
time for them.

  “We just wanna ask you some questions, Dante!” one of the boys Dante always saw with Keith shouted.

  “Go away.” He slammed the door in the boy’s face and heard the lad’s angry curse and a frustrated palm hitting the wooden surface a second later. Dante had no patience, although he would need to explain himself later on, of course. I doubt many people often kill their fellow students around here. There will be consequences, whether I’m ready for them or not.