He turned back to me. His next blow felt like he’d struck my head off my shoulders, sending it bouncing over the ground. As I slipped into oblivion, I heard his cold non-committal voice,
“Once you’re finished with him, we’ll make him into a ‘red flower’ and nail him right in front of the fort’s gates. Let them see their Angel.”
I resurfaced after a while. No idea how much time I’d spent slipping in and out of consciousness, my slumber punctuated with flashes of bloody crimson.
I felt awful. My swollen tongue could barely move in my mouth, feeling for the remaining stumps of teeth. I was queasy, my head was splitting, my knee throbbing with excruciating pain. The moment I tried to breathe, my ribs felt pierced by red-hot needles. It must have taken me several minutes to finally come round, struggling to float out of the haze between swoon and awareness.
The first thing I saw when I could finally focus was a ribbed ceiling and the blinding white lamps trained on me. The place was quiet; the only thing I could hear was the soft rumbling of an engine somewhere below.
I lay sprawled, clipped to what resembled an operating table. A robotic arm overhung me, fitted with a clutch of medical tools whose purpose was a mystery to me: probably an auto surgeon or some such.
My very first attempt to move turned into agony as pain shot through my body, blinding me like a flash of light, echoing in my leg, my spine, my head.
I let out a muffled groan, unable to suppress it. Things started to come back, floating out of the haze: my flight, my drop, my fight with Gnarl... and this unexpected delay of my death sentence.
I struggled to cast a look around. I was in a large square room with steel walls. It bounced occasionally as if moving along a bad road. It looked like I was inside one of the trailers I’d glimpsed when I’d banked the last turn over the Rogues’ camp: enormous monstrosities, long and painted silvery white, that had been lined up in their second line of defense, looking dramatically different from their usual jumble of jury-rigged vehicles. What a shame I hadn’t smashed them to smithereens while I still could...
This particular trailer must have been turned into some semblance of a high tech lab. It was lined with control consoles and virtual screens, and set up with tables and shelves holding all kinds of mysterious equipment. Everything was in pristine order, the shiny surgical tools arranged methodically on the shelves. One wall was lined with the white sarcophagi of medipods; another one with tall glass pillars which looked like giant translucent test tubes filled with thick yellowish green smoke which swirled, hinting at movement inside.
Angel’s wingsuit caught my eye. It lay in a heap in the corner, its wings seemingly broken, its silvery armor plates charred and deformed. On a shelf next to it I saw my stuff in a transparent container: my Fox suit ripped to bits, my dagger and my cryptor.
Several cages lined the far wall: some of them empty, others had garms sleeping inside. My Binocular Vision helpfully added more detail: almost all of the monstrous feral dogs wore bandages in the exact places where the steel of their newly grafted cyber reinforcements fused with flesh.
The biggest cage stood on a small pedestal slightly aside from the rest and was covered with thick tent fabric. Bundles of cables snaked along the floor, disappearing under it.
Wait a sec. My Binocular Vision seemed to work, which meant that the abilities I’d received from Ptar’s Genome were perfectly active. What was wrong with my interface, then?
The moment I thought about it, the familiar little augmented-reality icons reappeared in my mental view. Active again, finally...
The Transformation tab was blinking with numerous red dots, pinpointing my many injuries. Fractured kneecap; moderately severe concussion; fractured wrist; numerous facial bone fractures; cracked third rib; not to mention all the numerous bruises, grazes and damage to soft tissues. Not the best diagnostic in my short life. Doubtful I could even get to my feet without help.
The pain kept abating only to come back with a vengeance, unwilling to release my broken body.
Status... Transformation... Abilities... Miko, where was she now?
I opened her tab and saw the gray outline of a generic headshot crossed out in intense red.
Your cogitor has been force-disabled
Wake up, Miko, I mouthed the password with unyielding lips as I typed it into the activation box. Come on now, what’s wrong with you...
After a brief lag, my neural network appeared, holding one hand to her throat and coughing like a trooper. Her cute virtual face was screwed into the expression of dramatic suffering.
“Miko?”
“A- a- ahem! Hi there, Incarnator...”
“Where the hell have you disappeared to?”
“Gray, we were attacked by the Lash of Void! A Gold-class Azuric ability! A blow like that can easily kill even an Incarnator. Your wingsuit saved your life, absorbing most of the damage. But we still got our fair share. Your Source went into a temporary shutdown. You blanked out. The enemies were getting close. Thanks to the data I’d downloaded from Stellar’s Archives, I was able to ID them as Possessed. A quick extrapolation suggested that if they recognized an Incarnator in you, we’d be toast. So I made a decision to temporarily disable the interface and go into sleep mode. That was the only slim chance of survival we had. As far as I can see, my prognosis proved correct.”
“But... how come they didn’t see it?”
“Didn’t see what? That you’re an Incarnator? Well, the Possessed Ones are denied access to Stellar, aren’t they? Their interfaces are disabled. Your body is now virtually indistinguishable from that of a regular human. They could only identify you through indirect evidence such as your ability to reincarnate, your genomods, your superpowers. A brain scan could have betrayed an active cogitor’s presence. It’s either that, or a full DNA test including a complete DNA breakdown.”
“But I managed to activate Angel’s suit, didn’t I? I thought that only Incarnators...”
“Not necessarily. In theory, any A-man with a fully formed Source can control bionic appliances. The degree of synchronization would be a different story, of course. But that’s not what we should be talking about now! We don’t have the time! Where are we? Try to remember as much as you can. I need information in order to assess our situation.”
Of course. She didn’t know anything about whatever had happened after she’d deactivated herself.
I focused, trying to remember everything I could about everything that had happened after that. Gnarl... our duel... the crucified people... the last words of that woman in blue...
“That’s enough, Incarnator. We were lucky. The probability of our survival was vanishingly small. Still, we didn’t have any other options. This was the only route we could take. The only reason they didn’t kill you outright was because they believed you to be a City tribute.”
That’s right. That’s exactly why I was still alive. Plus the information they hoped to glean from me, of course. The Possessed would have loved to know how the heir of Fenrir had ended up in Fort Angelo and whether it might have something to do with the City scheming against them. They wanted to know how I’d managed to activate Angel’s ancient wingsuit, as well as lots of other things. And once they’d “squeezed me dry”, as Gnarl had put it, I was facing a long excruciating death.
A weak source of Azure radiation detected.
Current absorption rate: 1 Azure per minute
Total Azure count: 7840/14300
“Danger! Watch out, Incarnator! I’ll—”
Her icon promptly closed and disappeared as she disabled herself and escaped back to sleep mode, leaving me on my own.
With a soft creaking sound, the door opened, letting in the woman in the blue hooded cape. What was her name now? — that’s right, Evelynn. She’d managed to talk Gnarl into keeping me alive for the time being.
An enormous cyberwarg trotted in her wake, a seasoned beast with a long mane of matted hair. Like a loyal bodyguard, he followed in her foo
tsteps, his trustful stare never leaving his mistress. Obeying her sign, he slumped on the floor by the entrance, lazily baring his teeth at his caged brethren who began to whine at the sight of him. His fangs were as long as my finger, the smallest of his teeth the size of a grown man’s phalanx.
The woman removed her cape and hung it by the door, staying in a hugging protection suit. As she began to readjust it, she half-turned to me.
The sight made me shudder.
She wasn’t human anymore.
Her long triangular face gave her a likeness to a she-wolf. The yellow eyes of a wild beast. The tough matted strands of black hair and the pointy tips of her ears peeking from it, studded with ring-shaped gold piercings.
Her skin was dark gray veined with the familiar pale-blue web of Azuric patterns. Identical to what I’d seen on the fragment of the Black Moon. Identical to those that had covered Flector’s shell.
Her jumpsuit had slits made on its shoulders, elbows and knees, with some weird black growths showing beneath. Not growths, no. If my eyes didn’t deceive me, she’d actually had herself implanted with several fragments of the Black Moon, grafting them to her own flesh. It was they that emitted the glowing pattern on her skin. She was a walking Azure generator, a mini A-zone. How much A-energy must she have consumed? How many Evolutions had she undergone? What kinds of abilities had she acquired?
At the same time, I had to admit that she moved with effortless grace. Despite all the horrid modifications, her body still preserved its feminine shape, attracting my stare.
Unexpectedly for me, my interface outlined the woman in red and offered a desctiption:
Evelynn “Evyl” Mail.
Provenance of the data: Stellar’s Archives, 91.7% match.
A-woman
Incarnator
Possessed
Evidence of infection detected. Progress: unknown.
Evidence of unidentified genetic, myoelectric and Azuric modifications detected.
Source type: unknown
Warning level: Red (lethal)
It suddenly dawned on me that the only reason my interface had managed to identify the enemy was thanks to the available Stellar’s archives that the curious Miko had so conveniently downloaded back at the Monolith.
The caged garms climbed to their feet, whining miserably and poking their bandaged heads between the bars. Evyl crouched next to the cages, speaking to them in a soft, gentle voice. I couldn’t believe my eyes seeing the influence the Possessed woman had on those vicious mutated beasts: they yelped happily, clinging to their beloved mistress.
Having fed them, Evyl walked over to the large cage that stood apart from the rest and cautiously lifted the corner of the fabric.
A girl hunkered inside. She was completely naked, her long blonde hair her only protection. She was hugging her knees with her strong bronze arms. Her large, glowing green eyes were the biggest thing I’d ever seen on a human face.
The girl curled her upper lip like a wild beast and growled softly, baring two rows of perfect white teeth.
Evyl brought her face close to the bars, gave the girl a long look and emitted a low throaty laugh.
“So, sweetheart?” she asked, producing a thin steel rod. “Won’t you share your treasure with us?”
The telescopic rod extended, releasing a sharp probe which resembled a thick needle with a slanted tip. Evyl carefully slid it between bars.
“Quiet, baby, be quiet,” Evyl cooed as she brought the probe’s sharp tip closer to the girl. “Hush, hush! Be good, sweetheart... I’m a little kitty, and you’re a little vixen...”
The girl’s soft growl rose to a warning hiss, then exploded in the fierce howl of a wounded beast. The rod flew aside, knocked out of Evyl’s hands. There was no girl in the cage anymore — instead, a wild animal raged inside. It resembled a giant cat — a lynx maybe, but it could indeed have been a fox.
But that’s where the semblance ended. These kinds of feline foxes simply didn’t exist — not with these markings and definitely not with these kinds of fangs and claws. This was a Bina-class morph, a Terran animal which had been altered by Azure. My interface ID’d it as an “Allys, a quasi-feline A-morph. Warning level: Yellow”.
Oh yes, now I recognized the cat girl. This was the werebeast that the Rattuses had sold to the Rogues. Did that mean that the Possessed wanted her for their experiments? What exactly did they want to do with her? What exactly did Evyl hope to get from her?
Having turned into a cat, the girl had become so huge she didn’t fit in the cage anymore. And the bars must have been live because every time she brushed against them, they erupted in cascades of blue sparks. The werebeast howled and contorted inside, trying to evade them, but to no avail: some part of her body always ended up touching the bars.
Evyl snorted. She stepped away from the monster and stood next to the cage, arms akimbo. The two seemed to have a fleeting resemblance in their beastlike yet feminine grace.
“You shouldn’t have done it, sweetheart,” Evyl said in a pedantic tone. “What are you trying to achieve? Why are you so stubborn? Think for yourself, little vixen: another couple of transformations, and what will you become next? You don’t even know. You have very little time left. I only want to help. I could help you — and you could help us too.”
Vicious hissing was her answer. The girl had already regained her human shape; she huddled up at the center of the cage without a sound, writhing with pain. Her tawny body was welted and covered in nasty crimson spots as if she’d just been flogged.
Evyl picked up the probe. Shaking a disapproving head, she tried to repeat what she’d started. I had no idea what she was up to — but the werebeast’s fragility turned out to be a ruse.
Her movements were so swift they didn’t register. The creature somehow managed to grab the end of Evyl’s rod. After a brief struggle, the probe fell apart, leaving a few sharp fragments in the werebeast’s hands. She made full use of them; all I could make of her blurred movements was that she must have flung them at the woman.
The sheer power and speed of the creature’s attack were terrifying. I realized it when one of the fragments hit the trailer’s wall just above me, leaving an impressive dent in the ribbed metal. They failed to harm Evyl though, ricocheting from the hemispherical power shield which snapped open around her, saving her from the sudden attack. I used to have something like that in Angel’s wingsuit.
She was a Technomancer, wasn’t she? Apparently, her ability to control technical appliances far exceeded that of regular humans. You just couldn’t catch her unawares or kill her with such primitive means.
Still, Evyl was furious.
“Bad little vixen! Bad fox!” she growled in a low voice, flipping a switch on a device attached to the cage.
More blue sparks flew from the bars, turning into little forking bolts of lightning which started hitting the Allys creature. She howled and wailed with pain, once again transforming into the enormous shapeshifting beast, rapidly changing guises. After a short while, she was shrieking rather than wailing, squirming in agony. The stench of burnt flesh spread over the lab.
The punishment lasted several minutes. Only when the girl had stopped moving, her body black and crimson with the burns, did Evyl seem pleased with the result.
The creature couldn’t scream anymore: she wheezed and croaked, gasping for air. At first I thought that she hadn’t survived the torture but her body kept shivering. The life potential in this beast was truly incredible: a regular human would have been dead a long time ago.
With an annoyed shudder of shoulders, Evyl stopped the execution. She reached for a new probe and inserted it into the huddled creature’s body, meeting no resistance this time. The werefox jerked in pain as Evyl performed strange manipulations.
Finally, a little green light started flashing at the probe’s other end.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” Evyl said with a happy squint. “Wasn’t so bad, was it? You think I enjoy hurting you? I don�
�t. You need to behave, baby, and everything will be just fine...” she turned round and walked over to me with a graceful hip-swaying swagger.
Her unkind stare and shark-like grin sent shivers down my spine.
“Our hero is awake, I can see,” she sniffed. “So, honey? Let’s get started, shall we?”
Chapter 2
“CAN YOU HEAR me?”
I didn't reply. I just concentrated on studying her.
A-woman. Class: Possessed. Glyph: Incarnator.
As a recruit, I didn't have access to all the other tabs containing her detailed stats and bio. There was one thing that stung me unpleasantly though: the very fact that “Incarnator” was just a glyph, meaning that Stellar didn’t view us as human beings. In its classification, we were grouped with A-morphs and Azuric entities from over the Edge.
The Enchanter (Project Stellar Book 2): LitRPG Series Page 2