September 4th, 2030, 6:43 pm

The silver steel ridges in the spoon chafe into the palm of my hand. The iron in my wrists squeeze against my skin and my fingers are glued to each other. A crack under my left hand draws pain, but it is drowned by the thoughts swimming through my head.

I collapse onto the rugged stone steps in front of the MacTavish household. The metal railing on my right calls to me, and I rest my head against its twirling figure. My icy tears are cool before the dark, unforgiving world.

I gaze out past the parallel townhouses across the way, toward the wondrous blossom of light from the cloud piercing structures in the distance. But I am searching for something much farther; beyond the coveting glow. Though they are hidden behind civilization's beauty, I know they are there.

I know he is there.

Rivers flow down my cheekbones as I plead into the infinite chasm. "I'm so confused, Dad. My life is so fucked up. Six months ago, I was playing baseball and studying for physics. The next thing I know, I'm running away from the Imperial Guard because some asshole at school roped me into his world of shit!" Saliva pools on my lips and I spit it onto the sidewalk with my last word, as if it were a bad poison.

"If you were there, you would have never let me hang out with him in the first place. You would have never let me do a lot of things. Some good, some bad. Hanging out with Tyler was definitely something you would have killed me for. But if you were here to see me now, you would say "I told you so." And I deserve it."

Some fluid from my nose leaks out of my nostrils. I draw it away from my face with my finger. "I don't understand why Mom hates me so much. You probably saw her kick me out of the house. She said I left her alone. But I didn't mean to. Dad, please, I really didn't mean to hurt her. I'm sorry." My eyes glaze and tears dispense over my eyelids. The glare from the higher city becomes nearly pixelated.

"I wish you were here. If you were still around none of this would have ever happened. Sometimes I forget that you're gone and then somehow I remember and," I hold the ending beneath my tongue. My chin shivers. "I miss you so much. If you were here, I just wish you would be proud of me. I know you would be angry with me because I joined the Imperial Guard. But you know I had to; it was the only way I could stay alive just a little while longer. It's not like I had a choice, either.

"But I think I overstayed my welcome. The only reason I found myself in this mess was that of some asshole and his stupid cult. If MacTavish didn't let me live, I'd be in a prison cell and I would know nothing about the Medo. I don't know, maybe he would have talked to me in confinement. He would have gotten to me somehow. Now, he has control of me, more than Mom ever did." I force a laugh, swallowed by harsh coughs. "He's making me kill for him. And that's not who I am, Dad. I'm not a killer. I don't know what Roarke sees in me, but he's not making me kill anyone. I won't let him, no matter how powerful he is. I remember you telling me to always stand up for what's right. And I am. Or at least I'm trying to; we'll see how that goes."

My teeth grate against the silver spoon, suppressing any distinguished sobs. "I'm staying with the Imperial Guard; there is no question about it. It's just that it's not like the people in the Imperial Guard like me any more than the rest of the world. Some of them despise me, maybe even want me dead. Others would go to the ends of the earth to defend me. But one thing I do know is that I will never trust the Medo more than I trust the kids in my class. I trust that asswipe, Craig Larsson, more than I trust the Medo. And that's saying something.

"Dad, I just want people to like me. I can't change the past from where I am now. Maybe they'll see who I really am, not some gross misconception of who I once was. I won't let the Medo control me."

Hm. Bold of you to assume that I wasn't listening.

"I know you heard every word, Roarke. You can't spare me any privacy, can you? Is there anything of mine that isn't your's, too?"

I heard my name, so I came running. If you didn't want me listening in, you shouldn't haven't mentioned me or the Medo. You brought that upon yourself. For the record, you giving me an attitude isn't levying the deal to you. It can only make me less merciful.

"Go ahead," I sneer. "I refuse to hide the truth of who you really are. This may not be your world, but it's mine, and I have to protect it. This Empire isn't just something you can claim for yourself. You're going to have to fight for it."

Oh, look, a little hero. We'll see how far that gets you, Slater.

"Scared of me, Roarke? The more you talk in my head, the less frightening you become."

Me? Scared of a disobedient and bedeviled boy? Laughable.

"Laugh while you still can. Because one day, I will get to you, and you won't be so tough. You have no right to take reign over Oltima."

I clutch the sides of my head and wince. What the fuck is wrong with me? I have no power to stand up to someone like Roarke. He granted me with his gift but I have no means to use it, much less against him. A minute ago, I was just ranting about how weak and helpless I am and the next I suddenly become a warrior. And now, I'm back to earth.

Maybe I can find the strength to go face-to-face with him. No doubt, he would kill me within seconds of our battle, but someone would have to resist. Since I'm the only one who knows of this, the albatross swings by my neck. And if I die, then the whole world goes blind. Does the reward outweigh the risk?

Am I prepared to give my life?

The ticking of the doorknob behind me doesn't magnetize me from the ominous splendor of Queen's City. I slap my knee with my spoon over my pants, turning to my feet on the step below me. "I don't want to talk, Brian."

Footfalls click against the stone steps. "Well, I'm not Brian, but perhaps I could suffice."

The Colonel takes a seat on the stoop beside me, but I resent the presence. I sniff, feeling the hairs on my wrist against my damp eye sockets. "Do you think I'm a bad person, sir?"

He laughs to himself, almost mockingly. "Would you be satisfied if I said yes? I assume there is an answer that you are looking for."

A white sedan warps by the front of the house. Queen's City is bustling beyond this street, with car horns diffusing into the quieter blocks of Bluefield. I rest my elbows on my upper legs and press into the cold metal railing. I keep my distance, refusing any kind of contact. The shame withdraws me from him.

"Danny is right. I am a killer."

"You were a killer, Slater."

"No, I still am. I still think about the people I killed even if I never saw their face. I see them in my dreams."

Instead of an immediate retort, a few moments pass. The Colonel exhales most of his air. "Just because you were once doesn't mean that you are now. You are not the same person you were a month ago."

I extend my arm, popping out my elbow. The mark of the Medo shines a rich, golden hue, noting Rodney Roarke's nearby residence. The bloom of brilliance reflects as the sunset through the surface of the ocean in James' eyes. Whatever remains of his breath is trapped inside of him.

"Yeah, but I got this," I mumble with tight lips. The longer I am captivated by the glow, the greater the rage within me rises. I squeeze the bowl of the spoon. "And it's not going away anytime soon."

James ignores the M for a brief second to observe me. "May I look at it?"

I reel my arm in toward my chest, masking the glittering ray from judgment. "You aren't going to try to stab me with a needle, are you?" I shiver as a brisk wave of air washes down the sidewalk.

He frowns, blinking. "Of course not."

I give him my wrist and he stretches my arm toward him. As his lanky fingers dance over the mark, the power from inside of me dims into the darkness around us. The air over my head becomes lighter. The Colonel does not pull my arm any closer to him for further examination. He cranes his neck to perceive the blemish at all angles.

I'm going to have to put you on hold. I have more important things to worry about at the moment.

James clears his throats and gazes back at me, liberating my wrist. "I'm sorry that Arthur Jameson did that to you. He was not necessarily... happy about me using the OLC."

"Brian and Celestine told me about how much you hate him."

He scoffs, reaching into his pocket. "Let me put it this way. If the opportunity was presented to me to protect his life, I would. But until then, I have no business respecting him. He's a real bastard; not an ounce of dignity or consideration in his body. So, my duty of showing him in a positive regard is nonexistent."

A silver flask emerges in his grasp. He twists off the cap, almost like a canteen. The sleek curvature of the vial deflects some light from the street lamps beside the road as it gravitates toward me. James leans back with his eyes geared at me. "You drink?"

My hand shoots up between the vial and I. "Uh, I try not to, sir. Thanks, though."

He gives me a flimsy push on the shoulder, followed by a genuine smirk. "That's all right. Good on you, kid. It's a hard habit to break." The Colonel takes a swig from his flask, of unknown specific content, before sealing the lid. He rests his elbows on the stoop behind us and sighs. "So, talk to me. What are you so worried about?"

The bones of my spine press against the railing as I draw my knees to my chest. "Where do you want me to start? I have this mark and people still hate me, Craig Larsson wants to kill me, among a billion other little things. And I don't know what I want to do with my life anymore."

"Well, Larsson is going to hate you, that's inevitable. He was present at the scene when you murdered Talbot's wife, Greta. His animosity is understandable."

"I know it is," I groan, digging my face into my palms. My chin sits at the bottom of my hands.

"Try to talk to him. Let him know that you aren't going to stand for his shit anymore. You aren't the same person you were when you killed her. Make sure he believes it."

I breathe in through my nose, the air sifting through my sorrows. "He doesn't see me as anything except a killer. I'll never be able to show him. And it doesn't help that Hal starts fighting him whenever some words are thrown."

The Colonel stretches out his legs to the sidewalk. "I will take responsibility for that. Maybe some of the current rivalry between Levi and I has factored into their own war. I didn't want Hal to be as confrontational as he has been. He's too much like me, and I don't like it. He was a different kid at the beginning of the summer."

"No, apparently they hated each other from school anyway. The whole situation made them become much worse." I watch James as he tucks away his flask. "I'm going to guess that the OLC made you pretty unpopular, huh?"

James drags himself an inch closer to me and veers in my direction. His hand searches for my shoulder, a familiar yet nearly distinct feeling from the Captain. The sensation of the Colonel's fingertips over my flannel is almost ethereal; a feeling that hardly ever crosses my path. Otherworldly.

His lips grow into a small, unconvincing smile. "It did. I have been vilified by every department of the Imperial Guard, from the district level all the way up to the General himself. Even Brian thought it was the worst decision I have ever made, and he's my only friend anymore. But, Slater, I did it because I believed that it was the right thing to do. I didn't just see the bloody hands. I saw the confused mind, one overtaken by something unnatural. Something about what you were doing seemed off to me. So, I did what I thought was right. And it appeared to have paid off.

"Slater, in our lives, we are going to have to make decisions that may contort society if not dealt with properly. This world is brutal, and I have seen first-hand what ignorance and a hazy conscience can do." His smile disappears into the night. "In our Empire, truth is everything. We must protect reality from those who seek false security. Right now, our way of life is being threatened by these... monsters. The Medo. With that mark on your arm, you have an incredible responsibility to speak your truth. Follow your heart and do what you think is best, not what someone else tells you. Making the right decisions means what is right to you. Don't let others tell you that your choice is wrong because their reality is separate from yours. Use your independence to liberate yourself. The world will look upon you differently if you are true to what you believe."

My eyes become damp, unable to look at the Colonel in the face. I don't want to be burdened with the duty the mark brings. But his words seep into the cracks of my bones; my ribs before they reach my heart and my skull before they reach my brain. The windows to his convoluted soul are open, bright as a clear day. A solitary tear crawls along the crook of my nose.

I have to tell someone. I can't keep this bottled inside of me anymore.

"Sir, can I tell you something? I haven't been able to say this to anyone else." I gaze down at my mark, sparking into a light brown; hidden from the darkness. My hand trembles.

"You haven't told anyone? Slater, I-"

"Please, sir, listen to me," I urge, reaching for his wrist. "I never had the opportunity to tell anyone. I can't bring myself to talk to Brian because he hates this mark almost as much as I do. I'm tired of hiding this from everyone. I need someone else to know so I don't look crazy."

His hand curls around mine slowly, and I detach from him. "Whatever you have to say, I'm listening."

I recycle air and seal my eyelids. When they open, the M is its typical golden glow. Brilliant, like sunlight. "I know the people behind the Medo. They come as voices in my head or sometimes they appear as humans like us. They're usually in my dreams. And since I didn't listen to them, Brian got hurt. The leader of the Medo attacked me at the ceremony, but they got him instead." I unzip my lips to sense a bubble forming over my teeth as they writhe against each other. My temples expand. "Rodney Roarke."

"Slater, whatever happened at the ceremony wasn't your fault. Don't blame yourself for someone else's crime."

"No! Don't you get it? The reason why he keeps harassing me is that he wants something from me. He wanted me so bad that he tried to kill me but Brian took the knife instead of me. When I ran away from you at the ceremony, I was chasing him down. I knew it was him. He said he'll make sure that Brian would be okay if I followed him and his deal. He gave me some of his powers. I'm one of them now.

"I took his deal. I have to kill seven beasts with my new powers when they attack the Empire. I don't know what they are or how dangerous they are, but I'm terrified to find out. I know nothing about them except that they will be here. Very, very soon. And if I die fighting them, the Medo is going to stay in the Empire and continue killing everyone." I set my jaw, attempting to terminate any wiggling that springs from my emotions. "I'm not going to lie, sir, I'm really scared. I'm so stupid; I have no clue what I just got myself into. Now, the Medo is going to come after me and try to kill me, and I don't want anyone else to get hurt. Like, what if they try to hurt Celeste or CJ or Hal, or anybody else that I love? Then it's all my fault."

The barrier of glaze over my eyes snaps and tears come tumbling down my chin. Here I am, a couple of feet away from one of the most powerful men in Queen's City, crying for the end of life as we know it. I may be nearly oblivious, but I know just how foolish I look right now. I'm not familiar with how he takes outward expression of emotion. His status as Colonel and brutal closed-door demeanor is forcing me to hold back on my sobbing. But I can't help myself.

James unveils his flask again and brings it to his lips. "Slater, if you're telling the truth about this, you know I will have to alert the General, right? What you're describing sounds like a direct threat to the Empire and must be dealt with seriously. Is this all true?"

I nod, erasing the drool from my nose. "Yeah." It baffles me why I would ever lie about something like this. My attention turns to the silver bottle in his hand. "Could I have some of that?"

Without any debate, he reaches over his body and exchanges the flask with my words. "Don't go too hard with that. Just a quick sip."

The metal is warm beneath my fingers, as it has been stashed away in his pocket except for these few occasions. I tilt my head back and swallow a dangerously heavy amount of liquid. The hot spices of some familiar kitchen ingredient ravage my tongue and throat as it travels down through my body. My cheeks flush and my forehead burns. I give James his flask back.

I shiver. "What the fuck was that?"

"It's the reason you won't start drinking. It'll control you when you least expect it." The Colonel stuffs the devilish concoction back into his pocket. "Listen, Slater, I can tell that you're worried about the Medo. We all are. I'll make sure that your concern makes it to the office of the General so he can devise some plan to help."

I display the strongest smile that I can muster at the moment. "Thank you, sir."

He rises to his feet, towering over me. He brushes his hands. "No problem. I won't leave you in the dust, kid. I put so much effort into getting you here and I'm not going to stop now." The Colonel winks and turns to his front door. "And, one more thing, Slater?"

My eyes follow every slight movement. "Yeah?"

"I don't want to hear you call me sir again. I don't care if I saved your life or if I'm the Colonel of Queen's. It's James."