Chapter Forty-Six – Truths – Part Three

The best truths are the ones you don't have to know.

- WSA Retention Advisor Hamlet -

Special Agent Thomas is tapping his fingers on the table impatiently now. It's been nearly an hour since they sent for medical. They've tried asking me questions, but it's pretty difficult for me to give more than one-word answers, and most of the answers I have given were to tell them to fuck off.

Thomas lets out a loud and irritated sigh, "Are they for real right now?"

"We don't have priority right now, we just have to sit tight," Fisban says, looking at her neatly manicured nails. She doesn't have a single strand of hair out of place. Her bun is so tight it looks like free Botox.

"How the fuck don't we have priority, he's the prime suspect and…"

"You want to show all your cards?" she interrupts, not turning from her hands as she inspects them carefully.

Prime suspect… well, that's um… great.

"No, ma'am, sorry, ma'am."

Ma'am? So she outranks him. The side eye that she gives him next confirms that. It's usually hard to tell, they don't advertise their rank structure in the same way we do. This guy Thomas must be a rookie.

Another ten minutes pass, and I'm getting a little better at trying to get through the interface. I managed to get into my notifications tab. Bunch of messages from Cortez. I only caught a glimpse of one of them before the electric shock pulled me out.

[ SPC Cortez: Fisban works for… ]

Fuck, I try to open it up again, but the shock pulls me out again. This is definitely a form of sensory torture. I'd love to put that night, night princess fucker in this chair.

Fisban is working with someone? What does that even mean? Why would Cortez say that?

"I can't just sit here," Thomas says, standing up.

"Where are you going?" Fisban asks.

"To find medical, I'm not going to fucking sit here all day like a prisoner," he says, exiting the room, slamming the door on the way out.

Fisban looks at her wrist, then presses something on it. The lights flicker in the room.

"We have approximately three minutes before the room's recording devices come back online."

Huh? What the fuck.

"I'm not here in the same capacity as Special Agent Thomas, I work for someone you may be familiar with, at least in a tertiary way."

I blink at her.

"I'll be brief," she looks directly at me, "We know."

"What…" I manage to say, trying not to swallow hard.

"Everything."

What is she saying? How the fuck would they… oh shit, did someone squeal? That's fine if they did though, if it saved their ass, I'm happy. However, I'm not divulging details unless she confirms them first. This might be a ruse.

"I'm supposed to ask you one question," she explains. Pulling out a gun and putting it on the table, she raises an eyebrow at the gun, "Depending on your answer."

So… she's going to kill me if I don't answer her question correctly. My eyes droop at her. This is a pretty elaborate tactic… and also pretty lame.

"Bull… shit…"

Her expression is placid, "I just need you to finish my sentence."

"Fuck… you…"

"Respec on what?"

My eyes bulge. How the fuck does she know that… I haven't told anyone about Respec on Death. How would she know what it's called? Do other people have the skill? How did they find out? Is the system going to kill me if I answer?

She takes the gun into her hand and stands, walking toward me slowly, pressing it against my forehead. I hear the safety click. My eyes trace up to hers, she's going to do it, there's no hesitation in her. Those are the eyes of someone who will kill when told to.

"Three… Two… One…"

What if she pulls it... what if Respec doesn't activate outside of Gates...

"Death…" I blurt out. My heart is pounding in my chest, and my breath is unsteady.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

She blinks, nodding to me. She raises her wrist up to her face, "Key word confirmed, proceed with the plan."

The lights in the facility turn off. Silence, until the emergency back up power turns on. I see her in dull red light.

"We'll be in touch, once this situation is contained," she says, putting the gun back in the holster and sitting down, "Until then, keep your mouth shut, less is more."

"How…" I ask, frustratingly it's still hard to speak. I think I might have torn my vocal cords or the muscles around it.

She doesn't answer, leaving my mind racing. What the hell is going on? How is it possible that she knows about Respec on Death? What does she mean by contained?

The normal lights turn back on after a few minutes. I hear a rumble in the room like an explosion just went off somewhere… what's going on?

The door bursts open, it's Thomas, shades askew, "All hands on deck… that fucker… he wasn't dead."

Fisban stands, straightening her suit, "Who?"

"The off-worlder, Bregan."

She rolls her neck, pulling her gun again, and nodding, both departing from the room. Leaving me even more confused. Bregan is dead, I watched him get shot myself, felt his body die, and even harvested his Wither Charge. Is this part of the plan? Another explosion rattles the room, sending dust into the air. Holy shit, what the hell is going on out there?

The power in the room flickers after another tremor, the emergency backup lights flashing red again. More quakes in the floor, and suddenly something strikes the door, denting it in half, showering the room in debris, and blowing my seat against the floor. My head cracks against the ground, dazing me.

"Fuck…" I breathe.

"Evacuate the facility!" someone yells in the hall.

A familiar sensation crawls up my spine.

[ 1 x Wither Charge Gained ]

Memories flood against the confusion of my throbbing head. A massive suit of armor, and a Mace with brilliant blue flames. My body tightens as I feel the mace drive into the owner of the memories body. The flames engulfing them. It's like the Mace of the Ardent Flame, except it's not, the flames are a darker blue. The armor, it's almost identical to Bregan's Aegis… but it's not, the pauldrons and the boots are wrong, the color is slightly off too. What the hell? I blink through the memory as I feel hands grabbing me.

"Come on princess," a familiar voice says, pulling me up out of the chair.

It's that fucking guy again. The night, night princess guy.

He drags me through the rubble.

"Hey, help me carry him!" he yells at someone in the hall.

They curse under their breath but grab my other arm. Dragging me out of the room into the hallway. Another feeling slides up my spine.

[ 1 x Wither Charge Gained ]

I hear the sounds of a shifting building and gunfire. Massive cracks are forming in the walls, the red lights of the emergency back up are flickering now too. Ahead of me, I see someone I know, Tran.

"Jimmy!" he yells, arms cuffed behind his back, turning to the princess guy he says, "Let me help."

The building shakes again.

"Fuck's sake," the princess guy says, helping Tran out of his cuffs, "Grab his legs."

The pace increases, and we pass by Gilroy in another hall being led toward the exit.

"The fuck is going on?" he asks.

None of the suits answer, but I get another pop-up.

[ 1 x Wither Charge Gained ]

More memories, someone pretending to be Bregan is smashing the hell out of people, breaking walls and burning half the building down. Holy cluster fuck.

The wall in front of us breaks as the massive suit of Armor crashes through it. Glowing red eyes. Oh, fuck me…

It seems to ignore us, crashing through the next wall like it just doesn't give a fuck about doors. It can't be Bregan… wait.

"Triage…"

My eyes dilate fully as time slows, I look over at the suit of armor. A regular-sized person inside it. That's definitely not Bregan. What the fuck is going on? I release the skill and time rips back to full swing. Heavy dust and smoke coating the air.

The building shakes as the person barrels through each wall, leaving blue fire in their wake. It's definitely not the same color as the Mace of the Ardent Flame. A familiar voice comes running through the hole in the wall.

"Take the prisoners to evac route Charlie," Fisban says, wiping dust off her brow, a few of her hairs finally out of place.

"Roger, ma'am," Princess guy says.

My head's still a little fuzzy, but my vision's becoming less blurry. Tran and the others carry me to some kind of parking garage beneath the facility. There are a bunch of injured people down here. They throw Tran and me in the back of a van and slam the door closed. It's cramped in here, a third of the van is a cage, and the other two-thirds is full of seats. The driver door of the van opens, separated from us by a metal cage and thick plexiglass, a worried-looking suit fumbles with the keys in the ignition. The passenger door opens next, another suit.

"Don't take off until it's full!" someone barks.

"Roger, sir."

Outside the van, I hear arguing.

"I'm a Cleric, I can help," a familiar yet muffled voice says from outside the van. Verantha? She must have been getting questioned too.

"Fine," another voice says, "But be quick about it."

"Goddess of Light, hear my prayer, thy humble follower beseeches thy Divine Blessing. Holy magic, blessing of Goddess Amaetha."

Tran looks me over, "You good bro?"

I nod weakly, I feel blood streaming down the side of my head where I hit the ground earlier though.

"Hey!" Tran yells, turning and banging on the door of the van, "Can we get a fucking healer?"

The van shakes, I think something major just exploded. The door opens again and I see Gilroy, they shove him inside and slam the door closed. It's even more cramped now, Gilroy is half laying across Tran.

"What the fuck is going on?" Gilroy asks, his eyes are wide.

"Fuck, can you shift over?" Tran asks, groaning under Gilroy.

Another explosion, and the passenger doors swing open, more suits piling in. The back of the van opens again, they shove Verantha forward. She looks back and forth at the tangled mess on one side with Tran and Gilroy, then at me.

"There's no room," she says, but they shove her forward again.

She tries to gingerly climb in, but they push her forward on top of me, her chest smacking my face and smothering me. The door slams closed and the van lurches forward.

"Can't… breathe…" I try to yell, wiggling under her like a worm.

"Stop groping me!" she yells, her breasts smacking me in the chin.

Tran and Gilroy shift, to give Verantha room.

"He can't move!" Tran yells over the confusion, "You're fucking suffocating him!"

"What?" she yells back.

Stars start forming in my vision until the van lurches to the side, freeing my face from her breasts of doom. Holy fuck, sweet air.

"His tendons aren't connected!" Gilroy yells.

"Why?" she asks, the van lurches again, her shoulder smacking my jaw as I try to gasp for air underneath her.

This compartment was designed for two people max. This is miserable.

"Heal him!" Tran yells over the screeching tires as the driver slams on the brakes. Verantha's breasts slap me in the chin again, a prospect that under normal circumstances I wouldn't be entirely offended by… but I can't fucking breathe again.

"Goddess of Light, hear my prayer, thy humble follower beseeches thy Divine Blessing. Holy magic, blessing of Goddess Amaetha."

Relief floods me as I feel my tendons reconnecting and my head becoming clearer, I shift her out of the way, rolling to my side. Both of us still pressed forcefully together, our faces less than a breath apart, her green hair is splayed over her vibrant green eyes. She looks… pissed.

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