Empathy Ch. 3

No one had noticed Poe was no longer with the crowd during the scuffle that took place. As a nurse rushed over to Miko and the crowd crescent-mooned around in anticipation, I scoured the complex for the kid. He was nowhere to be found. I needed to check on Hec, too. There was zero doubt in my mind that his outburst had to do with the dreaded he killed yesterday. Taking a life stains the soul. Maybe he was having visions too?

As I made my way towards the exit, I could hear the whispers arising. A cacophony of Bshh's, Pow's and Wham's came from different sections of the small crowd as they acted out the scene in slow motion while the rest of the room murmured disapproval or disgust. This was sure to cause a huge stir in the encampment. Miko would grab his goons, play the victim and turn this into something expensive, either in the form of tickets or title. This is the last thing we needed right now. I could feel my annoyance reaching its threshold. Hector and Miko, Poe and the dreams and the god damn Council. Hector first?

There was a lovely scent of fresh rain and mud as I left the tent. After stepping into the sunlight that finally made its way through the clouds in an attempt to match the excitement of the morning, I saw Poe in the courtyard, looking around panicked and hunched over. Clutched in his hands was the little locket that I had seen last night, only now it was sending out burst of sound and light like some beacon. As he scanned around him in a panic his eyes found mine.

"What is happening?" he yelled out.

"Turn it off whatever it is!" I sprinted up to him, clawing for the newly living device.

"Here, you take it." He fumbled it over into my hands. After puncturing it through and through with my knife I crushed it underfoot, turning my attention back to Poe. He could feel that I was clearly seething and about to boil over.

"Where the hell did you get that?"

"I, I.. I've always had it. My birth mother gave it to me as a baby. I swear it has never done anything like that before!"

I pulled him by his collar up to my face and stared into his sunken and shifting eyes, while mine matched his with a smokey crimson pouring out of them "Who the fuck are you, Poe? This was a god damn homing signal; you might have ju-"

I was knocked back the length of a train car, straight on my ass and unsure what the hell just happened. My body ached. There was a wave of dust in every direction, with Poe as the center piece. But it wasn't coming from him. The deafening sonic boom came from above and was followed by mechanical tendrils slamming down one by one all around the encampment, digging their drill tipped legs deep into the earth. They began sending tremors through the ground, loosening the soil. My ears were ringing, if not bleeding at this point from the initial blast as I tried to assess the situation. Each mechanical intruder with its slender legs had a bulbous head covered in coiled knobs that began sparking before shooting off bolts of lighting, chaining them to one another like an electrified net suspended 20 feet in the air. As my skin tightened and my hair began to stand straight up, I could hear the buzzing of the machines. The dust along the ground finished its reverberations and then began shifting like a slow fog on the landscape. I could smell the burnt air from the lightning net above. A moment later the fog formed little twisters, dancing around and joining into larger, angry elementals. The intensity rose up to the point that my vision vanished just an arm's reach in front of me. There was metallic debris motivated by the magnetic tendril turrets that became a constant stream of shrapnel in the dust storm and it almost felt as if it was trying to pull my blood towards it. Little fireworks of purple and blue danced in the storm like hands making static on a blanket in the black of night.

I pulled my dust scarf up over my nose and wrapped my face in my arms. I could feel the slicing winds as they etched into my clothes. Most people in the encampment were fumbling around, screaming in panic, while the prepared few readied themselves for the impending fight. The panic poured in just to be drowned out by the rumble of the large, ominous ship that now eclipsed the skies above us. They found us.

A multitude of cannons with bubbling burnt orange liquid filling their glass hoppers began firing from the ship, ripping through any breathing person in the encampment. These smokey rust-colored bursts of energy and chemicals were designed to surge every neuron in the brain and flex every muscle in the body, immobilizing the victim while amplifying every single sensation. Smaller ships lowered teams of dreaded around the outskirts of the camp, slowly driving everyone towards the center and cuffing every person-rendered-motionless by the chem cannons. Those that were able, fought off the invaders and searched for safety.

There was a vortex of dirt swirling around Poe as the large sky vessel slowly lowered itself towards him. The back hatch began to open up. As the giant hydraulics lowered the dock, I looked to the kid and back up, unsure whether he had planned this or was bait from the start. A second later he was engulfed in the angry dust. I could feel regret and remorse coursing through him. What did he regret? I screamed out his name but realized that everything was muted by the encore of machinery around us.

The hatch was fully open now, like a grand stage for the final performance. There was a group of jet-black, armor-clad militants. Their signature armor had a picture of a crescent moon with a drip coming from the lower tip and ripples beneath on their chest. The ox-blood colored band of the Hall Council was front and center on all the dreaded except one. There he stood, this distinguished soldier with a tattered grey, military dust cape that cloaked the top half of his armor. He had an ominous cloud about him, like a misty blood flowing in and out of the rips in the cloth. The glowing scythe at his side was instantly terrifying, if not from the magnetic and piercing violet hue, then simply the legend behind its user.

The Reaper.

"Look what you've done, Abby" came the distorted voice of the Reaper before he chuckled callously. The tone was robotic, but the vocal rhythm felt human. It felt familiar. A deep shiver chilled my spine. I couldn't know for sure why his voice cut through the storm when everything else was drowned out, but it must have been related to the machinery covering half of his face. It was similar fashion to a gas mask, but I couldn't tell its true function. I felt a crushing darkness swarming around and constricting me as Reaper spoke of my deeds. Blamed me. Spited me. It felt so personal as he reverberated my failures and my intimate fears. "You buried your friends, buried bodies in the name of your precious research." Time was now standing still, but his words were carving deep and doing it quickly. The only two audible things in existence were my slowing heartbeats under those words. So, this is what he does...

The battering of my soul stopped for a fleeting moment, and it looked as if he was scanning me for deeper fears. Or maybe he was just toying with his food. He was too far away in the dusty winds to tell for sure, but for the smallest moment of time it nearly seemed as if there was a faithful showing of concern. It spent even less time fleeting from his thoughts.

Still though, the silent pressure was fractured.

"Abby, get out of there." Came a friendly voice that severed my eye contact with the monster hovering above me. I traced the origins of the curse-breaking incantation like a glowing path. Talith stood behind the armory to my right with Hector right behind her waving his arms, both suited in armor and fully masked from the toxic environment. His neck was straining, and his face expressed he was yelling, but the sonic distortion was still drowning out any waves of sound. He was inaudible. I turned back to Talith. Yes, it was her voice culling me out of the void. Her soothing words breaking my mind from its prison like the shackles on Poe's wrists the night before. But I couldn't hear her. No, it was as if she thought so hard it manifested in my brain. Impossible.

Turning my gaze back to the fight at hand I could see Poe fighting off two armed guards. It felt like a show to throw me off his scent until one of them bludgeoned in his knee, angling him down as the other grabbed him by the neck. He slapped both of his hands up to the temples of the man that grabbed him, causing a shock wave to blast through the soldier's skull. He stammered back in confusion. The other guard had brought his stick down on the back of Poe's skull, putting him to sleep at the same time. The guard that was stunned by Poe had recovered his wits and lunged. I was in disbelief, realizing he lunged past Poe and right at the other guard, tackling him to the ground and beating him till he was left bloodied and confused.

As I attempted to move towards the ship to help Poe my body seized up and I crashed heavily to the ground. There was an orange smokiness glazing over my vision as my body became forfeit. All I could do was watch the scene unfold.

Two more guards jumped off the ship and pulled the aggressor off of the unconscious guard that had a skull half-caved-in by his own comrade. Another two guards descended and went straight for Poe. He had already come-to and was flexing his hands open as if ready to shoot beams through the dreaded that stood in his way. He yelled out but to no avail, his body was too weak from the first blast. They cautiously secured this exhausted empath, first snapping his fingers then cuffing his arms behind his back. His face dragged along the dirt and rocks as they pulled him by the legs towards the ship. They hoisted him up onto the ship.

The treasonous soldier that Poe had shocked was bound and put on his knees, awaiting execution. He was foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog. He had a natural violence to him. I could feel his only regret being that he couldn't do more damage around him. They fired a single shot and let his body thud against the ground. They turned their attention to the rest of us. I could feel his nasty energy coursing through me but pushed it down like vomit after one shot too many of a dirty whiskey. He was better off dreaded. Memories started to fill my skull like a stop motion picture. Again, I pushed down the visions slashing my mind up. Not now. I scanned the field to see most of our bloodied brethren rendered motionless and surrounded. They were still alive but their fates would be much worse than death. The only chance at any of us making it out was the armory and the tunnels below. A place I would not have the luxury of visiting with the last of these good people. I tried to look back at Hector and Talith but still couldn't move.

Get everyone you can out of here! I hoped Talith could hear me as I had heard her before, but there was only silence apart from my own thoughts. I'm not worth it.

"You were never as good as you thought, you filthy failure."

As the Reaper whipped me again with his words, I felt a certain war going on within him too, collateral from Poe's energy burst. I laughed a bit, knowing the pain of regret all too well. I hope that feeling tears out your insides. Realizing my voice would be mute, all I could do was smile as he raised his scythe my direction, preparing the execution order. The feeling of the rogue shrapnel ripping through my face was visceral. The dust wove its way into every crevice of skin and cloth, coating my lungs. If he didn't kill me, the storm would manage just fine. The glow of the charging cannons was oddly serene, firing off in bursts of amber color through the purple lightning net.

A sweet subtle tune played in my head, reminding me of the single time the Sir and I laughed, danced and sang to each other. It had been my ninth birthday. It was a hopeful tune with melancholic lyrics backed by a single acoustic guitar. Hmnn hum hm hmmm hmn hummm or something of the sort came her whispered melodies. Everything slowed down further still, but in harmony with the acceptance of death and the song in my head guiding my hand.

I learned that you don't always see your life flash before your eyes on the brink of death. There were too many apologies still owed. The world was ending because of my hubris. Reaper was right. I sighed out a thousand mistakes and looked my killer in the face. "Maybe we ought to lobotomize you instead of killing you" came his voice one last time before lowering his scythe. The specific verbiage stirred something inside me, breaking me down completely. I hadn't heard that phrase in years.

"I hate you! God damn you, Janice!" I screamed out, knowing for certain her involvement in this. I still couldn't understand why though.

I felt arms around me, ushering me up. If my body could have resisted, it would have, just a little too ready to be done, wanting it to be finished here and now. I felt a pinch in my neck that swam through my milky eyes and shocked me back to the present where I felt talith, not the dreaded, yanking me back towards the armory. I looked up to see one of Hectors rockets burst on the purple energy field around the ship. It had blocked any fatal damage, but it staggered The Reaper and his faithful, giving us the moment we needed to duck inside the armory. The remaining few empaths gave cover fire.

Once inside we had to act fast. The heavy metal doors slammed behind us with the windows following suit. The overhead artificial and ultraviolet lights came on in the safehouse that was otherwise shielded from all outside light.

I was hysterical, unable to process the current situation. "I'll kill her, I swear to god I'll end that monster's life."

"Hey, hey shhh, it's okay Abs," came Taliths voice. "We got you." Sensing I was about to mouth off on her while trying to comfort me, Hector closed in.

"And we will get her" he assured me as he placed his forehead against mine, staring into my soul. "But we gotta go, right now!" He nodded with certainty and gave me a firm pat on my back, nearly enough to knock the wind out of me and perfectly enough to snap me out of it.

"Okay, fuck it, grab the duffels and dailies." I pointed at the group of the remaining empaths and gestured towards the lockers, then towards our mechanical wagon. We already had duffle bags of deadly trinkets, weapons and gear. Next to them were the backpacks of rations and survival kits for when this inevitability came about.

Hector gave a thumbs up and took the lead. "Talith and I will line this whole building with as many explosives, smokes and chem gear that we can. We gunna blow this bitch down behind us and hope for the best." He slapped his signature welding goggles over his eyes and went to work. The armory was the most secure facility we had yet would not hold them off for more than a few minutes. They would shred the locks and hinges with their plasma torches. We will mourn the ones we lost later. We set a majority of our excess explosives and flammables against the entrance and load-bearing structures, ready to detonate once they had made it inside. Next, we set up smoke grenades and chemical compounds around the perimeter to create the lowest visibility and biggest irritability possible when they did breach our bastion. Hoping this would hold them off a little longer and eventually cover up our escape in a sea of rubble, we made our way through the web of tunnels hidden beneath us on foot. An encampment of well over 100 was now down to 15. All 15 of us donned headlamps as we descended.

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Journal entry xx - The Southern Compass (Outer Region of Centrix)

12 p.m.

There was a certain buzz starting to build around the outskirts of the capital today. Not just the standard hum of city rail cars and low-end droids selling useless junk. Not just the burning in my nostrils from the grimy unkept sectors of the city. As if by destiny, this announcement occurred during my monthly supply run. There were chants, like a call to arms over "The Bottomless" or "The Burning Fist?" or something along those lines, couldn't quite tell. It felt like a manhunt was taking place and it spurred some relief. The people must have woken up to the Hall Council and were itching to take them down. Itching to get themselves back. I was curious who they had used as the scapegoat, praying it wasn't Janice, but didn't have time to read the papers and still had more than enough enemies looming. The city was always a dangerous place, but it had become deadly as soon as I voiced my opposition to these leaders and their poisonous intentions. What started as threats and blackmail quickly became back-alley attacks and attempts on my life, no doubt orchestrated by the council. Even if an uprising was imminent, I wasn't safe anywhere in this part of the world. There was a tight schedule as we were meeting with a vagabond group outside the city walls tonight, hoping to find deep city ears for our back pocket. Their intel felt authentic, and their loyalties seemed promising. One the councils lead biomechanics, Talith, had secretly been feeding the leader of this group information and supplies. Keeping my head down low and hooded from the world, I removed myself from the mobs that were drawn to the giant electric screens like moths, where I slipped into the shadow infested parts of the street less traveled. A few markets and alleyways down, I had made my way to my good friend Jed. Most knew him as Keen-Eye or The Supplier... a tame name for his smuggling and procuring. I had known him for years, having barrowed his talents to get Heartlocket up and running before any official funding had taken place. He had a slight hunch to his back or maybe just a crooked neck from staring down to hide his bearded face at all times. But he moved very quickly for his sickly stature, almost gliding around silently in his ashen robes. Bits and pieces of him had been replaced by various metals and sensors over the years. His right eye was encased in a monocle of fine metals and tempered glass. A rare and useful trinket indeed. It would light up and feed him information on anything chipped, anything registered. Made him all the more effective at his job. There was something off about him this time. Always cautious but today extra twitchy.. like he was afraid of his shadow. And Today, he spoke about the heat that was coming down on Council tech trading and the ever-increasing dangers. Obviously, this was a less than casual way to bring up his version of inflation. There wasn't anything I could do about it and frankly he was still cheaper and more discreet than anyone else around. I didn't have much time and was pretty low on trusted colleagues. I slid over some mosswood and tickets in exchange for a duffle bag of various trinkets glowing blue and humming. He rubbed the mosswood over the irritated, stinking pink flesh surrounding his ocular implant and let out a sigh of relief. He pocketed the tickets in haste while darting his eyes all around. We exchanged pleasantries with a solid grasping of each other's shoulders and a nod before parting ways. Normal circumstance would call for a trade of intel but with the energy rising around me I felt it best to be swift in my exit. He mentioned something about the news as I was leaving.

1:30 p.m.

Choruses and boos had echoed through the courtyard as I neared the train station. I vividly remember an anxious bloodlust in the air that only people of desperation could conjure. "The Lobotomist" chants were finally synced enough for me to hear clearly. The term reverberated over and over in my head. I sank back into recollection of a different time.

In the earlier days of our experiments we had theorized, tested and tried many different procedures in order to get the desired results. Early trials on various animals were working well and we had been approved for our first human subjects. Our first few patients never fully recovered from the incisions we made and concoctions they drank. They were numb, unable to keep from drooling out their murmurs when we questioned for results. Our tools had been too crude, and we trusted the hand of man over precision lasers. They had signed a form... They had nowhere to go, no desire to live with their pain. I shouldn't have had the power to make their final choice. Their vacant expressions following the failed trials pounded my heart for a long while. The bodies piled up for the first couple years and yet we kept going, kept tinkering. We had to install an industrial strength furnace. We smoked out the skies with our failures. Any time I smell burnt citrus I'm reminded of the chemicals we used to cover up the charred flesh. Janice, in her ever-shifting paradigm, convinced me out of my catatonia with assurance that this was for the greater good, that they were a necessary sacrifice. "These aren't random Lobotomies" she had insisted. Oh, what cruel irony if she was indeed the scapegoat.

As loose papers fluttered around my feet on the trashy street, one of the articles wrapped around my leg, asking to be read. I indulged:

"Our many year journey to save you from her sins is still underway. Without thought for any of your lives she devised a self-fulfilling procedure and numbed our minds. She is dangerous, she is out there. We are still fighting this war. We need you to help us find her. Find The Lobotomist and bring her to us, alive preferred."

The rest of the article had been ripped off and the heading picture was weathered too quickly from shitty ink on worse paper. They had to be referring to her and I knew then that I needed to help her. I rushed through the trainyard and into my hole-in-the-wall hideout I frequented for these supply runs.

4 p.m.

I never thought that our original work would be thrust back into the limelight, but the Council has launched a new campaign to absolve themselves of the destruction they caused and change the narrative. Apparently now they were doing everything they could to "fix" the problem that Janice caused with Heartlocket before they took over. Utter bullshit and nonsensical if you paid any attention to the timeline. They took it from us because it was so stable and effective.

After making it through the maze of a city I was nearing the exit, ready to meet up with the vagabonds. All exits to the city have a large hovering orb that projected the news in 360° and something about it caught my eye. It was airing the same thing as the rest of the city, but I finally had a clear picture. I spun around nearly blacking out with an intense tunnel vision, catching the same glimpse in every televised window. The current ads on planes and trains and billboard are that of altered and ugly depictions of me, The Lobotomist. A part of my soul fell to the floor crying while another portion was foaming at the mouth and seething. It was all designed and headed by their spokesman, who entered the screen with conviction about my foul deeds. Dr. D. Soloman. Dr. J.D. Soloman.

I knew her as Janice.