Ben Chaney - Son of Sedonia

“Y-yeah…” Matteo sniffled.

“And don’t ever let me catch you with a gun in your hand again, aight? Bad enough one of us got blood on his soul, ain’t no need for you to have it too,” Jogun said. Matteo sucked in a sob and nodded.

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Cool,” Jogun said, “Love you, big man…” He wrapped an arm around his little brother and pulled him in close. Matteo hugged him back. Jogun both heard and felt Matteo’s stomach growl.

“Boy, you forget to eat again? How you expect to get stronger if you don’t—” Jogun froze. His eyes rolled down to his left arm. A shiny, jagged barb stuck out below ‘T99’ on his shoulder. Dead cold spread out from it. His mind screamed as he watched himself slump and topple, sprawling him flat on his back. The sounds of thumping footsteps and whining servos approached from all sides. Matteo threw himself over Jogun’s limp body.

“Don’t move, kid!” One of four EXOs shouted. They surrounded them, glaring through lifeless black visors.

“Just stick a spur in him!” said another EXO. Behind his back, Jogun felt Matteo’s hand close around the pistol grip.

“Stand the fuck down, Shima! Stun this one and his heart could stop. What do you think happens when all of Rasalla learns we killed a sick kid? Just pull him off.”

The one they called Shima nodded, then approached the brothers. Matteo started pulling the pistol out from Jogun’s waistband.

“D-don’t,” Jogun rasped through clenched teeth, “No…b-blood…” Jogun’s wild eyes met his brother’s. Matteo released the pistol as an Augged hand clamped on his shoulder. His bony arms tried to cling, but were easily ripped away. They tossed him to the side.

Jogun tensed as the four officers converged on him. His body was deaf to every plea for movement. They flipped him over like a carcass at the market and cuffed his wrists. The ranking officer stooped low next to him and raised the visor. Kabbard… The flat scowl and gray eyes few got away to talk about. The straight, sharp scar from chin to cheek left no doubt.

“You know my face, you piece of shit?” asked Kabbard. Jogun could only stare. “Good.” Kabbard turned to his officers.

“So our boy here must know what we do to lady-killing scumbags when we catch ’em,” said one of the others. An older, deeper voice. Jogun’s face contorted as he tried to spit a curse. It came out in a weak hiss. Kabbard shrugged and stood up.

“You heard the man.” Kabbard nodded. Shima stepped forward and landed a kick into Jogun’s ribs. Two others followed suit, driving carbon-fiber toes into the kidneys and shoulders. Sharp cracks punctuated Jogun’s grunts. Through the pain, he saw Matteo crumple in the corner of the roof, hands pressed over his ears with eyes clenched shut.

“Pick him up.” Kabbard ordered. The EXOs lifted Jogun by his cuffed wrists. Kabbard touched under Jo’s chin. Raised the bloody head.

“Her name was Kathy. She was a District Attorney. A wife and a mother. I’d kill you right here if I weren’t already sending you to Hell.” Kabbard’s dead-eyes glared into him. The Sergeant’s finger servos buzzed as they curled into an armored fist. It cracked into Jogun’s jaw with a right cross. The world shocked to white, then went black a moment.

Straightening, Kabbard pressed two fingers against his throat.

“Omega-Two ready for pick-up.”

The throbbing of hover engines emerged from the background noise of the Slums and grew to a pounding roar as the drop-ship flew in. Jogun watched in horror. The black cockpit glass and pulsing red beacons at the nose formed a gaunt, lifeless face. A demon without mercy. A yawning mouth opened toward the rear of the thirty-foot craft. Dull fluorescent lighting blinked on inside, revealing rows of unconscious, bloody prisoners sat harnessed and bolted into metal flight seats. Two of the EXOs grabbed Jogun under the arms and dragged him toward the hatch. With agonizing effort, Jogun turned his heavy, shaking head. Looked at Matteo through eyes nearly swollen shut.

“M-matteo,” his mouth sputtered blood, “Y-you got this…” Something like a smile creased his broken mouth as the EXOs threw him inside. They found an empty seat, hefted Jogun’s limp body, and dropped him in. A bulky metal harness locked down on him. Kabbard and the officers stepped inside.

“We’re good here, button it up,” Kabbard said. The hatch door clamped shut, swallowing all of them. As the thrum of the engines picked up, the drop-ship listed heavily to the right, pulled up, then blasted off into the night sky.

Matteo whimpered. Though unhurt, he struggled to open his eyes. The rooftop was dark and quiet again, and wet black stains glistened on the metal. The magazine sprawled open near Matteo’s feet. Its pages flapped in the breeze.

SERGEANT KABBARD FELT the landing gear of the IG-6 touch down at last, though tonight he couldn’t let the relief of the dying engines fully take him. The worst part of the job waited outside the passenger hatch. He, Mason, and Shima unhooked their harnesses and stood up. Checked each prisoner’s restraints. Kathy Roland’s killer looked up as Kabbard tugged on the shackles. The swollen eye-pits stared, weeping bloody tears.

“Show time,” Kabbard said as he stepped to the door. Keyed his throat mic. “Rear compartment secure, open her up,” he said. The hatch hissed open, revealing a legion of reporters, camera men, and bright stinging lights. Their questions overlapped one another in a squabbling din that echoed through the main hangar of EXO Headquarters. Shima, the new kid, grinned and waved. Kabbard slapped the hand down. He felt bile rise in his throat as he prepped the broken, bloody scumbags for transfer. Cuffed at the wrists and ankles, each limp body was un-hooked and placed on a procession of hover gurneys. Kabbard sure as hell didn’t feel like a movie star. Covered in dried blood and Rasalla dirt, he stepped out.

“Sergeant! Sergeant!” one of the voices called out from the paparazzi, “Which one killed the District Attorney?”

Kabbard looked at the bodies. Pointed to the boy who had shown up in the last mem-data entry on Mrs. Roland’s RFID chip. A skinny, malnourished kid of eighteen covered in bruises, blood, and clear bone breaks. Kabbard knew what was coming next. The GloboMetro press corps wanted a monster. A raging, evil face to justify the fear of the people beyond the Border. This little shit-bird didn’t qualify.

“Sergeant, how do you account for the prisoner’s condition?”

“Resisting arrest,” Kabbard said as he tried to push past the throng. The voices shouted more questions until one cut above the rest.

“Sir, Kathy Roland was a staunch defender of due process and fair treatment of the Dwellers! What do you think she would say about this?”

Kabbard stopped in his tracks. Turned to face the reporter. A jumped up twenty-something metroboy with short, carefully shaped hair and a pound of makeup. An Inner Ring yuppie who’d never known real horror.

“She can’t say anything now. This Dweller shot her in the face for the contents of her vehicle. Happened plain as day in the mem-feed, so we were able to get the conviction on the way here, now if you’ll excuse us…” Kabbard, Shima, and Mason towed the line of prisoners to the acquisitions team while the other officers corralled the press.

“Fuckin’ vultures,” Mason muttered.

“Just another part of the machine,” Kabbard said. He was tired in his bones. The fighting would never stop, outlasting his last breath by centuries. And the City would always demand more. The procession stopped at the acquisitions team and the transfer shuttle. As the bodies started tracking into the cargo hold, most of their eyes were wide open. Scanning the high ceilings of the EXO HQ bay in animal terror. Tears streamed through the dried blood on the murderer’s cheeks.