Last Step
"273, hey! How you doing?"
Blade watched the officers move around her, cautiously. Then she moved her eyes back, "What d'you want, Bradshaw."
He raised an eyebrow, "Bradshaw?"
She gave a low sigh. She couldn't do this for much longer. Even her bruised mind could see what was wrong with hurting these people. They barely even knew what they were doing. "I mean 249."
"We're just here to see the new toy. Aint that right, boys."
She gave a grim smile at the ridiculous analogy, "I'm not the new toy. I'm just the unbroken toy."
"Same thing, aint it."
"No, not really."
"The Commandant wants to see you." Another said, raising an eyebrow, with the same smile as his, "We're here as your... escort. Apparently you skipped out on his last call."
She looked at him. She hadn't skipped out. She'd killed the guy who'd given her the message and chucked his body over the side. You didn't have to obey orders from dead people. She'd found that out quite some time ago.
But there were more of them this time. About four. She couldn't tell for sure without looking over her shoulder. And she sure as hell wasn't going to let them see her do that.
She nodded, slowly, "Fine. Let's go."
She turned on her heel and started off. She had to brush past an unmoving 249, and then promptly slap away his arm as he attempted to slide it around her waist. She turned to give him a slight push away, and by the time she had turned back they had almost passed his cell.
Jaina.
She stopped, immediately. She glanced up at him. Garth looked at her, face emotionless.
They are taking you to the Commandant?
She gave a small, slow nod.
Yes. He has something in store for you that you cannot anticipate. Be careful.
"Come on, darling, let's get moving." One of the Officers drawled. She frowned slightly and managed to block him out.
What do you mean?
Garth just looked at her.
Her heart fluttered in her chest. Over the weeks, whenever they had seen glances of each other, he had been perfectly open, perfectly honest. Now he was hiding something from her. And whatever it was... it couldn't be good.
"273? What the hell are you staring at?"
"What's up with her and the Will guy?"
She shook her head, holding up a hand in a silent gesture to back off, not even glancing at him.
What's going on.
I do not know when we will be able to speak again. The Commandant is threatening to move me deeper within the Spire.
He hesitated, looking at her.
Stay strong. Do not let them break your will.
One of the guys seemed to take offence to her raised hand, and grabbed hold of it, twisting. Pain shot through her previously broken fingers and her attention snapped back to him again. She fought with his grip but he yanked her arm up behind her back, forcing it up until she started feeling it grind, so close to coming out of place.
"Get your hands off me." She growled, fighting with his grip.
"Leave the sorcerer, girl. Let's get moving."
He yanked her away from the cell and pain split through her.
Garth felt her pain, and, mostly, her anger: Be patient!
She shook her head, allowing the officers to bundle her up the stairs.
Yeah. You've said that before. Easier said than done.
The officer threw her at the Commandant's feet. Blade struggled upright, looking at the man, distastefully, circling her shoulder to test the damage.
"Thank you, 249." The Commandant said, silkily, "Please return to your duties."
They all immediately backed out of the room. Good, obedient little soldiers.
Blade looked up at him, silently. Her body prepared itself. A well-known routine.
The burnt yellow eyes moved over hers. Then he shook his head, slowly, "I sent for you three hours ago. I sent a very good officer. A very obedient officer. Who has since disappeared. Am I to call off the search party?"
"I would if I were you." She replied, slowly, "Sir."
He looked at her for a moment, "You were ordered not to use weapons."
"I didn't use weapons." She said, coldly, "If you still think I'm restricted to blades and pistols then you are not nearly as clever as I thought."
He let out a low growl and turned his back, stemming his anger. Then he turned back to her, "I will make you obey!"
"I am obeying!" her voice was a low snarl, "It's not my problem if you don't seem to know your own parameters."
"Then you will obey me now." He took hold of her by the collar and dragged her round the corner of the platform, "I believe you know this man?"
He threw her forwards, and she just managed to keep her footing. Then her breath left her.
"Bob!" Jaina ran towards him, put her hands on his shoulders. He was lying on his side, completely still, eyes open. But alive. Thank God, he was alive. He was murmuring under his breath, something she couldn't quite hear. She shook him, gently, having had received no reaction, "Bob? Look at me. Can you look at me? Bob?"
He made no move, gave no sign of having heard her. He continued muttering.
She paused for a second, looking him over, and then got back to her feet, a deep anger burning hotly inside her, "What did you do to him."
He raised an eyebrow, "I? I did nothing. He did this to himself. Guard 268!" he added, sharply, moving over to him, "I order you to be quiet!"
Bob completely ignored him, like he had done her, and continued muttering. Obey. Obedience. Recruit. Guards. Heartbeat. Old Kingdom. What he was talking about, she had no idea. But it was Lucien. It was the collar. The collar had broken into his head.
"268! Shut your mouth!"
Again no response, continued whispering, muttering, his voice a low monotone, completely emotionless.
Blade looked at him. Her heart felt like it was splitting. She felt like something was rising in her stomach. Maybe she was going to be sick. She wouldn't be surprised. She couldn't watch this. She couldn't.
The Commandant gave a small, frustrated sigh and turned back to her, "Those who do not obey... can be made to. But those who cannot obey... are useless."
He pulled a sword out of a holster on his belt. She looked it over, automatically. Master Longsword. No longer the mythical blade he had once wielded.
He held it out to her, hilt first, "Take this sword."
"Why." She asked, immediately. She was shaking slightly.
"Take the sword." He repeated, his voice echoing danger.
She looked at him, her eyes locked onto their yellow counterparts. She was fully shaking now, she felt like her soul was shivering. She shook her head, slowly, "No."
Pain split through her head, her mind, her throat. She gritted her teeth, hard, letting no sound come from her mouth except shallow, back-in-the-throat gasps for breath. Activation One. First one of the day. How many would she survive? How many could she endure. Maybe... five? She was better at it now. Yeah, five, that sounded right. Four to go.
You need a blade. A blade is what you are. It feels good. It feels comfortable and right in your hand.
Avo, not again. Let it stop, let it stop. She was on the floor again, no memory of having fallen, hands tight around her head.
The collar lifted. She drew in breath after breath, slowing it down, calming herself.
A strong grip forced the sword's hilt into her hand, "Take it."
She didn't fight it, allowed her hold to slide instinctively onto the hilt.
She tested her grip. A sword, a blade, for the first time in more than two years. It felt good. It felt comfortable and right in her hand.
She took her eyes from the shining silver, looking back up at the Commandant. He looked at her for a second, and then nodded, slowly, "Good. That's better. Now." He gestured to the man with a swift jerk of his head, "He is useless. It is better he is taken care of now. I order you. End his pathetic life."
Now she was shaking. But for some reason the grip on her weapon stayed firm. She looked at him, her breathing rough, very rough, shaking her head, slowly. No. No. Not him. Avo. Please. Anyone but him.
He raised an eyebrow, "It's a mercy, 273." His voice was seductively soft, so gentle, so logical, "Think of it that way, if you will. Look at him. He's in pain. Put him out of his misery. Now."
A tear spilt down her cheek. She shook her head again, "No."
The softness dissolved. He nodded, thoughtfully, "Very well."
Two. The collar tightened. Pain. Pain struck again. This time even more intense than usual, tearing at her subconscious, slashing apart her memories, her resistance, all of it, all of her.
Obey! Kill him!
The collar worked through her mind, Lucien's voice demanding her surrender.
Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie. Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie.
She fought ferociously, forcing the collar back at every step, stopping it. But she was weakening. She could feel it leeching at her strength.
"This halfwit is beyond repair. But you I will salvage."
Salvage? The word echoed through her mind. Salvage. To save, to recover. To rescue something when it is so nearly lost. Did he think her nearly lost? Good. She was lost. She would prove it to him.
Another pulse from the collar. Three. She could feel darkness in her eyes now. Every part of her body was screaming in agony, her tortured mind clinging desperately to what she had. She wouldn't let go. She couldn't let go. No. She couldn't. She wouldn't let him.
"Go ahead. Fight it. Everyone has their breaking point. And I will find yours."
No. She couldn't let this happen. No. No.
Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie. Michael. Rose Marie. Mattie.
"Kill him!"
Obey! This man must die.
No. It squeezed. Four. Pain. All pain. No. Not Bob. Not him. Always so naïve, so sweet, constantly so interested, so concerned, wanting so much to help her fit in, help her obey, so naïve, broken so easily by the Commandant and his men, but his mind resisted. His mind resisted the collar. His mind tried to break through. But it couldn't break through. So it broke him.
She would no sooner kill him than kill herself.
Blade managed to get to her knees, fighting the collar all the way.
Michael.
Rose Marie.
Mattie.
Michael.
Rose Marie.
Mattie.
Her grip tightened on the hilt of the sword and, using the peak of her energy, she slashed out, catching the Commandant across the chest, blood immediately spurting down his body. He snarled, sharply stood back, giving a low hiss of anger and pain unlike any human sound, and then hit her hard across the face, throwing her back to the floor.
He put a hand up to his cut, testing it, and then shot her a disgusted glare, "So it's punishment you're after, is it? Then I'll oblige."
Another squeeze. Five. Pain. All she knew was pain. She couldn't see, couldn't breathe, couldn't think. This was so much worse, agony sawing through her mind, slicing into her, she could hear moans and pants, aggrieved hisses and strange, half-yells of pain and they were coming from her, that was her.
Stop his pain and end yours! Kill him! Give mercy to receive it!
She was blacking out, she could feel it, she could feel it in the back on her head, the clouding in her eyes, and she didn't have much longer, she was grasping out, trying to hold on, but it was too much, too much, she couldn't take much more, she couldn't-
The pain stopped. Her head collapsed back to the floor. She fought to keep her eyes open. She felt dizzy. So dizzy.
The Commandant was beside her, giving a low snarl, frustrated, angry, furious, "Fine!"
He turned to the man on the floor and threw out a hand. Lightning shocked through him, his body seizing as the blue power hit, jerking, shuddering, shaking his small frame, eyes falling shut, a strange murmur rising in his throat, until, finally, mercifully, the jerking stopped, and Bob collapsed back onto the floor, silent.
Tears trickled down Blade's face as she felt consciousness slip between her fingers.