A/N: Ain't gonna lie, this story's getting political pretty fast. Starting to be more action, less scenery as the characters themselves barely have the time to register their surroundings. Enjoy!


To sin by silence, when we should protest,
Makes cowards out of men. The human race
Has climbed on protest.

Had no voice been raised
Against injustice, ignorance and lust,
The Inquisition yet would serve the law,
And guillotines decide our least disputes.
The few who dare, must speak and speak again
To right the wrongs of many. Speech, thank God,
No vested power in this great day and land
Can gag or throttle. Press and voice may cry
Loud disapproval of existing ills,
May criticise oppression and condemn
The lawlessness of wealth-protecting laws
That let the children and child-bearers toil
To purchase ease for idle millionaires.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox – Protest


Indigo Premium Weaponry Headquarters

Kahler Tek's POV – Present

"Kahler-Tek, what the bloody hell do ya think you're doing? Get a move on!" Kahler-Diz shouts at me, waving his PKP Pecheneg machine gun with emphasis. I remain rooted to the spot as my mouth forms shapes, but I can't speak. I can't make any noise at all.

They've taken my voice again. They've taken my rights, my hope, my only form of escape. Then my shotgun arm raises itself into offensive stance, all seemingly on its own. But they never updated my hormone-blocker. Fear twists my intestines like a vicious python. They're going to make me do this the hard way.

I break into a run, bracing myself for impact as Kahler-Diz, Kahler-Yed and I smash through the heavy silver steel doors shoulder-first. I feel nothing. About ten security guards files out of a clean white hallway to the left, and before I can register my actions I've shot three of them clean between the eyes. Horror fills me as they convulse simultaneously before hitting the floor, stained with their blood splatters. Kahler-Mas and Kahler-Jex are going to start an even bigger war at this rate, I worry as Kahler-Yed sprints past me in an attempt to beat what must be some kind of time-lock.

Kahler-Diz moves to follow him, but I grip his arm as hard as I can and pull him backwards. "Kahler-Tek-" he begins, but I cut him off. "Kahler-Diz, what is wrong with you?Am I the only person in our squad who's noticed that we're raiding the company that supplies weapons to us?" I scream at him over the gunshots. He rolls his eyes.

"Oh catch up, ya great muffin-head. This is the Civil Revolution of Kahler. Didn't you listen during the briefing?"

"The – what? I wasn't at the briefing! If you may recall, I was mortally wounded and in captivity. I only just got out of the Centre's med wing!"

"Good God, Kahler-Tek, we don't have time for this! Just shoot anything that moves! I'll explain later."

Before I can reply, my legs start to burn as they push away at the polished marble tiles and I'm flying through the air like some kind of less-than-graceful missile. My arms automatically come up to protect my face from the approaching ground as I soar through the tiny trapdoor to the Indigo family's housing quarters in an arc of intrusion.

A hugely built man in grey uniform with a bald head and the signature Kahler facial tattoos emerges from a room to the left, holding the same gun that my arm is made up of. I open my mouth to explain that none of this is me, that I'm being controlled, but he is having none of it, and I find myself staring at the wrong end of the crosshairs.

Never, in my captivity, in my factory-like repairs, in my life have I felt so vulnerable. I remain silent as tears well up in my real eye and my bionic one locks target on the CEO of Indigo Premium Weaponry and father of five sons.

"Target determined," I say helplessly as the decimation beam in my arm charges up, and realising he is about to die, he drops his weapon.

"No, no, no! Soldier, you can't, I'm-"

Zap.

"Target destroyed."

A thin blanket of ash descends an invisible staircase of air, his remains floating peacefully like autumn leaves from their tree. The tree that was our ally, our friend behind the scenes that helped us in the war. No longer.

Tears fall freely now, compromising my emotionless mask. It seems that all the colours have mixed. White is no longer free from the cruel clutches of black and the red of blood has tainted every single hue beneath these God-forsaken skies. I have taken the life of another innocent.

The last, I swear it. I will not kill for anyone; not for myself or any Kahler. I will leave the Centre and my internship – research and my career be damned. I will leave this life. I will love my wife and my son, my beautiful, healthy son. I will.