Chapter 20: Allies and Actors

  The riots began in the summer of ’32. That’s the version we were taught. Massive, coordinated, and everywhere at once—an uprising that lasted nearly twenty years. They said it spread through something called the ‘internet,’ a relic of a less civilised time. It was purged, erased, like the rest of the story.

  They never told us what people were fighting for.

  What they were rising against.

  Only that peace was restored.

  And that peace has lasted ever since.

  Mandatory. Monitored. Manufactured.

  They called it a victory.

  I’m not so sure.

  ***

  I stared at Victor, he was taller than I had expected and good looking in that superficial, news-reporter kind of way. Perfect white teeth arching into a confident smile. A brow that didn’t wrinkle.

  My storm sense tingled. There was a battery inside the man’s eye. A cybernetic.

  “Well,” I said, straightening to my full height and matching his gaze. “Talk then.”

  He studied me like a bird, head tilted just slightly. I felt tiny pulses of electricity as the battery in his eye discharged and wondered what it was doing.

  Eyes flickered down at my green, ichor-drenched clothes. His lips curled just slightly, the expression gone so quickly it might have been my imagination. I knew it wasn’t.

  “You don’t want to… rest first?” He asked, eyes flickering to the bloody form of Tyler now propped up with an arm over Paddy and his sister’s shoulder.

  Paddy looked nervous as a cat in a dog kennel. He muttered something to Tammy that I didn’t catch. I tried to split my attention. Eyes darting. I felt like I couldn’t get my balance. Paddy and the Wallace siblings had been allies, but ever since Tyler had been injured and I’d gone berserk… Something had changed.

  Only Ariel stayed by my side, though as usual she was muttering to herself in French.

  Victor stood too close—hadn’t moved a muscle since stepping in to ‘save’ me.

  I took a step back. Victor followed. Staying close. Still smiling.

  A flash of light and a groan from behind let me know Tyler had used a red-ball to heal. We’d tried earlier, but their use on this stage was restricted to safe zones, whatever the hell those were.

  Victor’s eyes gleamed with practiced warmth. “I suspect first impressions of each other may have misled us,” he said, his tone measured and sonorous, each word carrying the weight of someone used to commanding attention. “But let’s set that aside. Humanity stands at a precipice—our peaceful way of life exploited, our compassion mistaken for weakness. In times like these, unity is our only shield. We stand together, not as leaders and followers, but as equals.” He placed a firm hand on my shoulder, his smile widening just enough to seem sincere. “And you—you’ve proven yourself. Not just as a survivor, but as a symbol of what even the least of us can achieve. You are living proof of our potential.”

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  The rapid discharge of electricity in his eye was like an itch. It pulsed with every word.

  The least of us? What the shit does that mean? I wondered. But didn’t say it aloud. Sometimes the best thing you can do is just listen.

  “What do you say, Allan. Will you work with me? With us? Will you be part of something great? Under my leadership Humanity will show its worth!”

  The discharge in his eye stopped, and I realised with a jolt that this speech was prewritten. He was using a damn teleprompter.

  It was all an act.

  The scuff of boot on cobble came from behind and I felt with my stormsense as Paddy, Tammy and Tyler approached. Did they have my back? Through the sense I could just dimly feel figures all around, behind corners and in buildings, just out of sight. Victor’s followers.

  Half a dozen. A dozen. Maybe more. All out of sight. All waiting.

  The last glimmers of blue and green had faded from the cavern. A baleful red glow bathing this underground world. It was hot and humid, sweat ran down my back. My armoured arm itched and it felt as though the black-veins writhed beneath my skin.

  I flicked a glance to Ariel. Her face was a storm-cloud as she jabbered away to nobody, words pouring out in a ceaseless hiss. I caught the odd word I understood, and it sounded like she might be talking to her mom.

  Yeah she wasn’t going to be helpful.

  Or was she?

  The kid had secrets.

  Victor had his eyes locked on me, unblinking.

  What would happen if I told him to fuck off? I wondered.

  This was a trap.

  I eyed the flaming skull.

  And I plastered a big fake-arse smile on my dial.

  “Sounds like a plan, big fella.” I clapped him on the shoulder, harder than was really necessary and the sound of it echoed from the cobbles and stone walls. “You’re the man.”

  He had flinched. I felt it.

  My grin stretched.

  His eyes narrowed.

  He didn’t trust me. The realisation almost made me laugh. That made two of us.

  I froze.

  Staring at my black-veined hand where it rested on Victor’s shoulder. One of my fingers lifted. Wriggled, undulating like a caterpillar trying to walk in a wave.

  I couldn’t feel it. Wouldn’t have known if I couldn’t see it.

  A second finger twitched. The veins pulsed, squirming like worms under my skin. My ring finger curled slowly, like it wasn’t mine at all.

  What the fuuuck?

  I forced out a loud laugh that sounded fake, even to my ears and whipped my arm behind my back, curling my fingers into a fist.

  Victor’s eyes narrowed. He knew something had happened, but didn’t know what.

  After a moment’s hesitation his politician’s smile was back, blue eyes twinkling with fake good humour.

  “Excellent! I knew you were a team player, Allan.” He reached out a hand to shake—thankfully it was his right, and I clasped it.

  I could feel the fingers of my left hand behind my back, wriggling against my palm. I clenched them tighter. Yeah. I had to wrap this up and figure out what the fuck was going on.

  “We have just received word from one of our scouting parties that they have found the first Wargame Vault. It’s low levelled, meant for adventurers that haven’t yet hit level five. I’d love to set you up with a team so that you can challenge it.

  “He’s got a team already, lad.” Came Paddy’s Irish brogue from my back.

  I felt a surge of relief.

  Victor’s gaze flicked past me, clearly weighing Paddy and the others as they stepped into the ring of red light.

  “Of course,” he said smoothly. “I only offer what I believe is best. But I understand the bonds of loyalty.”

  He didn’t mean it. I could hear it in the pause before the word loyalty, like it tasted wrong in his mouth.

  The grip of his handshake lingered just a second too long.

  Then he turned with the grace of a stage actor, calling something out to one of his aides and stepping away like we were done.

  But we weren’t.

  Because as soon as his back was turned, I felt it again. A ripple beneath my skin. A thrum in my skull. My left hand twitched, fingers curling and uncurling like they were testing their range.

  The others started to talk—about the Wargame Vault, about healing, about what came next—but their voices faded beneath the roar building in my ears.

  Realisation hit me like a hammer blow.

  My hand wasn’t just numb.

  It was waking up.