Chapter 2: The Neon-Wilds
1064 Words
The escape from Sector 7 was not a run; it was a mix of kinetic violence and shattering glasses.
Killian carried Elena through the venting shafts, his obsidian legs moving with a terrifying, piston-like efficiency that hadn't existed ten minutes ago. Every time his boots struck the metal grating, sparks flew, but not from friction, but from the raw, golden sovereign energy leaking from his newly repaired joints. Behind them, the shriek of the Original-Zero echoed through the vents, a sound of grinding metal that felt like it was peeling the skin off Elena’s back.
They burst through an exhaust port three hundred feet above the ground, plunging into the biting, toxic air of the Wasteland. Killian didn't hesitate. He plummeted toward the jagged ruins of the lower city, his obsidian arm slamming into the side of a rusted skyscraper to slow their descent. The glass shrieked as he carved a furrow down the building’s face, finally landing in a crouch amidst the neon-lit wreckage of the old world
Elena tumbled from his arms, her bare feet hitting the slick, oil-stained asphalt.
She gasped, her mercury eyes widened as she took in the world she had been designed to save. This wasn't the green Earth in her memory. The sky was a bruised, permanent violet, choked by the nano-clouds that the Council used to monitor the weather. Towering skyscrapers, now nothing but hollowed-out skeletons, were draped in bioluminescent moss that pulsed with a sickly, artificial green light.
"Where are the trees?" Elena whispered, her voice trembling as she looked at a twisted metal structure that vaguely resembled an oak.
"Trees are a luxury of the inner sanctums," Killian growled, his silver-gold eyes darting toward the horizon. He stood up, his massive frame casting a jagged shadow against a flickering holographic billboard for a defunct luxury brand. "Out here, things only grow if they’ve learned how to eat radiation and scrap metal. Welcome to the 23rd century, Root File."
Killian took a step toward her, but he stopped abruptly, a low hiss escaping his teeth. His obsidian prosthetic was glowing so brightly it was beginning to hum. The repair Elena had triggered in the vault was too efficient; it was over-clocking his nervous system. He felt stronger than a god, but he also felt like he was about to combust.
"You're shaking," Elena noticed, stepping toward him. Her sub-dermal circuits flared in response to his proximity, a soft silver light dancing beneath her skin.
"Don't," Killian warned, his voice a jagged rasp. "Your DNA... it’s like a drug to my system. If you touch me again while I’m this high on the source, I might not be able to stop my wolf from taking the rest of you."
He needed her to stay sane, but her very presence made him a parasitic threat to her life. He was a King who had spent his life being a vessel for the rot, and now he was a siphon for the sun.
Before Elena could respond, the violet sky was torn apart by the roar of Council Interceptors. Six sleek, black-winged craft descended from the clouds, their thermal scanners painting the ruins in a grid of red lasers.
"Target acquired," a synthesized voice boomed from the lead craft. "Deploy the Gravity-Snares."
"Get behind me!" Killian commanded. He didn't draw a blade this time. He reached deep into the source energy Elena had gifted him and slammed his obsidian hand into the ground.
He didn't just c***k the pavement; he hacked the city's local power grid. A massive surge of blue electricity erupted from the buried cables, channeled through his obsidian body and projected upward like a lightning strike. The lead Interceptor's shields flared and died as the EMP (Electromagnetic Pulse) fried its flight-brain. The craft spiraled out of control, crashing into a nearby ruins in a spectacular blossom of orange fire.
Elena watched the explosion, but she wasn't cheering. She was staring at her own hands. As Killian used the energy, she felt a phantom sensation in her own limbs. The mercury in her eyes began to spin rapidly, and for a split second, she didn't see the ruins, all she saw was the code behind them.
She saw the binary lines of the Gravity-Snares. She saw the weak points in the Council’s encryption.
"Killian, the third ship!" she shouted. "The starboard engine has a cooling leak! Hit the thermal vent!"
Killian didn't ask how she knew. He pivoted, his obsidian arm transforming into a long-range kinetic cannon, an evolution of his tech he hadn't known was possible. He fired a single, high-velocity bolt of shadow-energy. It struck the vent with surgical precision, causing the Interceptor to vaporize in a secondary explosion.
They sprinted into the mouth of a dark subway tunnel, the remaining ships losing their lock in the deep concrete. But as they paused in the gloom to catch their breath, Killian collapsed against the wall, his chest heaving.
The golden glow in his obsidian joints began to fade, replaced by a terrifying, liquid black.
"The decay..." Killian wheezed, his eyes turning back to a dull, pained silver. "It’s coming back. And it's coming back faster than before."
Elena knelt beside him, her hand hovering over his heart. "It’s because you used it. The energy I gave you... it wasn't a cure. It was a lease."
She looked deeper into the darkness of the tunnel, where a pair of red eyes, human-sized but glowing with a mechanical coldness that blinked into existence.
"And we just ran out of time," Elena whispered.
From the shadows stepped Marcus, but he wasn't wearing an inquisitor’s robe. He was wearing a Sovereign-Hunter Chassis, a suit of armor built from the bones of dead Lycans. In his hand, he held a vial of dark, swirling mercury that was identical to the color of Elena’s eyes.
"You think you saved her, Killian?" Marcus sneered, the metal plates of his jaw grinding together. "You just brought the Original's favorite meal right to his front door. That energy you’re burning? It’s not yours. It’s his. And he wants it back."
Marcus raised a heavy, silver-plated rifle and fired. But he didn't aim at Killian. He aimed at the ground beneath Elena, releasing a molecular-anchor that froze her in place.
"Run, King," Marcus laughed. "Let's see how long a wolf lasts without his battery."
- Writer
