Year 2083, Military Base Munich

Brilliant sunshine. A blue, cloudless sky. A canopy of leaves above her, gently dancing in the wind. A flower meadow surrounding her. A perfect illusion. Almost perfect.

She let her fingers brush over what allegedly looked like fresh grass, tried to remember how the soft culms should feel like, how a cool breeze on her skin would feel like on a warm summer day. Three years. She couldn’t believe it had already been three years since she had been on the surface for the last time.

Not in her most horrid nightmares would she have ever dreamed that the war would one day take on such a disastrous dimension.

War was something that happened in Syria, in Afghanistan, in some poor African countries – but not in the democratic western world! Naïve as she was back then, she had assumed the placement in these underground bunkers would only be a temporary precaution and the United Nations would soon come to an agreement. Scarce resources, climate change, technological and medical supremacy … All those problems weren’t new, were they?

Instead, one country after another had declared war until the whole world had been turned into a battlefield.

Her watch started to vibrate. Quarter to eight, time for work. The projection collapsed, revealing a tiny room with bare white walls. Sighing she pushed herself off the bed, tucked her white sheath dress in place, grabbed her headset and her tablet from the nightstand, and headed towards her unusual protégées who spend their nights in the adjoining chamber. With the help of her tablet, she deactivated the seven capsules that were mounted to the wall. They opened, each puffing out a thick cloud of steam before seven small bodies came into view. Every child was dressed in a light blue shirt and trousers of the same color. The children opened their eyes in unison and stepped out of their capsules, their gazes locked on their warden. Although she had most of them in her care ever since their birth, she knew she would never get used to their sight: The radiant irises in the most striking shades of the rainbow, those icy features devoid of any emotion and this almost aerial way of moving. They truly were extraordinary creatures, those Destructors. Breathtakingly beautiful – and absolutely lethal. But something was wrong today. Six. There were only six of them. Nausea roiled in her stomach. Rain was missing. 

She quickly accessed profile-overview of the group on her tablet. Rains status was set on Evaluation instead of Morning exercise. Her blood chilled. If Rain was evaluated it meant they were considering sending him out into the field, but the boy ranged among the age group of five- to ten. She knew their situation had gotten considerably worse over the last months, knew that the number of their forces was rapidly spiraling downwards, but sending a freaking child out there … One of her children …

“Good morning, Jenni”, a familiar female voice suddenly yanked her out of her thoughts.

“Oh, ’morning Manu”, she greeted her colleague who had a small group of children neatly lined up behind her as well. “Wait a sec!”

Manu halted and so did the seven children behind her.

“Could you do me a favor and take my group to the gym with you?”

The other woman blinked in surprise before she nodded.

“Yeah, sure. Is everything alright?”, Manu wondered.

“I think there is a problem with one of the capsules. I just want to make sure it’s taken care of as soon as possible”, she lied. Should someone suspect her of actually caring for her children she could kiss her job as caretaker goodbye. Destructors were created to fight. They were conscienceless beings, unable to feel or empathize, a weapon in the body of a human, and that’s how they were supposed to be treated.

Since the group was taken care of, she headed down to the thirteenth floor where the Destructors were being fine-tuned for fieldwork. She had never been down there herself, but she had heard countless bone-chilling stories of the place.

“They let ’em fight until one of them loses consciousness to analyze their abilities and improve ’em. Heard that can take hours 'cause those Destructors are tough bastards. Smaller wounds heal almost immediately and I’ve heard even severed limbs grow back in mere days”, one of her colleagues had told her once. What had been scarier than his words however was how casually, almost bored he had sounded. Blood, torture, corpses, … Nowadays, people talked about those awful things as casually as they talked about what they had for breakfast. The war took it's gruesome toll on everyone, and even down here in the bunker, there was no escaping the horrors and suffering of a world ruled by violence, a world where benevolence had long become an alien concept.

The sad truth was no one dared to hope for a peaceful outcome anymore. At this point, it was all about killing or being killed. Yet her stomach twisted at the thought of that little, silver-haired boy with eyes of a gorgeous ocean blue who was about to be sent into certain death before ever having the chance to live.

Rain is strong, she tried to calm herself. If somebody can make it, it’s him!

The moment she stepped out of the elevator two soldiers approached her, their gazes wary and skeptical.

“Can I help you?”, the one standing closest to her boomed, arms tightly crossed over his bully chest.

“I am Jennifer Schwarz, one of the caretakers from floor five”, she introduced herself, trying to sound confident. “Last night one of my Destructors was taken without prior notice. According to his file, he was pulled in for Evaluation. I came to make sure the status update is valid. We wouldn’t want one of those …”, she hesitated for a second, struggling to bring herself to say the word that was laying on the tip of her tongue, “… monsters roaming about the corridors without oversight, do we?”

The expression of the soldier softened as he gave her a sympathetic nod.

“I apologize for the default of my colleagues. Work is pilling up and a lot of us are doing double shifts.”

“It’s a challenging time for all of us”, she agreed, her voice thick with sadness.

“As far as I know, only three Evaluations were being conducted tonight, all in section B. Just follow this corridor and turn left on the second corner”, the soldier instructed.

Although it was early morning the hallways were bustling with soldiers in military green or black uniforms and scientists with fluttering white robes. To avoid attracting unpleasant attention again she tried to create the impression of being in a hurry just like everyone else. It also gave those who rushed past her less time to get suspicious.

She ended up in front of a wall with a giant iron double door that had the words Sector B imprinted on them in black letters. The arenas had to be on the other side.

Luckily, she was given no time to wonder about her next steps because the doors swung open just seconds after her arrival, revealing a squad of high-ranking soldiers accompanied by a handful of scientists – a blood-drenched Rain in their midst. Her pulse hammered until she realized he seemed uninjured; his expression unperturbed as always. Still, she had to fight the urge to run up to the little boy, to make sure beyond doubt he was as well as he appeared to be.

“… make all the necessary arrangements! I want the Destructor on the battlefield before lunch!”, barked the commander in charge before his dark eyes suddenly settled on her.

“I am the caretaker of the Destructor”, she hurried to introduce herself, followed by a nervous gulp. What if she really got fired and send back to the surface? Unfortunately, it was too late for such qualms now. “I wasn’t informed of the Evaluation.”

The commander flashed her a sardonic grin that made the tiny hairs on her arms stand up. He approached her until only a mere step separated them.

"Don’t worry, darling, won’t happen again. Starting today the Destructor is under my supervision.”

“He … he passed?”, she pressed even if the answer was obvious. She just couldn't help herself.

The cold gaze of the soldier bored into her.

“Don't tell me you worry about that little mutant!”, he spat, voice full of despise.

“About as much as I worry for the sole of my shoe”, she tried to play it cool while silently apologizing to the small boy she had known all his life. “I just find it hard to imagine we will impress anyone by sending a six-year-old out there. We might as well sign our capitulation while we are at it.”

The commander answered with a deep, thunderous chuckle.

“You have guts, gotta give you that. But don’t trouble your pretty little head with matters that don’t concern you.” He gave her shoulder a fatherly pat. “I’ve never come across such a fine exemplar and I have no doubt the Destructor will serve us well despite his young age.”

As if to undermine his statement two medics stormed out of the doors with a stretcher that held a big, bloody chunk of flesh. Only after taking a closer look did she realize what she was looking at was actually a human body. Bile rose in her throat. What on earth was going on behind those doors?

“Fantastic, isn’t it?”

The eyes of the commander sparkled with excitement. Yeah, not exactly the word she would have used … 

“His two previous opponents were in the same state when he was fished with them, and all three were matured exemplars.”

“Remarkable”, she forced herself to agree.

She took a deep breath as she returned her gaze to the little Rain and forced a smile on her lips.

“I always knew he was a special one.”

Their eyes met and she hoped he understood the underlying meaning of that sentence.

Goodbye. Forgive me.

Just when she had turned around ready to leave, a deafening ringing echoed through the hallways and all emergency lights flashed red.

“Don’t move, Destructor, or we shoot!”, the soldiers behind her barked, accompanied by the sound of safety catches being released. A canon of shocked gasps and terrified screams followed, and by the time she had turned back again, it was already over. The whole squad of highly-ranked and strongly armed soldiers who had surrounded Rain just a second ago was now on the floor, blood and intestines covered the motionless bodies and the white walls of the corridor.

A strange calmness took possession of her as she looked down into eyes of a blue so clear and bright and hauntingly beautiful it was impossible to describe, knowing it was the last thing she would ever see.

Year 2387, borderland to Desert P-KV51

Even though the Desert was still kilometers away, the abominable stench of decay that even the protective barrier couldn’t contain already found his way to Rain. It once must have been a human settlement. The great war might have taken place three centuries ago, but that didn’t hold any meaning at these strange places. The Deserts, highly biological and radioactive contaminated territories, made their own rules. Some seemed frozen in time, forever caught in the turmoil of war: everywhere burning houses and columns of smoke rising into the sky, broken cars and deformed corpses lining the streets, the air filled with the echoes of screams and gunfire and destruction. Others looked so alien one might think they couldn’t be off this earth: outlandish plants, mutated animals, odd rocks – nothing that gave any hints on what the piece of land might have looked like before the whole world got caught in the brutal clutches of the great war. Yet they all had one thing in common: They were absolutely lethal. If his kind hadn’t cut the Deserts off from the rest of the world by erecting specially designed protective barriers there would be no human life on this planet anymore, that was beyond question.

Most of the Deserts were surrounded by a thick forest unless they were situated beside natural borders such as mountains or rivers. Not only did these places give off an ominous feel, they were also living mementos of the great war that had cost humankind the supremacy over the earth. Therefore, it seemed only logical humans avoided getting close to them. Rain would have done the same.

As soon as he reached the edge of the vast woodlands that separated this particular Desert from the closest Areals he brought his jet to a halt midair to get a general view of the contaminated territory. It was a former human settlement frozen in time, just as he had predicted.

Rain landed his jet beside the Desert, opened the trunk where he stored his equipment for assignments like this, and meticulously put on layer after layer of his protective suit. Afterward, he used the organizer around his wrist to penetrate the protective barrier.

His destination wasn’t far from the barrier. Pinpointing the location of the collapsed rebel hideout from the air hadn’t been difficult. In contrast to the other buildings damaged and destroyed by the war, it was obvious that here the demolition hadn’t been caused by something smashing into the houses from above. Instead, it looked like the earth itself had opened its gates and dragged a couple of buildings under.

With the help of his organizer, he quickly scanned the crater and send the data to the Protector-HQ in the City. Then he carefully climbed down and effortlessly dug his way through the rubble, lifting huge wall chunks as easily as he would a glass of water until he uncovered an opening to an underground laboratory. The facility had been built about ten meters below the surface which meant only three meters separated the premises from the protective barrier that had been erected under the Desert – and that had been torn apart by a powerful explosion from within this laboratory, leaving a gaping hole in it. The security system of the City might have registered the damage within seconds and automatically initiated a self-repair process, but a second was all it took for the highly poisonous gases of the Deserts to slip their invisible prison walls and end the lives of thousands. The whole facility would have to be closed off as well, it was now a part of this Desert. But his only job was to assess the situation and retrieve evidence as long as there still was something to retrieve. Others would do the cleaning.

Rain entered the premise and examined the corpse closest to him, a scientist in a white gown that had collapsed while at work. The man had a pained expression on his face, his glassy eyes wide open. A fine stream of blood ran out of his mouth and eyes, the gloved hands unnaturally cramped, a shattered test tube lay beside one of them. Those who had survived the explosion had died within seconds nonetheless, suffocated by the lethal toxins of the Desert.

He walked up to a female scientist who sat lifeless in front of a black computer screen, grabbed her arm to carelessly toss the corpse aside and took her seat. All attempts to get the computer started or to download data with the help of his organizer failed, which didn’t come as a surprise. All electronics had probably a build-in self-destruct mechanism that was set to activate in cases like this so the treacherous files couldn’t fall into the hands of the enemy. Still, he’d had to try. For the same reason, he searched the lab for any handwritten notes. Nothing. Way too risky should the facility ever be discovered by one of his kind. Those humans had obviously done everything by the book, the results of their research out of his reach if not at all out of existence. The contents of the test tubes were of no value thanks to the contaminated air who had long altered the substances in ways impossible to trace back or reverse. The only thing he could do now was to document the layout of the facility, so he activated the camera built into his organizer and began to film all accessible rooms.

When Rain had finished his tour, he sent the video to the Protector-HQ accompanied by a short, spoken summary of the scene. It had been only a small rebel camp, with about two hundred people living and working here at most.

Already on his way out and back to the surface it was only by sheer luck that he spotted a small tip of paper peeking out of the fisted hand of an elderly man who had collapsed in a hallway. Rain carefully retrieved what turned out to be the photo of a young human female. She looked familiar and it didn’t take him long to recall where he had seen here: A flight over Areal X-749 thirteen years ago. Shoulder length curly hazelnut hair, green serious eyes, and a mouth stretched into a friendly smile as she softly talked to the little girl in her arms who was a carbon copy of her. The woman had looked older than in the picture but he had no doubt it had been her. Maybe his work here hadn’t been in vain after all. Stupid, sentimental old man! He should have known better than to keep something so private with him!

Areal X-749

The village looked exactly as he remembered it: A small gathering of spartan wooden huts, mainly inhabited by poor farmers who had probably never heard of words like electricity or engine. Most human settlements in the Areals – territories outside of the big modern Cities most of his kind called their home – entertained such an underdeveloped lifestyle. Only a handful of the bigger settlements close to the Cities used by his people as trading hubs for agricultural products were allowed to use a carefully selected range of technologies.

Panicked screams filled the air after the first human had spotted his jet in the sky. There were only three reasons a Destructor would seek out such a far-off village: He was searching for slaves, he was searching for rebels – or he had gone rogue and was on a rampage. Either way, the appearance of a Destructor meant something unpleasant was about to happen, at least to one of them.

The villagers hurriedly gathered in the middle of their settlement and went down on their knees to show their unconditional submission as they waited for his jet to land. The young and the elderly were forced down as well. A wise move. They knew running was useless – no human could outrun a Destructor. Such an action would have also been considered suspicious and disrespectful, it basically equaled sentencing oneself to death. Destructors knew no mercy, and they never forgave. A human’s life meant nothing to his kind. But they never resorted to violence without motive, it was always used as a means to an end. After all, they weren’t impulsive, emotional humans, they were creatures of cold rationality.

Rain exited his jet and let his gaze wander over the small crowd of gathered villagers crouched down at his feet. The woman wasn’t among them.

“Who is the chief of this village?”, he demanded to know, the words arctic and businesslike.

“I am, honorable Destructor”, the shaky voice of a middle-aged man kneeling to his left declared, his head still bend down to show complete surrender.

The human let out a shocked gasp when Rain abruptly appeared in front of him.

“Look at me!”, he briskly ordered, presenting the meanwhile securely sealed up photo he had taken from the dead rebel.

“Where is this woman?”



...****************...

Bathing in the warm rays of the morning sun the ruins of the ancient city, overgrown with moss, ferns, and dense undergrowth, lay in a peaceful slumber. A delicate brown bird landed on a particularly bulky root of a tree that melted with the front wall of the house in its back, making it seem like both of them had always belonged together. The sight of the bird took Charlotte by surprise and she almost fell headfirst into the river she was drinking from.

In the Deserts – or at least the parts of them that were visible through the thin see-through blueish protective barrier surrounding them – spotting any sign of life was more than a rare thing. Technically there shouldn’t be anything alive on those poisonous lands at all, but a few organisms had managed to adjust to their unusual surroundings, ending up as grotesque depictions of their former selves in the end. Should one of these horrid creatures ever break through the invisible wall … A shudder went down her spine and she quickly abandoned the terrifying thought. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to turn away from the innocently looking animal.

The bird curiously hopped around, searching for worms and insects. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary about this picture, the bird just a bird like any other, but when it found what it had been searching for, the darkness that lurked under its skin broke free, revealing the true nature of this petrifying creature. Within the blink of an eye, the bird snatched at a giant snake who had suddenly shot out behind it, probably seeing an easy prey in the much smaller animal – a fatal miscalculation. A row of razor-sharp, yellow teeth protruded from the bird’s beak, cutting through the thick skin of the snake like butter and tearing it in two in one fast bite, while its eyes turned a horrifying bloodthirsty red. Afterward, the bird happily ate away at the warm remains of its victim.

Charlotte pressed the delicate silver cross she always wore around her neck against her hammering heart, the river separating her from the Desert suddenly seeming not nearly deep and wide enough. Merciful Lord in heaven, not even in her most petrifying nightmare could she have ever dreamed up such evil dressed in a sheep’s skin!

Thankfully Abbaco chose that moment to nudge her shoulder, turning her attention away from the chilling sight. The bulky black stallion stamped from one hoof to the other and panted impatiently.

“You are right, we should head home.”

Charlotte rose to her feet, straightened her skirt, and patted Abbaco’s massive neck.

“I will miss our trips”, she sighed.

Heart heavy she put her stallion to a trot, heading back towards their village. In two days’ time, she would turn seventeen and be married off to Philip, the son of the village chief. Going out for a ride just for fun, unaccompanied at that, was unbecoming of a married woman and Philip would never tolerate such behavior. The head of every man is Christ, the head of a wife is her husband, the scriptures said. Therefore, as her wedded husband he would also be her official guardian, could command her as he saw fit, and he wanted to see her by the side of his mother. She would be expected to help her mother-in-law tend to the house, and once Philip and she had children she would be responsible for their upbringing and care. Nobody would take an interest in her own desires and wishes anymore, not like her free-spirited grandfather had done.

Charlotte’s father had left this earth even before she had been born, and when she was six her mother had fallen terminally ill. With both parents gone she had been taken in and raised by her maternal grandfather until his death three years ago. She had prayed by his bedside all night long, desperately pleaded to the heavens to grant them more time.

“Please, almighty Lord, bestow your endless grace upon my grandfather and spare him this one time! He is the only family I have left! I am not ready to be wedded yet, I am so scared …”

Just having turned fourteen, she had been of marriageable age by then. With no male guardian to take care of her anymore and the son of the village chief having his eyes on her for as long as she could think, they would make her enter into matrimony before the end of the month, of this, she’d had no doubt.

In the end, it hadn’t been god who had answered her prayers, however, but her grandfather himself. In the early morning hours as he drew his last breaths all elders and the priest of their village had gathered around his deathbed to bid their farewells, hear his last confession and grant him one last wish – a custom to ensure a peaceful passing so nothing may hinder the soul’s ascension to paradise. Usually, the wish was used to bless the upcoming birth or marriage of a child or grandchild. In her case, though, the opposite had been the case.

“Philip and … Charlie …”, her grandfather wheezed, every breath heavier than the last one. “… don’t let them marry …”

A bad cough rattled his sickly body as everyone gasped in shock.

“… not until she … becomes of age. They …”

Another cough. Charlotte, still kneeling at his side, clutched his cold hand tighter, her tears turning everything around her into a blur.

“… they shall not be wedded … until her seventeenth birthday.”

His eyes locked with those of his granddaughter one last time. Noting the grateful shimmer lying in those green depths, his lips curled into a smile and his gaze became glossy all of a sudden. He was gone.

The whole village had been distraught over this outrageous, downright absurd last wish. But to Charlotte those words had been the most precious last gift he could have given her, showing her how much she had been loved and treasured all her life.

Eventually, the elders had teeth-gnashingly arrived at the conclusion that the deceased’s wish – no matter how ridiculous – was to be respected. It was decided Charlotte was to move in with the old Owens couple who had no children of their own until her marriage. The two appreciated her helping hands and repaid her for her diligence by granting her liberties the other young woman in the village could only dream of. But those carefree days would come to an end soon.

Charlotte shook her head, trying to drive away those dark thoughts.

Pull yourself together, Charlie! You have absolutely no reason to complain! You are about to marry into an honorable, respected family, and you know your groom since childhood. Philip is a decent man, you should consider yourself lucky!

She took a deep breath and decided to enjoy the rest of the ride as much as she could.

As the forest cleared and the village was almost in sight, Abbaco suddenly became restless and firmly refused to take another step forward. Instead, he nervously paced from one foot to the other and neighed anxiously.

“Shhh, big boy, everything is alright!”, she tried to calm the stallion down.

Frowning Charlotte scanned her surroundings. She couldn’t see or hear anything unusual, nothing out of the ordinary that could explain the strange behavior of the stallion. Yet Abbaco got more panicky by the minute, making it harder and harder for her to control him until he reared and Charlotte couldn’t hold on to him anymore.

Stricken with pain she landed on the hard forest floor. She knew she had to move or she would be crushed under Abbacos sturdy hooves, but she was too weak and slow and the stallion already descending. In the distance, she vaguely spotted a shadow drawing closer with inhuman speed.

Maybe it’s the angel of death, coming to get me, Charlotte thought as her vision started to fade.

5th City, a couple of hours later 

When Charlotte regained consciousness, she was still laying on the floor, but she wasn’t in the woods anymore. Instead, she found herself in a place full of light, vibrant colors, and pleasant odors. The dirty ground had been replaced by an ocean of smooth, shiny black gemstone and everything around her was so bright as if illuminated by the summer sun. Yet as she looked up it wasn’t to find a sunny sky but a blindingly white ceiling. Charlotte instinctively raised her hands to cover her eyes – and found them shackled together at the wrist. Too overwhelmed by her otherworldly surroundings she belatedly realized her ankles had met the same fate, and she was gagged.

With her bound hands, she slowly pushed herself into an upright position. The room she had been brought to was huge, about the same size as the whole first floor of the Owens’ house – which was by no means a small one. Yet despite a massive wooden desk it held nothing but two big, brick-shaped coal pools along both sides of the room, each harboring a long dancing flame.

“ … were convinced her mother was the bastard of a merchant from their village. He died three years ago.”

A male voice, so cold and emotionless it made the small hairs on her arms stand up.

The owner of the voice stood a few steps away from her in front of the desk. Thick silver hair whirled around his head as if tussled by a storm. Never before had she met someone with hair like this. The man wore a strange, brown leather jacket that barely reached his hips with a black hood attached to it. He was talking to someone on the other side, someone she couldn’t see from her crouched down position.

“It seems the rebel was determined to raise her daughter away from her people. Therefore, it’s unlikely she knows more than the other villagers”, the silver-haired stranger concluded.

A few seconds of silence.

“The girl’s resemblance to her might be of use to us one day. Take her in as your slave so she will be available to us should the need arise.”

Another male voice declared, sounding as arctic as its counterpart.

Slave? A dark suspicion took root in her head. The strange hair, the frosty voices, a room unlike anything she had ever seen before – the two men had to be Destructors! It was common knowledge that they held human slaves in their Cities, and rumor had it they occasionally kidnapped young villagers from the Areals for this purpose. But from what Charlotte had gathered since she had woken up her abduction wasn’t an ordinary one.

Rebel. They had called her mother a rebel. How they could have come to believe such an absurd thing, she had not the slightest idea. Her parents had been ordinary farmers, and the only thing she knew about the rebels was that she was never to talk to or even speculate about those heathens.

“We, who were graced by our merciful Lord with the dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over the livestock and over all the earth, have failed him a thousandfold.”

Reverent silent filled the small church. Everyone looked up at the pastor on his pulpit passionately reciting his sermon. It was the same one he gave every year when he held the communion for the seven-year-olds of their village, welcoming them into their community of faith.

“Blinded by greed and pride we almost destroyed this most precious gift of our Lord instead of holding dear what was ours to protect and nourish. But ever forgiving, our great Lord showered us with mercy yet once more by turning the very weapons set to destroy all of his creation into his heavenly soldiers. And thus, touched by his holy light, humankind’s most monstrous creation was transformed to become its savior instead. Now, under the watchful eyes of our Lord’s soldiers, we shall start anew until the day we shall once more be declared guardians of this earth.”

The pastor took a deep breath.

“Still, there are those who refuse to see what so clearly lies before all of us. They are not big in number, but the shadow they cast upon all of us is deadlier than any Desert.”

Consensual, frightened whispers filled the hall.

“Rebels, they call them.” The Pastor all but spat the word. “Filled with pride those heretics refuse to accept defeat to this day. They stubbornly continue to walk the path of their beloved science, unwilling to repent for the grave sins our ancestors committed. Even worse, they seek the downfall of those the Lord himself entrusted to tend to earth until we, his children, are done paying our bitter penance and shall be worthy of his trust again. So, I beseech you, my dear brothers and sisters, shall you be so unfortunate as to ever cross paths with those heathens, turn away as fast as your feet may carry you. And shall that encounter only be one of the mind, see it as the serpents apple it is and don’t let the treacherous snake charm you into taking a bite. For a rebel’s soul is beyond redemption, but yours is not.”

 “I don’t need a slave”, the silver-haired Destructor calmly objected, snapping her out of the memory.

“Then let me specify: You will hold the girl captive as a prisoner of war.”

“If so, the colosseum is where the human should be taken, not an ordinary household.”

“The colosseum is not meant to serve as a long-term accommodation of any kind. Besides if we want to use the girl as bait at any point, she has to look the part”, the other Destructor countered once more. “I will send for a tech to collar her. He’ll be awaiting you at your door. The slave quarter in your apartment is being stocked with clothes and food as we speak. Anything else?”

“No”, the silver-haired Destructor briskly replied, apparently out of arguments.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stop as he turned around to face her. Never before had she seen such breathtaking blue eyes, such refined features, such unblemished skin. He looked young, probably around twenty.

“They look like us, and yet they couldn’t be any more different. Everything about them seems flawless, but their expressions are devoid of any emotion, devoid of any kindness and warmth like a statue come to life”, her grandfather had once described his first and – as he had strongly empathized – fortunately only encounter with one of these creatures. What had been unfathomable to her back then was now a scary reality. But the Destructor didn’t give her much time to marvel at his appearance. He swiftly bent down, grabbed her right upper arm, and roughly yanked her to her feet before throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

Charlotte didn’t resist, scared of what they might do to her if she didn’t cooperate with whatever they had in store for her. The Destructors might guard the earth according to the Lord’s will but for humans they had no compassion whatsoever. She’d heard countless horrifying stories of villagers who had defied a Destructor, and all of them had a bloody and painful ending.

“Don’t forget we might need her someday”, the other Destructor behind the desk dryly reminded. His blonde hair was neatly brushed back, his eyes dark as the night, his lips not so full compared to his brethren and his chin chiseled. He also looked older, in his mid-thirties maybe. He wore a tight grey jacket whose button border ran in a light circle up to the right sight of his black collar. His hand flew over something that reminded her of the blue see-through protective barriers around the Deserts – the difference being this was only as big as a map and had text and pictures on it. 

“I won’t.” 

Charlotte was carried out of the room into a bright hallway that ended in a small chamber with silver walls. She watched in amazement as the doors miraculously closed themselves behind them, doors that had neither handle nor lock attached to them. Suddenly a weird feeling made her stomach turn, but just seconds later it was gone. The doors opened up and they stepped out into the same white hallway again – or that’s what she thought at first. As Charlotte took a closer look, she noted that the arrangement of the doors was slightly different from before.

Could it be that the small room somehow transported us to another level of the house?, she wondered. Maybe they moved it with divine power …

The next room she was brought into was even more astonishing than the previous ones. From everywhere around sounded the soft gurgle of water, as if they were close to a stream. She was just about to search for the source of the noise when the Destructor lifted her off his shoulders and carelessly dropped her on the floor. Charlotte quickly propped herself in an upright position and let her gaze wander, tried to orientate herself.

This room was double the size of the one with pools of fire. To her right, a wall was missing and had been entirely replaced by the finest glass Charlotte had ever seen. It offered the most gorgeous view of a blue sky sprinkled with a white cloud here and there. All that could be seen so vibrant as if the glass wasn’t even there. The center of the room was occupied with a comfortable looking seating area that was surrounded by a stream of crystal-clear water embedded into the light grey-brown polished gemstone floor. It wasn’t the only source of water. Parts of the existing walls were covered with huge square floor-to-ceiling pieces of rough dark stone that ended in a small stream as well, water continuously flowing down the stones. The water seemed to appear out of nowhere and disappeared as miraculously afterward, the streams never overflowing. To her left, there was a long slim pool filled with small stones that had a big glass wall sitting in the middle of it which almost touched the ceiling, a thin stream of water flowing down from there as well and preventing her from making out what was behind.

“Carry out your duties, and do so in a timely manner”, the Destructor ordered.

Charlotte followed the inhuman blue eyes of her captor to find a man coming at them. It was painfully obvious he was no Destructor. The body of a Destructor didn’t age far beyond thirty, and the features of this man were raddled, his brown hair already showing grey strands. The man respectfully bowed down before her abductor. He wore a simple sleeveless jacket on top of a long-sleeved shirt combined with a pair of loose sitting trousers – all in the same shade of grey. The material was clearly of a much lower quality than what the Destructor was wearing. Around his neck, the man had a strange iron ring that reminded her of a dog’s collar. He must be a human slave.

“Yes, honorable Destructor”, the man hurriedly replied.

“I will know once you are done and take it upon myself to inform her of her obligations.”

“As you wish, esteemed Destructor!”

While her captor left the room the slave bend down to her and examined her neck.

“Hm … looks a 12.5”, he murmured to himself.

The slave opened a strange square bag that looked like it was made of a similar material like iron, pulled out a measuring tape, and tightly wound it around her neck.

“12.5 inches, as I thought.”

He rummaged in his bag again, not sparing her a single glance. That she had been gagged and shackled didn’t seem to impact on him the slightest bit.

Charlotte moaned in her gag and held up her firmly bound wrists to get his attention. The rope was painfully cutting in her flesh and her fingers already started to get numb. The man continued to deliberately ignore her nonetheless. Seconds later he held an iron ring in his hands, the same kind he wore. Tears sprang to her eyes as she finally allowed herself to accept what the slave was about to do to her: Turn her into a slave as well by putting an iron collar around her neck. She instinctively knew once that horrid thing was secured around her neck she was lost, her peaceful life in the village was lost – forever.  

Something inside of her snapped at this awful realization and she mustered up the last bit of courage left in her to put up a fight. The ropes didn’t give her much ample scope, however, and the man was stronger than he looked. With a few trained movements, he had her collared within mere seconds. Charlotte immediately lunged at the iron that was coldly pressed against her skin now, desperately tried to remove it, but the collar didn’t budge. Suddenly the iron heated up and a bolt of pain shot through her, taking her consciousness with it. 

...****************...

Rain contemptuously eyed the human female that lay curled up at his feet. Letting their selfishness and greed for power get the best of them those weak creatures had driven the world into a futile war that had almost ended up irrevocably destroying this planet. Yet some of them still had the audacity to call his people monsters solely based on their inability to feel emotions. Ironic considering that this very condition was why a Destructor would never deliberately hurt another being without ice-cold logic dictating there was no other way than to do so. Being emotionless didn’t equal being conscienceless, something those narrow-minded humans would probably never understand.

Blinking the human slowly regained consciousness. As soon as the girl realized who was towering over her she winced and instinctively backed away from him until she was pressed against the wall of the small servants’ quarters. Her heart hammered in a rapid beat, her hazel eyes wide with fear.

“From now on you are my slave and this is your room”, he explained. “You are not permitted to leave it unless I order you to. You will be brought nourishment twice a day. Clothes befitting a female slave are in the cupboard to your left.”

He pointed at the only furniture in the room besides the bed.

“The collar around your neck sends a signal, so I will always know where you are. Running away would be pointless. When we will be forced to converse with one another you will address me as honorable Destructor or Master. Any disobedience will be punished immediately according to the severity of your misconduct. Is that understood?”

The slave nodded.

“Y-yes … Master.”

“Good.”

Though the girl didnt seem to be the rebellious type, Rain would still monitor her closely. Humans couldnt be trusted. But his father was right, maybe the rebel offspring could be of use to them one day. And now she was his responsibility if he liked it or not.

When he headed out of the room his organizer vibrated. In Area C a Red-Zoner had locked himself in his apartment and requested all other residents via the City Net to evacuate the building. A rational action that showed he hadnt fallen into complete madness at this point, that there was still hope for him. After starting his jet Rain ordered the virtual assistant to connect him with the Asylum.

“Prepare for the arrival of a critical patient”, he instructed the nurse on the other end of the line.

“We will be ready”, the woman answered.

Should the other Destructor make it to the Asylum alive, his chances to fully recover from the mental breakdown would be twenty-six percent. It wasnt much, but it was something.

“Vira, brief me on the Red Zoner.”

The virtual assistant did as told, the voice female and crystal clear.

“Name: Echo. Age: One-hundred-twenty-eight. Occupation: Sound Technician for the City Net. Echo is rated Level S, Class two on the spectrum.”

That put him among the top forty percent of their kind, would require a very cautious approach on Rains part. Not that he was concerned – he was categorized as Level S, Class one which put him even higher on the spectrum than Echo. Still, a Class two was a force to be reckoned with, even for him.

 “He can manipulate soundwaves and is likely to cause material damage during your encounter. His apartment is on the 43rd floor. The building has been evacuated, the risk of civilians getting injured therefore close to none.”

Good. Not having to worry about anyone getting in the crossfire would make his job considerably easier.

“Last psychological evaluation?”, he asked.

“Seven months ago. The Psys determined Echos work was still providing sufficient mental stability for him.”

When Rain arrived at the scene, he found Echos apartment all but trashed, just as Vira had predicted it. The neighboring apartments had also been affected by the uncontrolled outbursts of Echos abilities and partly demolished. The Destructor was sitting on the floor in a corner of his bedroom, his knees bend, and his hands desperately pressed against the sides of his head. His face was a mask of pain, his body shivering as he was whipping back and forth. It was a picture Rain knew all too well, a picture he was dealing with on a weekly, sometimes even daily basis.

It took Echo much longer than it should to realize he had a visitor. Frantic violet eyes bored into Rain’s before another soundwave erupted out of Echos body. A cutting pain sliced through his head as his eardrums ruptured and a split second later his body crashed against a wall. Leisurely sweeping the rubble off his clothes he got back on his feet. What might have crippled a human for weeks Rain had shrugged off in the blink of an eye.

Echo caught his gaze, the agony in that violet depth one only another Destructor would ever be able to truly comprehend. Humans believed the price their kind had to pay for their strength, knowledge, and longevity was their inability to feel emotions. What they would never understand is that the true curse of their existence lay in that very “strength” itself that the humans so blindly admired. What they failed to notice was that strength always needed energy and that energy had to be produced by the body itself. Taking into account that even the weakest Destructor was approximately thirty times stronger than the average human, it was only logical the pressure their bodies had to endure was thus much higher as well.

The worst part was the constant restlessness. Unless sedated or unconscious, a Destructor's body and mind were always working at maximum capacity, always processing information, always eager to release the power that so easily accumulated under their skin. The only way for a Destructor to find true peace was to find an Anchor, something or someone they could focus all their energy on, something that could calm them and give their lives stability and a purpose. During the time of the Great War, that Anchor had been forced upon them by their human masters through mind control and therefore not been considered a problem by the creators of their race. Now, free of their chains, it was up to themselves to find something to live for – before it was too late and their own body eventually turned against them, the never-ending restlessness too much to bear.

“Do you wish me to get you to the Asylum?”

Echo would have to get drugged to the point of barely being able to walk and think, and if the therapy didnt work out for him, he would be put in preventative detention – which meant he would stay in that drugged state until the day he drew his last breath.

Hands still pressed against his head Echo rose to his feet, his gaze never leaving Rain’s. This time, the soundwave was aimed directly at his opponent. Echo had made his choice – and he had chosen execution.