It'd hardly been the sort of day that would warrant additional exercise, but Cassian needed an outlet, and the punch bag in her home gymnasium was calling her.
She filled a glass with water and popped a couple painkillers into her hand, taking it down with a pained swig. Staring back at herself in the bathroom mirror, she scrunched her face up and tried to hide all the telltale signs of her persisting discomfort. It didn’t do much, she was still so terribly tired.
Usually Cassian would workout every other day; she’d nailed the recovery phase and found she could do even more, but it wasn’t necessary when she took into account her daily parkour commute and the fast-paced nature of work itself. She didn’t mind her new routine, but she found herself almost missing the days between high-school and university where all she was expected to do was train for hours on end. Perhaps, looking back on it, that wasn’t such a healthy thing to wish for.
She wobbled down the corridor to the gym room. Since sobering up at work she found her injuries had grown all the more uncomfortable; the cuts and scratches on her skin from the shattered mirror stung when they caught on her clothes, the bump on her head pulsated nauseatingly, and the technika static in her kneecap continued to buzz.
She had a feeling this injury wasn’t going away on its own. The opportunity to call their family doctor, LaClaire, was always there—he was a highly talented medical professional and had dealt with the removal of technika on more than one occasion—but she worried about the implications all of this would have for her father.
Stepping into the gym she felt a familiar sense of comfort wash over her. The bright lights faded in and the air conditioning kicked up: that was how she knew she was home.
She wasted no time getting to work on the boxing equipment, throwing her first punch which sent the punching bag swinging aggressively back and forth. Blowing a tuft of hair off her forehead, she grinned delightedly and whacked it again.
And again. And then again.
Her thoughts ran wild with speculation and anger. All this time she'd known Ali and now he was keeping secrets from her? How had he honestly expected to conceal such a huge matter?
In retrospect, his attempts to hide it had been half-hearted to say the least. He'd been rushing about asking suspicious favours and dedicating time to seemingly futile efforts for months. She realised now that he must've been busy building the new apartments and rallying together his friends, and whilst there was no doubt his intentions were noble, the thought of all this going on unbeknownst to her was still irritating.
She threw another set of jabs, the bag rattled, but not as much as she expected it to. Perhaps time was beginning to show her inadequacies?
Part of her had hoped that by kicking off at Ali today he'd feel guilty and reveal the true extent of his "plans" to her, but it felt as though she'd really achieved the opposite. She'd never been in a situation before where lying had worked out worse for her and she wasn’t in a hurry for that to happen again.
On the other hand, if she had been the type to be easily swayed by obstacles, she wouldn’t be The Saboteur. She could tell that Ali was coordinating some sort of uprising, some aggressive force that would uplift the Shadow District and seemingly support the Shadowers inhabiting it; what she wasn’t sure of was his ambition. How far was he willing to go? Who was he after?
Surely now he knew about Dolori Technologies Ltd his discovery of the Doloriak wouldn’t be far in tow, she began to ponder ways in which she could perhaps put off this inevitable association of information.
A myriad more punches later, there was a knock at the gym door. She turned to see her father leaning in the doorway, a stout whiskey glass in hand. The inky black contents of the glass was enough to tell her that this conversation was set to be another sour one.
“What d’ya want?” She grunted, scraping back her sweat-dampened hair.
“To apologise,” Darius responded, taking a light sip of the Regime’s Will. He winced and coughed it back, “If you’ll let me.”
“Ah so ya’ do realise you were bang out of order,” she raised an eyebrow and returned to punching as Darius began to approach, “Lemme guess the excuse… oh but it wasn’t me, it was the Will that made me do it-”
“The Will was indeed a contributor-”
“Then why don’t you stop drinkin’ it!” She growled, spinning around, arm raised to smack the glass out of her father’s hand. There was no follow-through. She lowered her hand, which had been inches from the glass and sighed, “I just don’t get it, Dad.”
“We’ve had an instruction,” Darius exhaled, clasping the glass between both hands and staring into the squirming pool of black. Cassian stood on her tippy-toes and peered over in an attempt to do the same, “to take it daily. As much of it as we can. For the next week.”
As Cassian gazed into the Regime’s Will, she realised it almost didn’t seem like liquid at all. It had no reflection, no visible texture, neither thick like sludge nor thin like water. It merely existed. A dark void-like presence within the glass. She could only imagine the repercussions of ingesting such a substance. It was alluring, in a strange way; what sort of person would she become if she tried it?
“Where does she get it from?” Cassian asked, drawing her eyes away from the glass.
“The Minister?” Darius blinked, seeming a little surprised by her curiosity, “Oh, well I suppose you haven’t met her, have you?”
Cassian’s brow wrinkled, “Does that have anything to do with it?”
“Everything, dear,” Darius smirked cryptically, “Regardless, that’s why I’ve been drinking it like water. We’re mere days from enacting the final phase of our plan. When The Minister gives the signal, the entire cohort assembles here to begin preparations.”
This was all news to Cassian, she wondered exactly when her father had planned to tell her about this if not right this moment. There had to be a reason.
“Preparations for what?” She asked, her voice low.
Darius grinned, “Dismantling the Shadow District, for good.”
Cassian’s stomach sank, almost against her will. She knew this would be an eventuality, just not this soon.
“You know,” she began, taking a thick gulp, “I dunno if I’ve got rid of enough Shadowers yet, there’s still quite a few of ‘em runnin’ around and all that-”
“You’ve done plenty, Cassian,” Darius said, placing a hand on her shoulder, “and I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise. Coupled with the funds you’re acquired, armaments you’ve sabotaged and all the panic you’ve created? Well,” he chuckled to himself, “they could never be prepared for it.”
For a few moments she was quiet, eyes trailing to the ground. Had he planned not to tell her til the last minute to keep her on her toes? Avoid hurting her? It was too late for that. Her mind was already flooding with fears: what would life without the Shadow District even look like? How would she spend her days without jobs to do and people to mess with?
She thought too of the friends she’d accidentally made whilst acting as Deputy, but she wouldn’t dare to use the likes of Ali and President Zhu as excuses to her father. Perhaps they could be convinced to join the Doloriak? A boy as bright as Ali was far too great an asset to be wasted, surely they all saw that?
The Regime’s Will in her father’s hand was beckoning her again. It had that sort of effect, she found, particularly when her thoughts ran rife like this. She wondered if perhaps, just once, it would be worth relinquishing her preconceptions.
“C’mon then,” she stuck a hand out for the glass, “If it’s as you say, I should probably start on this grim shit.”
Darius’ eyes glittered with pride, “Really?”
“Yes, really, chuck it over or I’ll change my mind,” she rolled her eyes, taking the glass off of him.
It was lighter than expected, solidifying her theory that it was an almost non-existent matter. She swirled the glass around and watched as it crept up the sides like a thick, wormy sludge. It took everything in her to fight the urge to gag.
Upon several further inspections, lifting the glass to the light, to her nose, even listening to it, she concluded it was indeed a glass of nothing. She was about to drink nothing. It was going to be fine.
At least, that’s how she rationalised it as she raised the Regime’s Will to her mouth for the first time and took a sip.
There hadn’t been a single point in her life, up until now, that she’d regretted more.
Without even trying to swallow it the drink leapt down her throat. The flavour was excruciating, like dirt, smoke, rot, all the hellish compounds she could think of rolled into one. It stung her body instantly, from her stomach to her neck and then her eyes. Her skin crawled, her hairs stood on end and it felt for a moment as though she had left her own body.
She handed the glass back to Darius and turned to the mirrored wall, staggering over to see herself. Her footsteps and grunts of discomfort echoed in and out of her head as she walked, her concept of direction had dissolved, she almost didn’t realise when she’d reached the mirror, falling against it and coming face to face with yet another Cassian she didn’t recognise. Soon enough there’d be a Cassian she didn’t recognise in every mirror of this damned penthouse, she was sure of it.
The black tendrils squirmed up and down her neck and face and trailed from her bloodshot eyes. A tear rolled down her face that she could not feel. Even upon tracing its track with her fingers and checking them for dampness, there was nothing there.
Startled, she wobbled back from the mirror and fell to the floor. The impact seemed to shake her back into the realms of sanity.
She sat up and exhaled sharply, “How the fuck can you drink that?”
Darius crouched to her level, he seemed concerned, “Admittedly the first sip is usually the worst.”
She watched as he took another sip nonchalantly and scowled, “I can’t believe you.”
“You’ll get used to it,” he replied.
“No!” She got up off of the ground with a slight wobble, “Nah, you won’t catch me drinking that again… Forget it. It makes you see shit that ain’t there.”
“Oh, well that’s fascinating!” Darius seemed almost in awe.
“No, Dad. It’s not fascinating, it’s fucked up,” she snapped, anger pulsating in her chest like a drum, “just… fuck, just go and book me a visit from LaClaire, will ya? My knee’s killin’ me.”
“Of course,” Darius began to take his leave.
“And can you please sort out the calibration for holding small items on this bloody arm,” she added aggressively, “it’s been two months!”
Darius paused, eyes wide with surprise. He stood there, taking in the vision of his infuriated daughter for a moment or so before approaching.
“I’ll do it now,” he held out a hand.
Cassian pointed at the punchbag, “I was busy training.”
“You’ve done enough,” he said sternly, “It seems the Will has given you somewhat of a temper-”
“Well I wouldn’t be the only one,” she narrowed her eyes at him and gestured to her knee.
“Perhaps you should build a tolerance,” he suggested, arm still extended to take her prosthetic.
She rolled her eyes, detaching her arm and handing it over, “No chance. Keep that shit to yourself.”
Leaving the room felt like the best thing for her to do. Perhaps a nap or something was in order? Anything to get rid of the impending anger that threatened to spark another altercation.
“In spite of your injuries, you did extremely well today, Cassian,” Darius spoke as she walked away, “Could’ve almost had that Siyseurlian gentleman too…”
“Is that the only reason you’re apologisin’?” Cassian spat, turning back to him, “Where was that basic respect when I fucked up yesterday, huh? Bet’cha didn’t realise I gave Ali another lead today too, did’ja?”
Darius smirked, “Yes, I saw that. Very astute of him,” he began to leave the room, ruffling her hair with a chuckle as he passed, “But you of all people should understand the need for a smokescreen…”
And with that, he carried on down the hallway towards his workshop.
Cassian pondered his words for a moment, then chuckled lightly to herself. So Dolori Technologies Ltd was a cover? Relief washed over her. The intricacies of the Doloriak worked in the most mysterious ways.
All of a sudden her Visocom began to ring. It was Ali.
"Shit," she uttered and darted for her room, flying in, slamming the door and sitting on the bed. That's what people did in their downtime right? Sit on their beds and do nothing?
She hesitantly answered the call, remembering to act sour, "Shadow Deputy Cassian, who's calling?"
"Cass, c'mon," he urged.
"I'm sorry, not sure if I know a Mr C'mon, what's the inquiry?"
There was a pause, she could hear him sigh a long, exhausted sigh over the line.
"You were right," Ali replied, "We're having a board meeting tomorrow, it's time to fill you in on everything. I'm sorry."
Cassian blinked, "Bloody hell mate that's a bit last minute isn't it?"
"I know I know, but it’s really important…" Ali insisted, "And you’re right. We gotta pick up the slack."
The prospect of Ali's plan picking up the pace was both intriguing and concerning, but she tried to put her worries to the back of her mind for the time being.
"Also geez Cass, is that your bedroom?" Ali gasped, "I know you live in the High Rise District but dang… oh yeah! There's the Karalee posters!"
"Oh, haha," Cassian laughed nervously, "Don't worry about this tatty old place. Camera makes it look so much better than it is…"
"Sure," Ali replied suspiciously, "Well, the meeting’s tomorrow morning at nine. Be there or be square, or whatever-"
"Nine A-M?" She cried, "Oh that’s early… I’ll be knackered… perhaps we’ll need to reschedule for a-"
"Cass…" Ali said sternly.
"Alright, yeah, fine," she rolled her eyes, "I look forward to it."
"You should," Ali said, "All I'll say is, if this works, whoever's behind this Xytosystem apocalypse… they’ll never see it coming."
Cassian's mind blanked out for a moment. Why did he have to say that?
"Sounds… awesome," she said vacantly, "See you tomorrow."
"See ya," Ali hung up.
She laid back on her bed, hand on her stomach, staring in thought. There was a vague remnant of the Regime’s Will within, causing her thoughts to echo aloud, making her nauseous.
An attack on the Shadow District that the Shadowers could never prepare for and a plan to quell the Xytonetwork that the Doloriak could never see coming? She knew all too well that they couldn't both be true.
One would succeed and one would fail.
And she had a horrid feeling that that decision laid with her…
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