LUKO

There was never a moment inside the prison that I didn’t feel like an animal, on the way to slaughter. I’d waited for over a month to be granted access to the yard—a mere hour of fresh air and existence outside the dull and claustrophobic buildings—but even here, it felt like I was waiting for my execution. Under the fluorescent tubes of light, the narrow metal hall was squeezed full of prisoners, all of us waiting with bated breath for the massive metal doors to slide open.

It was hot, stinking of sweat and grime, my gray short-sleeve jumpsuit plastered to my tight muscles. Though the sides of my head were shaved, the rest of it was long and tied behind me—damp and filthy like the rest of the prison. Being in isolation most of the time, it always made me nervous being next to other prisoners—criminals you couldn’t trust. You never knew who was carrying a shiv or who would simply become so desperate they’d do anything to escape…and take anyone down with them.

The prisoners weren’t the only ones to worry about either. My eyes flicked to the guards stationed in intervals along the metal tunnel. They wore armor plated suits completely decked out with cybertech and held large weapons with both hands as they surveyed the crowd. Ominous helmets shielded their faces, prompting most prisoners to wonder if there was even a human under all that gear…or if the guards were just another systemized means of death should prisoners step out of line.

I felt my muscles tense as an alarm blared, echoing down the hall; people began to shove and push closer to the massive doors. I gritted my teeth, careful who I made contact with as I followed the shifting movement of the crowd, my heart racing as I finally saw a crack of harsh daylight. There was the grinding of metal as the doors slowly scraped open and then there was the rush.

Everyone ran for the doors, spilling out onto the concrete pad that was the yard. Though it was surrounded by walls that seemed to reach the sky, which flickered with a neon blue electric ceiling—a forcefield shielding us from airdrops—it was the most fresh air I had had in over a month. As the other prisoners dispersed and I was left with room to move and walk more than the five feet I had in my cell, I filled my lungs with the air. I felt the cool of it rush through me as I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what it had been like outside of Purgatory.

My thoughts were interrupted as I heard heavy footsteps paired with snide laughter. “Look boys,” the scornful voice made me look up, grimacing as I recognized the man who stopped in front of me. Thin lips were pulled into a smirk that flashed yellowed teeth, the gray prison uniform pulled tight across his thick chest as he crossed his arms. “The little lost pup still thinks he’s a fearsome lone wolf—hasn’t realized what easy prey he is.”

I huffed out a breath, staring at the man who was flanked by two other prisoners- both equally shady and slick with grease. My eyes flicked across the yard to locate the position of the prison guards—the last thing I wanted was more trouble, then it would be another month ‘til I tasted fresh air again. Though my muscles were tense, I kept my hands at my sides in fists, my teeth gritted as I controlled the urge to wipe that smirk off his face; though most fights between prisoners were seen as a form of entertainment for the guards, the unyielding metal of my prosthetic hands caused too much damage for them to look away. “What do you want, Rackett?” I muttered, my brow creased as the man stepped dangerously close.

“Don’t play dumb, Luko,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes as he leaned closer. His breath stank of cheap drugs as he mock-whispered, “You think you’re better off without a pack, but I’m just trying to watch your back here. We all heard about your last scuffle. We can protect you, next time…just hand over your stash, and consider it a good faith payment.”

My upper lip curled into a snarl, my fists tightening. “What makes you think I have a stash?” I snapped as I held my ground, unflinching.

Rackett’s hand whipped out, and I braced myself expecting a blow to my face; his fingers snatched at my hair instead, pulling a handful of long, vibrant purple strands in front of my face. “I’m not a fool—everyone knows you take Devil’s Hue, high quality by the looks of you. I doubt you’ve kicked the habit, so hand over the drugs, and you might not end up in solitary again.”

The words made my pulse rush, my mouth salivating as I twitched. Holding my composure I swallowed thickly as I insisted, “I’m dry. I don’t have a stash- haven’t for a while now since it was confiscated. You’re wasting your time.” I went to step around him only to feel his hard hands shove me back, nearly knocking me off balance.

His face twisted into an ugly scowl as he squared up to me, his lackeys standing solid behind him. “Can’t say I didn’t try,” Rackett said, his fingers flexing before he curled them into a fist. “You’ll give in eventually—and it’s more fun this way.” His eyes lit with a sadistic gleam before he raised his arm and swung his fist at me.

I stepped back, raising my arm instinctively to block the blow. There was the heavy clash of flesh against metal, Rackett’s fist driving into the plates that were bolted to the bones within my arm. His fingers crumpled against it, a ragged groan of agony drawn from his throat as he reeled back. Clutching his injured hand, he was seething as he backed up; the other two prisoners quickly stepped in front of him as he spat, “Fuck him up!”

Swearing under my breath, my instincts took over—against my better judgment. I could feel the heat under my flesh and the thrum against my bones as my cybermods activated. The tubes and wirings glowed through my skin—metal shifting from my skull, down my back and arms, all the way down my legs—as the mechanics within me readied for the fight. There was a sharp buzz of electricity—a pulse of power emanating from the thick metal collar that circled around my neck. My nerves were electrified, making me drop to my knees as my muscles seized and the cybermods began to stutter and shut down. The cement ground was rough under my palms as I braced myself, wincing as I watched the glow in my hands die down, too.

Mocking laughter filled my ears as one of the inmates stepped forward, cracking his knuckles as he smirked down at me. “All those cybermods and you’re still on your knees,” he scoffed. “Not so tough with that sexy collar stopping you, are you?” His murderous gaze widened at the approach of pounding footsteps, and the guards were on us before he had a chance to take advantage.

The guards shoved between us, barking, “Step back!” when Rackett and his lackeys were reluctant to back down. I grunted, giving off a shout as I felt gloved hands pull me up by the arms to stand. The movements were rough as my wrists were yanked behind me and cuffed in a block of iron. I felt the weight hang off me, pulling at my wrists. I was panting as I looked up at the guards in their robotic suits, their impenetrable helmets making them so inhuman.

One of them stepped in front of me, their weapon held tightly at their side. “Causing trouble again, Wescoff?” The guard’s voice was modulated by the helmet, monotonous and carrying the faint drone of machinery. They pressed the barrel of their weapon to my chest, keeping me from moving as they nodded toward the tunnel I had entered the yard from. “Take him inside.” At his command, two other guards grasped my arms, dragging me back toward the dank prison cells.

It felt like they were smirking under their helmets, but there was no point in struggling—and I knew what it would cost me if I argued. Though my body was covered in black market cybernetics and my muscles were thick and taught with tension…as long as that collar was around my neck it would be nothing compared to the exosuits the guards wore.

My sliver of freedom had been short lived. And instead of looking over my shoulder at the yard, I felt my head tip back so I could stare at the sky instead—trying to burn what little of it I could see into my mind. As we approached the metal doors to the tunnel, I sucked in a deep breath, filling my lungs with the cool fresh air, before I was sealed away again. Who knew how long it would be this time?

I looked up at the guards, my heart pounding as I noticed we passed the exit to my cellblock. A cold chill washed over me as my mouth went dry, finally finding the voice to ask, “Where are you taking me?”

One of the guards tightened their grip, making me wince as they said, “Where do you think?” Despite the sterile inflection of their voice, there was a smug note to the words. Fist grabbing my hair, he pulled back sharply, forcing me to look up at the emotionless helmet protecting his face. “No more questions. Shut your mouth and keep walking, or you’ll only make it worse for yourself.”

Dread curled in my stomach as he released me, yanking me forward again to continue marching towards whatever fate I’d have to endure. The thought of solitary confinement washed over me like a cold wave—memories of being crammed in a cell I could barely move in, darker than night no matter what hour of the day. Torture, screams in the distance, enough time doing nothing to drive a man insane…It had been often enough I wished I’d lose my mind just to imagine some other form of reality.

Just as I was preparing myself to be locked away for a week or month or however long it would be this time, the guards turned me down a different hall that I had only been to once before…The ‘Visitor’s Center’.

I sucked in a hiss of breath through my gritted teeth. In Purgatory, getting a visitor was never a good thing—people didn’t survive long afterwards. It wasn’t uncommon for factions to pull prisoners for information—torture them…or worse. I had never been part of a faction, but as Rackett had so gleefully pointed out, that wasn’t always a good thing when it came to protection.

The guards marched me through narrow halls, and I tried not to look at the rooms we passed—concrete cells with bloodstained iron chairs and tables, walls lined with implements meant to inflict pain. There was a pit in my stomach as they stopped in front of a closed door, the lock clicking open as a guard accessed the keypad set into the wall. Fingers bit into my shoulder as they kept me from attempting an escape, and then the guard shoved me into the small room.

A small metal table with iron chairs was the only thing in the room, bolted to the floor. The bare concrete walls gave me a faint sense of relief before my gaze focused on the person waiting at the table—a visitor whose face I had never seen before. Though his clothes were understated, his tailored trousers and tight leather riding jacket appeared high quality. Scruffy black hair surrounded fine features as he looked up at me, brilliant green eyes taking me in slowly before he gestured to the chair across the table from him.

The guard dragged me forward, forcing me into the seat. The visitor raised his slender hand, his voice softly commanding, “No need for that,” as the guard moved to chain my iron restraint to the chair. His gaze turned to steel as the guard hesitated, gesturing to the door. “I can handle him. Leave.” Though it surprised me, the guard backed away, leaving the room silently with the door giving a heavy click as it locked shut behind him.

I raised a thick brow, wondering what made this boy think that his slight frame would be any match for my muscular one. Though my nerves were still unsettled, my mind filled with unease and tension, I found myself asking gruffly, “Who are you? What do you want with me?”

He regarded me cooly for a moment before his gaze flicked to the cameras. Pressed against the table, a soft green glow emanated from the fingertips of the leather gloves that covered his slender fingers. Following his eyes, I saw the lights of the cameras blink out. Shocked, I looked back at the visitor to see a faint smirk curve his lips for a moment before he answered my questions. “My name is Destry. I’m here on behalf of the leader of Synchro…He’d like to offer you a deal.”