"No way, bruv, she looks a little expensive," I hear Merrick say through my comm.

Hanson scoffs and answers through the static, "They're the best kind."

“She does look like a bite,” Merrick responds.

"Can we please stop talking about women like candy bars?" Kiera pips in.

Ignoring her, Hanson goes on to ask what kind of candy bar the woman they're ogling would be.

I listen to their banter as I stand in the scorching heat of the day. A crowd has assembled at the local rations department. We'd been called in earlier that morning because the department had predicted this outcome, as they'd recently passed a bill that lowered family rations by five percent. Of course, this didn’t affect the System. All Systematic workers were promised a lifetime of ration cards. Except the arcane. We weren’t even guaranteed basic human rights; the public would be livid if they found out most of their law enforcement were hidden.

I hover near the building entrance, making sure no one crosses the ropes that had been precariously thrown up this morning. I do so with little effort, drawing someone’s attention to the building on the other side of the street whenever they get particularly agitated. My real job is to look for any suspicious emotions in the crowd. There’s been a rumor floating around that a group of arcane are planning on breaking into the department during the protest and stealing ration cards.The System doesn’t take hearsay like this lightly. Rations have been cut for good reason; fields in the Occidens District had been razed by rebels a month ago, and the nation is now feeling the effects. A threat to one simple rations building was a threat to the entire country.

I scan the crowd, trying to unravel the warring sensations emanating from the people. I find it fascinating that humans like to put themselves above other creatures when moments like these display how truly animalistic they are. I feel the rage coiling off them-- it’s a bitter taste, a loud screech. I feel the hurt-- it burns me, makes my hands twitch. I shake the sensations off and try to concentrate, whistling a tuneless tune and tapping my foot impatiently. This day seems endless.

That’s when I feel a sharp pain in the back of my head. An extreme sense of unrest comes from somewhere in the crowd. Like a bloodhound, I search for the source.

“What’s up, Con?” Hanson nearly exclaims, breaking my focus.

I swear. “Nothing,” I mutter. Then I probably make the biggest mistake any soldier could make-- turn off my com and head into the mass of people. I can still hear my squad’s chatter, but they can’t hear the shouts as they grow louder around me. I clench my fist as my hand begins to shake. Whatever is causing such a disturbance is even affecting me. There, I think, and my eyes land on a man positioned near the back of the crowd, quivering as he stares off into space. He stands out from the rest; he isn’t shouting or throwing things, pushed against the crowd or crying. He’s also in all black, long sleeves and pants.

“Connor, reply,” I catch Bao saying. “Where the hell are you?”

But it’s too late. I’m already following the man as he turns from the crowd and heads to the opposing, abandoned building. I trail him as subtly as I can, watching him as he opens the door.

“Private channel created,” an automated voice chirps, just as the man disappears inside.

“What is going on with you?” Bao asks, fuzz making his voice skip like a broken record.

I sigh and unmute myself. “You wouldn’t want to know,” I tell him as I check my gear. This is more than a little suspicious. The emotion sparking off that man was more than any human I’ve ever met. I’ve seen angry people before, but never that rowdy. I pull out my handgun and check to see if it’s loaded.

“Stop being so cryptic. I practically know everything about you already.” The private channel falls dead for a moment as Bao makes sure to check in to record that sector three is all clear.

When he returns to the channel, I say, “It happened a long time ago. He doesn’t matter.”

“Who?”

I get into position with my gun up and flashlight out, preparing to open the door. “No one now,” I add before finally muting the comm again, swinging the door open… and the sharp pain in my head disappears, along with the emotion in the air. I step inside, against my better judgment.

Turning on my flashlight, I discover that the building is a small theatre, the leather seats stripped bare and the curtains on the stage patch worked. As I pane over it, my light stops dead in the middle of the platform. The man stands there, faced away from me, and as I slowly approach, he begins to twitch and pull at his hair.

“Sir, can I see your hands, please?” I call out, but I get nothing but silence. “Sir, hands in the air, now!” As I get closer, a strange feeling encompasses me, and my hands go numb. “Shit.” I turn off my safety and take a deep breath.

That’s when he starts muttering to himself, followed by short bits of laughter.

“Can you speak louder, sir?”

To my surprise, he responds. “This is where it ends,” he answers, laughing louder. “This is where we all end.”

This sends shivers down my spine. Something about those words… I could’ve sworn I’ve heard them before. I go to turn on my comm to report this, finally, when the man begins to shout.

“No! No, no, no, no. This is where we end,” he repeats, wrapping his arms around himself. “This is where it ends.”

Severely freaked now, I try to unmute my comm and find it isn’t responding. Then, the door slams behind me, leaving me to the small tunnel of light from my torch. I look around in alarm, and when I return to the stage, the man is gone. “Fuck.” You’ve walked right into a trap, idiot. 

I reach out, trying to feel the man’s temper around me, but I get nothing in return. “What the hell is going on?” I mumble, turning back to check the door. But as I shake the knob and discover it is locked, I hear someone whisper my name.

Scanning the area, I swear I see a shadow disappear behind a staircase. “Sir?” I blurt dumbly. With my head full of reasons why I shouldn’t, I race towards the staircase with my weapon in hand, too invested now to try and find a way out and get backup. I climb the stairs two at a time, flashlight bobbing. The air seems to grow colder as I make my way onto the balcony.

Connor….

I turn around and-- a loud boom resonates throughout the building, the floor shaking uncontrollably, nearly knocking me off my feet. A bomb? Fuck. Bao and Kiera are in the rations tower, and I’m certain that’s where the explosion came from. Frantically, I trip over myself as I head towards the stairs, with no idea where I’m going. Just as reach the bottom of the stairs, I hear my name again. Except this time, there’s no way it could be in my head. I turn towards the source and find a man standing in the aisle. He’s not the same one as before, who was older and less fit. This is a young man, dressed in black just like the other-- someone who could definitely take me down if I let my guard fall.

Before he can open his mouth to say anything more, I shout, “Get on the ground! Hands on your head! Now!”

The man does as instructed, but looks slightly surprised. “I-”

I plan on asking him the procedural questions you might ask a potential terrorist while securing him with handcuffs, but as soon as I step closer and my light lands on his face, I freeze.

Blue.

Stop shitting yourself, Connor. You’ve seen blue eyes before.

But my hands begin to tremble. I feel like a glitching Animated. Thoughts race through my mind that I can’t comprehend as if I’ve suddenly started thinking in a different language. The pain I had felt at the ceremony returns, piercing the back of my head, and my vision goes black. No-- I drop my flashlight. It rolls down the aisle as the man stands up and watches me with an odd expression on his face.

Shit. He’s doing this. He’s one of the hidden.

“Get the fuck away from me,” I growl as he approaches me in darkness, but whatever he’s doing has me clutching my head in agony. I’m a cornered animal, and just as they do, I strike out as he stops in front of me, sending out a wave of pain.

The man gasps like I’ve just hit him in the stomach and, in the dim light, I see him double over. With the overwhelming sensations driving me mad, I go to kick him as hard as I can in the side of his head but find myself stopping. The man looks up from the ground, hand poised to stop a hit that doesn’t come.

I feel as if I’m fighting to battles-- one within my head, and one without. Except the entire fight is with myself. “I know you,” I find myself saying, and it’s only until the words slip from my mouth that I actually become aware of that fact.

The man nods and goes to say something when it happens.

It all occurs so quickly, I have a hard time describing it. His blue eyes look to the left of me, and I hear footstep from the same direction. I catch a spark of aggravation coming from behind me just as everything truly and finally goes dark.