Unity Carl Stubblefield (read book TXT) 📖

ever see her as an independent person, and not one of their crafted creations. Every action orchestrated for maximum influence and public perception.

She rubbed her bloodshot, dry eyes and sighed deeply. Her head fell forward as she tried to resolve what she needed to do. She had always played it safe in the past. And what had that gotten her? Nothing that she wanted. It was probably why no one noticed her. She was content to stay in the background. Being the good girl, never making waves. Compliant. Poised. Demure.

That wasn’t what she wanted, nor how she saw herself. While Purple Faction was a good step in the right direction of regaining her independence and sense of self, would it be enough to get her where she ultimately wanted to go? She had been here six years, and had not been promoted or even groomed for any type of advancement. Something had to change. But perhaps her natural invisibility to notice could be used to her advantage.

Ideas began to bloom as she planned.

Harmony felt the wave of conflicted negative emotions wash out from even this distance. Grimdark was in trouble. She looked up at the two slabs of man-meat that stood on either side of her, their folded arms accentuating their impressive physiques. She had to compose herself, make her face sweet and impassive despite the emotional equivalent of a nails-on-a-chalkboard constant mental screech that made her want to wince.

“They rushed me in here before I could freshen up. I need to use the bathroom—”

“Sit tight. It won’t be long,” the other orderly growled, still looking straight ahead, as if the door would open faster if he didn’t stop staring at it.

“No, you don’t understand. I had a lot of coffee this morning, and it’s not going to be pretty. I would have said something earlier…”

“Just go.” Thing One pointed a finger accusingly at an unmarked door.

“Thanks,” she said as she tiptoed over and sealed herself inside. She had never been to this section of the building and the layout was totally foreign. She had hoped for an outside window or some other exit she could use, but no such luck. This was your basic single-toilet and sink bathroom. It apparently didn’t get much use, or was only used by higher-ups, because it looked exceptionally clean and unused. Another mental shriek that reached a deafening peak and then sudden silence.

She realized she had fallen to her knees as she shook her head to clear it. There was a residual ringing that had nothing to do with physical sound. And Grimdark was… gone. Like he had submerged underwater, masked from her connection and familiarity.

When she worked with someone, she could tune in to their mental “flavor.” Everyone had a distinct imprint that suggested a color tone, smell, or taste and shape. Grimdark’s was all hard angles and points, in a deep wine-colored purple. But now, she could not distinguish him. She could tell he was still there, but there was a sea of distortion hiding him under the surface.

*Bam* *bam*! “Hey, you wrapping it up in there?” a gruff voice barked as he hit the door.

She actually saw the door rattle in the frame from the force of the knock. Irritation radiated like waves of heat from behind the door. She knew her usual feminine wiles would do nothing to influence either of these guys.

“Can I get some privacy?!” she yelled back, frustrated at the lack of options. Time was running out. She looked around frantically, but there was nothing. There was a small fan in the ceiling, but the air vent behind appeared too small for her hips. There was a smoke detector, but she had nothing to make any type of fire. None of her abilities had physical effects either, so she couldn’t generate anything with a skill.

“They’re ready for you! Pinch it off and get out here! You can finish your business later.” Now the other guy had joined the first and they kept banging on the door insistently, making it hard to think.

“That’s not helping! Banging won’t make this go any faster!”

They stopped hitting the door and she heard some grumbling as they complained to each other. These weren’t paragons of patience, and in no time, they were going to break the door down and drag her out.

“All internal comms are blocked. We’ll have to contact everyone individually. Probably for the best; I imagine they’d be monitoring anyone on the system anyway. Rory, do you have any restrictions on things you can do with whatever they did to you?”

“Get busy living, or get busy dying,” he replied with a shrug.

“Okay. Let’s try this. Can you act like you’re escorting me to processing or orientation?”

He grabbed her arm. “Let’s go,” he said with a pent up breath.

Whatever compulsion was upon him would not allow him to work against the Faction, at least not directly. Not even something negative could be uttered. Could they get creative and use that to their advantage? Use a misdirect or half-truth to circumvent its effect, and Rory would be trusted implicitly because of his agreement with the Faction?

They went over certain dialogues, finding out what worked and what didn’t. When they had their routine down, they proceeded out to C wing to get the others.

The facility appeared abandoned, the usual traffic of supers moving from building to building conspicuously absent. It didn’t take long for a super to trot up to them. “Hey, where do you two think you’re going? Aren’t you supposed to be inside awaiting processing, or at the ceremony?”

Chapter Sixty-Six

What a Letdown

“We are heading to wing C to gather some recently returned individuals and take them to the ceremony—” Rory started to say.

“Wing C? They’re on lockdown, no one in or out.” The super’s eyes narrowed and his hand slid down the trigger of his suppression rifle. Aurora gulped and looked up to Rory. Those were new technology that were like tasers on steroids.