Kit stared at the man, with glasses and black hair, held back by two guards. Whatever this man saw on Kit’s face made his features twist in anguish. Kit bared his teeth at him, like an animal. Sometimes he could not decide if he was more animal or machine. He felt like he might be both.
"Kit, don’t," said the man—Lucien. The guards holding him ordered him to shut up.
Vesperin just stood there, eyes wild. She looked different. Paler. Unwell.
Something in Kit cracked, rattling against the metal-fused bars of his flesh in rage. He was the only one who got to hurt her.
"Who hurt you?" Kit’s voice was low.
"W-what?" Vesperin shook her head. "What are you talking about, Kit—" She made to step forward, but a shift in sound made Kit’s head swing to the cloaked Soul Searcher, who was trying to be subtle as he shook his head at her.
The guards raised their weapons.
Kit did not feel fear.
"You look hurt. Who hurt you?" His eyes raked over her, from the top of her tousled hair to her heels, peeking out fromthe hem of her gown. He did not know what to do with the feelings she stirred within him.
One of the guards raised his gun, the barrel gleaming in the low light. "Back the fuck up."
"Phoenix," another barked, when Kit did not move, "surrender."
Kit did not speak.
"Enough," came a smooth, strong feminine voice.
That voice had spoken to him as he had been cut open, his brain bared for them to study. The room before him merged with the dark, blood-soaked, medicinal operating theater. He shook his head to displace the thoughts.
When the room sharpened before him, Sabine stood there, Talor by his side.
His father, his mother—his makers.
The ones he vowed to hunt that day he had escaped. To make them pay.
Kit found his focus torn away from Vesperin—his true obsession—as Sabine stepped closer, the guards anchoring her.
"Kiton, thank the Celestials you are here." Blasphemy. She did not believe. "You can help us apprehend these trespassers." A slender finger pointed at the group, as if she wished to sic him on them.
Lucien was the only one held back. The Soul Searcher stood before a red-haired woman, while Vesperin was backed against a wall.
Kit felt a smile tug his lips. True and sinister.
"Ma’am, we should get you out of here. I don’t think—" one of the guards started.
"Are you giving me an order?" Sabine questioned.
The guard shook his head.
"Return to us, son," said Talor, "or our guards will force you."
"I have ripped apart each guard you have sent for me. What makes these so different? I will coat the walls of this room in their entrails. I will paint you in the blood of the soldiers you send to bring me back to the base. To return—return to the base?Never," Kit stressed.
He studied the guards. There were twelve. Seven on one side, five on the other.
Sabine shook her head. "Pity." She began to turn away. "Get him."
And the guards obeyed.Theywere well-trained; Kit was not. He surged forward, while two of the guards stepped in front of his makers, shielding them.
Bullets sprayed.
