Trace

Thirty-Seven

"Hello, Trace." His voice was so calm, so in control that Trace almost shot him then and there.

Instead, she froze, her gun aimed at his head. He was sitting at his desk, a huge mahogany monstrosity, the only wood she'd seen in this whole building. He was exactly like she'd imagined, a man with nothing but cruel ferocity behind his eyes. A young boy stood next to him, pale red hair and colorless eyes, all meekness and obedience.

"I was expecting you to come with your army, but I guess I can't predict what your going to do, can I?" He laughed humorlessly.

"Minister Yang, you are hereby arrested for corruption of the Government, this City and its people. I will give you one chance to come quietly."

Yang laughed again and stood up. Trace felt her finger tighten on the trigger of the gun.

"On what charges? For making this City more secure and safe? For helping our Government to be the best it can be? For giving its people what it wants?" He paused and studied her. "They don't like mutants, Trace, and you know it."

Trace hissed through her teeth. "Yeah, well, check the news, Yang. We've got thousands of supporters and our armies growing constantly. We've got you outnumbered and outsmarted."

Yang regarded her closely and Trace felt something poke at her brain. Wiki's words flooded back to her. Their mutation is mind reading, telepathy, whatever you want to call it...I think they can also control others. She forcibly put up a wall in her mind and smiled when Yang flinched.

"So you do know."
Trace nodded. "Are you going to come quietly or am I going to have to kill you right her and now."

He glanced at her. "You're not going to kill me Trace. You're not a monster."

"No." She said through clenched teeth. "But you are evil."

"Evil?" He laughed, pacing back to his desk, sitting on it with inhuman grace. "Perhaps I am. But you say that in such a manner of speaking that seems like you regard everyone who stands against you as 'evil'. Think of a spider, who weave their webs in our gardens, wrecking the entire scene. To them, we are regarded as 'evil', destroying their homes and their bodies. But, to us, we regard them as 'evil' for destroying our perfect garden. And so, we are back to square one, naming whoever we like as evil purely for existing or holding a different opinion." Yang looked at her. "So, in retrospect, I would regard you and your pathetic Rebellion as 'evil'."

"Are you finished?" Trace asked, squeezing the trigger a little tighter. He smiled.

"Trace, you heard what I said before. If you truly regard me as 'evil', as a monster, then kill me. But then, you'll be the monster, the 'evil' one."

Trace considered his words and realised she agreed with them. Half angry with herself, she threw the gun to the ground, the bullet burying in the floor.

"You're right." She said, glaring at him. "I'm not going to kill you. I'm not the monster here."

"But I am." An unfamiliar voice said. Trace turned her eyes to the red-haired boy, who had moved to stand in the very center of the two.

Yang's smile stretched wide. "Yes. Good. Finish her off, Oblivion."

Oblivion? That was an odd name, even for a mutant. Trace wondered what his mutation was.

He raised his hand and suddenly, Trace realised she couldn't breathe. It wasn't like a panic attack, where her body refused to breathe, it was she literally could not draw oxygen into her lungs. There was none. So that's it. She fell to her knees, clawing at her throat, her vision swimming in an out of focus.

She saw Oblivion walk closer, his hand slowly tightening into a fist. Her lungs felt like they were being crushed and, with one final, desperate attempt, she wheezed out a "Stop" barely louder than a whisper.

And then, unexpectedly, Oblivion winked at her and spun around, releasing her from her grip. She sucked in lungfuls of air, feeling it burn her as she collapsed, gasping. She raised her head and saw the fear in Yang's eyes.

"No." He stuttered. "What- what are you doing?"

"You made me a monster, made me a killer. I figured it was time you found out which side I'm really on." He thrust his hand out and Yang fell to the ground. For a moment, he struggled before his eyes rolled up into his head and he fell to the ground, breathing out his last before lying still.

That was it. Yang was dead. But Trace hadn't killed him.

Oblivion had.

"Why?" She whispered hoarsely. "Why did you do it?"

Oblivion shrugged and gently picked her up. "You know Glint? She's my adopted sister. She contacted me a few weeks ago. There's a few of us on the inside, helping you guys out. I figured this was the least I could do for my family."
"Family?"

Again, he shrugged, but this time, he smiled. "Any sister of Glint's, is a sister of mine."

She didn't say a word for a moment as he handed the radio to her, shouldering her bag.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

"Although," She muttered with a smile. "It was a little overrated. All that build-up and bam, now he's dead." Trace thought for a moment. "Now, what?"

Oblivion glanced at her. "Now, you do whatever you want. It's your life- live it."

Trace smiled.

The radio crackled. "Trace?" Wiki. "Is it done?"

She paused and looked at Oblivion. He nodded.

"It's done."