The Oracle's Prophecy

16

A strict curfew meant the hours before daybreak were usually a quiet time in Harvardtown. This morning however, was an exception. Still more than an hour before sunrise a large open square in the center of the city known as the Old Yard was alive with activity. Surrounded by lit gas lamps and dozens of armed guards, every citizen in Harvardtown stood silently in long lines waiting to be questioned by the Squeaks.

Women and men, the young and old, the healthy and the sick. There were no exceptions. Everyone was going to have their turn. The lucky ones were sent back out into the night to re-join the line and wait. The unlucky were dragged into a nearby building. That's where the Myrmidons were waiting. So far many had entered, none had left.

Standing on the building's roof, Control kept a detached coolness from what was going on below his feet, preferring instead to monitor everything using his telepathic abilities. He was aware of every line of questioning, every beating and every cry for help, and felt neither pity nor remorse for those being tortured under his orders. In fact, he felt nothing except a rising irritation; it had been over eight hours since he'd arrived in the city and so far his men had uncovered nothing as to the location of the runaway Irenic, Nakano.

He wanted results and if he didn't get anything soon he'd be forced to use more extreme measures. He'd burnt a city down before to find a traitor and was prepared to do it again.

Stepping out onto the roof, an aide of the sheriff's called-out and disrupted his thoughts.

"A message from Sancisco, Senior." The young Irenic announced.

In his gloved hand was a folded piece of paper and he bowed his head as he held it out.

"Did you read it?" Control asked calmly from behind his mask, making no move to accept the message. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on the Old Yard and his hands locked behind his back.

The aide blinked back his shock.

"Senior..." He stammered. "I'd never..."

"Read a private message? Of course you would." The Myrmidon remained still and all the Irenic could see were the fires reflection dancing on his mask.

"I give you my word." The aide said.

"Then how is it by reading your mind I know the Watcher wants to inform me that one of her better predictors sensed something important is about to happen?"

The aide tried to stammer out a response but Control held up a finger to silence him and the Irenic found he could no longer part his lips to speak.

"This is my fault." He continued. "My men and I had no reason to come to this metropole before, so you've never had the chance to properly meet us. Allow me to correct that mistake."

He removed his mask and gloves and placed them in his coat pocket. The aide's face went wide with shock when he discovered the most ruthless killer in the Directory was only in his twenties.

"My title is Controller of the Directory." He fixed the young Irenic with his steel-blue gaze. "You should see me as nothing less than an extension of the Archon's will."

Amusing himself, he then removed his sword and showed the hilt to the aide. The Archon's seal was stamped prominently in the blade's metal. "With all its privileges and authority."

He slid the sword back into its holster.

When he turned back to the aide, his face had grown cold and mean. In a flash of movement, Control closed the gap between the two men and grabbed the boy's neck.

"In short, I am the Archon!" He hissed. "And this is what happens to those who betray him."

The skin of the aide's neck began to glow where Control's splayed fingers were gripping it.

"A neat little trick don't you think?" Control asked after the boy exhaled sharply in a dry, high-pitched whine. "We call it the hack."

The aide shuddered violently.

"I'm absorbing all the energy in your body. In essence, I am taking your soul."

The aide shook his head.

"I'll use it to make me stronger." Control continued. "More powerful."

Ashen-faced with colorless eyes that had sunk deep into their sockets, the aide barely moved. The only sign there was still some life in him was the slight twitching of his hands.

"Please", he croaked. "Stop."

Control didn't remove his hand. "Tell me, how did I know from reading your mind that the Watcher believes her predictor witnessed the start of the Oracle's last prophecy?"

The aide said nothing.

"Tell me!"

"I read it."

"And what is the punishment for this crime?"

"Death." The aide moaned.

"And I am carrying out this sentence." Control said.

When at last he'd hacked all the energy the aide could give him, Control dumped what remained of the body over the side of the building.

The sun would be rising soon. It would bring a day Control had waited for his whole life.

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