MARA
Three weeks. Three whole weeks had passed and I hadn't heard from Hudson once.
If I had to be honest, part of me was worried for him. He said that if he didn't come back to the Capitol with me in containment, that he would go through reform. And whatever this 'reform' was, it didn't sound pretty.
Learning what life was like outside of living in a junkyard for 16 years was difficult. Alex and I had spent so much time collecting spare scraps, we never paid attention to what went on in the outside world. There were mainly two classes in society today. The upper class—favored by the Plague. The lower class, including me who have never seen any luxuries in their lives, or were unemployed. Very few were fortunate enough to be in the middle class.
Alex had woken up about a week ago. It took a while of explaining and tests to see how he was doing. Clearly he was a bit scared, just as I was when I woke up in a hospital bed. But instead of Wes introducing himself first, I was the first to greet Alex. I didn't trust Wes, especially since he was a box of secrets waiting to be spilled.
Alex claimed he wanted to go back to the junkyard after being in the Rebel hideout for only two days. He communicated with me that fighting bad guys wasn't his thing—and I knew that too. So we sent him back. I promised him that I would eventually visit once I got my life figured out. And with one final hug, my long-time best friend was no longer by my side.
I had never felt so lonely, yet so welcomed in my life. Alex was now off without me, Hudson had probably given up on finding me (finally), Priscilla was a new shining star in my life and Elaine was one of my newest best friends.
Now, all there was left to do was to train, and wait.
I had just finished a two-hour training session with Priscilla. Wes claimed he had too much work going on in the command room following the attack on our own guards, which I thoroughly believed. Today we worked on abilities, such as using your leap skill to the best of use. Apparently, I could potentially jump up to twenty feet in the air if performed correctly.
"This way, Mara."
Priscilla was guiding me to a room I apparently had never seen before, just when I thought I had seen it all. As we walked the hallways, with each corridor we passed, the quieter it got. It became so desolate that I thought I wasn't even in the Rebel base anymore. Coming up to a hall, it suddenly got chillier. A sign atop of it read two simple sentences.
RESTRICTED ACCESS.
Those who pass must have identification.
I give Priscilla a confused look, as she suddenly pulls out a miniature card, and held it in her hand firmly.
"We can pass," she says taking my hand. "As long as we have the key in our possession, then no alarm will sound."
This hallway was small and looked like it hadn't been used in decades. Particles of dust were collecting on every shelf they could stay on, as the white and red walls were beginning to rust from underuse. There were only two rooms that branched off of this hall, and apparently Priscilla had her mind set on one of them.
"This room," she says using the same key to unlock the door. "Holds the most valuable resources a mutant could ever ask for. Take a look at this!"
And when the lights slowly flicker on, my eyes widen. A room probably four times the size of a regular bedroom stood before me, with swords and weapons galore lining the walls. In the middle of the room lied a simple desk. Curiosity got the best of me as to what could be hiding in the drawers of the desk, but I kept my mind focused on the weapons.
Walking next to the wall, my finger trails along a golden bronze sword that contained some kind of emblem written on it. Maybe it was a family emblem?
"These are the belongings of a few fallen mutants, who had given their lives up to protect the citizens of Earth and their family. They donated their swords, in hope of a future young mutant taking over their story one day. But since you and Hudson are the only two mutants remaining that I know... the chances are slim that their wishes may be fulfilled."
Ew. To think that one day I would have children with Hudson? That thought brought shivers to my spine.
Priscilla chuckles, as if she were reading my mind. "I know. Hudson is evil, and you're an angel. Those two things don't mix very well, dear."
I laugh softly, walking and looking at more swords that belonged to the fallen. Many of the swords looked intricately designed, while others just looked like boring, plain old pieces of metal.
"If you don't mind me asking Priscilla, what are your mutant abilities?" I question. That was one that I had been wanting to rid my mind of for a while now.
Priscilla smiles, while examining one of the swords in her hand. "I make a mean ass meatloaf," she says proudly. "And, I also am an empath."
"A what now?"
Was that someone who could easily share her feelings with somebody, or something? Maybe it means you can 'em' a path...?
"An empath. I'm almost a hundred percent sure you've never heard of someone like me." Yeah, you could say that again. "I can see someone's feelings straight through them. For example, right now you are..." her voice trails off as her eyes glow a faint shade of green, examining my brain for any trace of emotions. "You're mainly confused. Curious as well, even a bit at ease after all we've been through today."
Now that is a pretty sick power to have. Hudson could read minds, I was sure of it. I guess psychological powers ran through their family bloodline.
"With the powers of an empath, I can also make others feel emotions they aren't feeling at that moment. For example, if you are feeling depressed. With a simple burst of energy I can fix that right up for you."
"So that's where you get your natural charm from," I claim as a smile grows on my face, teasing her because I knew her natural charm just came... well, naturally.
"Nonsense, child!" She exclaims, laughing. "You will see my eyes turn green when I'm using these powers. Except for the meatloaf, of course. The meatloaf just requires a pinch of the secret ingredient, the right amount of..."
Her voice trails off in my head, as a sudden urge in my brain compels me to walk over to the desk. It was like something in that drawer was calling my name, and had waited years for my arrival.
Priscilla must've noticed my movement, because her meatloaf talk all at once ceased.
"Ah, the desk," she says like it's a topic she's gone over a million times. "Many years ago I sat here. Back when I trained some of the most elite mutants in the world."
"Priscilla," I say as calmly as possible. "Whatever is in that drawer... it's calling my name."
"Yes!" Priscilla says loudly like her favorite sports team just won a match. "A sword is calling to you, Mara. That is the sole reason as to why I brought you in this very room!"
A scoff escapes my lips. "Since when could pieces of metal talk to a person?"
"Well, isn't one doing it right now?" She questions and I sigh in defeat. "Well go on," Priscilla urges. "The drawer won't open itself."
As I take the final few steps towards the drawer, I use extreme caution. Who knows what could be inside that drawer?
"You act like a rabid animal is going to jump out of there any second," Priscilla jokes. "Just open it!"
And with one swift move, I do exactly what she said to do. And what was inside was something I never expected to see.
In the drawer lied nothing but... a pencil?
I almost laughed at how stupid it was, but I didn't want to get scolded by Priscilla. The pencil could be some rocket of mass destruction, for all I know!
"The pencil..." Priscilla whispers, her voice fading away. In her eyes was a distant look, as if she were reminiscing a memory from many years ago. "A very powerful weapon, indeed. It was yielded by one of my most powerful students many, many years ago."
"But Priscilla, this isn't even a weapon," I say confused. "What will it do, kill my enemies with lead poisoning?"
This very moment reminded me of a book or movie scene, although I couldn't place my finger on it...
"That's a good try, Mara. But you can't judge a book by its cover, can we?" She questions. She picks up the pencil and opens my palm with her fragile hands, wedging it in between my thumb and my pointer finger. Even though it was a pencil, it called to me like the inside of a conch shell does to the ocean.
"Now, spin it around in your hands. And whatever you do, don't let the led of the pencil face towards you." Priscilla backs away from my position and watches from a safe spot.
So, I tried it. I spun the pencil around in my hands probably looking like an idiot in the process, yet nothing happened. I shake the pencil a bit (obviously holding it away form me) to see if it was broken, and nothing happened again.
"Why can't you show me how to do this?" I ask her as she shakes her head. "Aren't you supposed to be my trainer?"
"These types of swords are different, Mara. You can't just move them and expect for them to open. They require willpower, just like humans need willpower to succeed. Find the inner desire within you to summon it."
I did exactly that, as I spun the pencil one more time in my hand, closing my eyes and willing for the sword to open. A soft unsheathing sound rang in my ears as the pencil in my hand definitely wasn't a pencil anymore.
Reopening my eyes, in my hand lied a sword compared to no other in this room.
Although it was a simple, grey bar attached to a butt of rubber, it was simply glorious. As it reflected in the light I noticed Greek emblems along the side, and I was curious as to what they read since I couldn't read that language. Its pointy blade could probably slash through any form of steel, and could do some nasty damage to any regular human being.
Priscilla nods approvingly, liking the fit of the sword on me. "Who used this before me?" I ask curiously.
She pauses, her green eyes becoming heavier. "This was your mother's sword, Mara," she says solemnly. "I was able to retrieve it shortly after your parents passed. But I was unfortunately unable to retrieve you, dear."
And by the tone of her voice, she clearly didn't want to talk about it. And to be honest, I didn't either.
I nod, feeling closer to my mom than ever before. It felt nice, having an object that belonged to an older family member. It came with a sense of belonging, trust and determination.
Determination that I would eventually get revenge on whoever killed my parents.
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Ugh, sorry guys. This chapter isn't a personal favorite of mine, so I'll be going back eventually to do some editing. Don't forget to like and vote. THANK YOU FOR READING!!❤️