Page 18 of Dark Revolution

He chuckles, and again his eyes crinkle up. What happened to bring him down here in the drudgery of this cavern? Has the world changed so much that this is the new normal? It can’t be. “You tell me,” he laughs, eyes dancing with humor. “You’re grabbing that bag so tight, I’d imagine not even your undergarments clutch your balls with that much of a grip.” He smiles again, and there’s something so eerily familiar about him.

I know I’ve never met him before; it would be impossible. The only way would be for him to have been frozen in time along with me, but the comradery he shares with these people suggests a long-time engagement. Pulling the bag out in front of me, I pull out a few credits and toss them on the table in between us.

Leaning forward, he takes one and holds it to the lamp, studying it like an insect under a microscope. After turning it over a few times, he removes his cigar and bites down on the credit before running his tongue along the edges. “Seems legit. Am I to assume that the entire bag is full?”

“I’m not answering any more questions until someone tells me what the hell is going on around here.”

He sighs and leans back, propping his feet up on the table. “I can’t even fathom where to begin until you explain a little more about yourself. Let’s start with that uniform. That hasn’t been in circulation for at least fifty or so years. My father had one, and I keep it locked up in my house. It’s the last uniform worn by Guardian Alphas before the new insignia. Find the right buyer, and they’ll pay handsomely for it, yet you walk around like it’s a second skin.”

Blood drains from my face. Then it truly has been about a hundred years. “Can you confirm the date for me?” Yes, I’ve seen it on the coms, but I need to hear it. I need to know that it’s more than just a computer malfunction. If he can confirm it, then I can finally put everything to rest. Until I know for sure, there will always be that bit of me that wonders if I’m just going crazy.

Pulling his feet down, he walks past me and flips the sheet back, barking an order in some language I can’t understand. Even the translator that’s implanted in all Guardians can’t decipher the words. Turning back, he smirks and pulls out a small rectangle. “Here, tilt your head.”

I hesitate, staring at the man as he approaches me. Sighing, he flips the rectangle over, letting me see every angle. “I have a theory about you, and if I’m right, this will help. I’ll even let you do it yourself. Hold this end just behind your ear. Your brain will feel fuzzy for a moment, but then you’ll be able to understand us.”

When I make no move to take the odd piece of metal, he walks back over and kneels next to me so that we’re face to face. Grabbing my hand, he puts the metal in my palm and brings it up behind his ear. “Here, try it on me. I promise we mean you no harm.”

Scenting the air, I search for anything that might indicate he’s lying, but there’s nothing, not even anger. I slide my thumb along the smooth metal until my nail brushes against an indention. Pressing in, I wait for the man to drop, but he doesn’t. Nothing seems to happen. I frown and pull back, resting the tip where the translator should be.

With one click, the world goes white for just a second before everything comes back into focus. Nausea roils around in my gut for a moment, threatening to upend the water I guzzled down earlier, but several deep breaths keep it at bay. He extends his hand, and I pass him the device. Other than a mild headache, nothing seems wrong.

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” He barks his order once more, and again, the strange language pours from his lips. After a few moments, the headache gets stronger as his mouth keeps moving. It takes a minute or two, but then the headache subsides, and instead of harsh, guttural tones, I can finally make out words. “Bring the datacom and some food. Our stranger has needs.”

“I - I don’t understand. Are you all not from Stanlion?”

“Thank you, Misha.” Turning to me, he places the datacom and a steaming plate of some meat in front of me. The aroma from the dish sets my stomach to rumbling as a wave of hunger slams into me.

Ignoring the datacom for a moment, I grab the meat and rip into the flesh. At least it tastes familiar. It’s not the best seasonings, but at least I can tell it’s an animal from my home sector.

“We are from Stanlion. We’re just outcasts. Rejects. To keep hidden from the High Echelon, we’ve created our own language. Please understand, by gifting you the ability to understand us, we’re allowing you into our fold. You are now in possession of something far more valuable than food or drink.”

“Why? If you’re this secret organization, why include me? You don’t know shit about me. I could be working for them.”

“Yes, you could be, but I think you’re actually somewhat of a tragedy than a decoy. Let me ask you, what’s the last thing you remember?”

I stare up at him for a moment. What does he know? “My mate was ripped from me and darkness. I woke up several leagues from here.”

“That’s what I thought. We all felt the vibrations from the sinkhole from here. Once I knew the Cryoprison went under, I did some research on all the inmates there. Oddly enough, most had been released. The only remaining members were you and a few others. As of right now, you’re the only one that’s come back.”

The bastard actually did it. The more clues I put together, the more I knew it had to be true, but there was always that small bit that hoped for the best. His confirmation seals it, and I can no longer let delusion win. I have to face the hard facts of reality.

Walking back over to his seat, he props his feet up again and puffs on his cigar. “I looked into you. Most of your data was wiped out, but I salvaged a few things and put the pieces together. You were sent there without proper sanctioning. The king of that time didn’t sign off on you being there. It was all the work of the High Echelon, well, before they came into true power.”

My blood runs cold. The red-hooded bastards are now in control? “And what of the king? Is the monarchy still standing?” I don’t even have to wait for him to shake his head. His eyes tell me everything I need to know. “What of the Guardian Alphas?”

“Oh, they’re still around.” His voice takes on a bitter timber. Anger surrounds him, polluting the air with the acrid stench of ash.

“You good in there, boss?” The sheet draws back, and a huge Alpha pokes his head in. He pins me with a glare, and I can’t help but smirk. I’ve been itching for a fight since the moment I escaped the prison.

“Yes, Langston. I’m fine. Start the betas on their drills. We should be done here shortly.” With a nod, he disappears, leaving us alone again. “Some are okay. They still keep the peace, but several are no more than lackeys for the High Echelon. They bought into the lie that they are divine Alphas, birthed from Elex and Ilaria to bring order to the kingdom. It’s laughable.”

Even when I was still a Guardian, they never once made those claims. If they had, they would have been laughed out of The Council. I guess the old adage is true: once you hear a lie enough times, it sounds like the truth. That and if they have the Guardian Alphas at their disposal, no one would be able to resist.

“What about you? I take it you’re not a Guardian?”

“Fuck no. Not anymore. Those bastards took my life from me. I would sooner die than be lumped in with them.” Turning, he spits on the floor, the smell of ash turning into that of an open flame. “You were asleep for the horrors spilled upon Stanlion in the name of divinity. My poor wife, my mate...She had the misfortune of not being an omega. I committed the most heinous crime of following my heart.”

The hollowed space where the bond used to be twangs at his words. Did I not suffer the same fate as him? Even though I was asleep for all of it, and he had to live through it, it still feels fresh, like it just happened.