Kings of Hell

In the basement of the Detention Facility, is a concrete prison – for the KINGS’ guard.

When we enter this space, all the doors are locked from the outside, with a timer of 12 hours.

When I look around their home, there is no furniture aside from four slabs for beds. No blankets. Not a pillow in sight.

A concrete table has food set up for the KINGS’ guard… no plates or cutlery.

Another concrete table has a basket for their laundry.

They had to leave their shoes outside the locked room.

Showers are embedded into one portion of the ceiling, slits – and a single swivel attachment to turn the cold water on and off.

While Dexter, Dusty, Randy and Ryker start to run robotic laps without their shirts on, around and around this concrete nothing-space – I feel eerily freaked out.

I’m standing in the middle of the expanse with one light bulb, totally overwhelmed by the impenetrable prison. They don’t even know they’re living in a prison.

That, is the part I can’t accept. It’s now that I feel the world is literally sitting on my shoulders. And maybe the integrated FC mutants into Atlantis, the ones without clear physical mutations, who hopefully remembered what real freedom was like.

As the KINGS guard continue to run laps around the edges, silently moving, around and around and around, eventually they strip off their pants under the shower and turn on the blasting cold water. It comes down like a torrent – the water spraying so hard it’s ridiculous, it can’t be comfortable at all.

I feel like I’m in a damn horror movie.

I run up to the swivel and I turn off their water for them.

“STOP,” I scream at all of them, “ARE YOU ALL MAD?”

I don’t care that they’re all naked and towering over me – but Dexter is certainly hell bent on ignoring me, so he walks right up to me, moves me aside by shoving me away, and turns on the cold shower again.

I stumble back and lean against the wall, as they all enjoy their torture.

I walk away, shaking my head “…this is a night off for them…?” I whisper to myself.

A minute later the shower is off.

“Militants need constant conditioning to stay primed and ready for war,” Dexter actually calls out to me, when he sees me pacing around in circles in distress.

“What war – there is no war?” I ask, “War on your own citizens?”

“The threat of war is always immediate,” Dexter explains, as he comes up to me to stand with his hands behind his back. Dusty, who is Serge, Ryker who is Ace and Randy who is Jose – line up in the exact same formation next to Dex. Totally naked soldiers, dicks starting to rise, “Take off your clothes and we’ll do the rest,” Dexter is totally at ease with this next part.

“I refuse,” I respond, immediate.

“Don’t make it a punishment,” Dexter looks too serious for my liking.

“…fine,” I gulp, deciding I should test out the parameters, even while I feel overwhelmed. I walk up to Dex alone, and I pretend to obey, slipping off my jacket as I stand in front of him, I’m still very fully clothed, but I place my hands on his chest, and he gladly takes the edges of my shirt – and rips it up over my head. I raise my arms, now standing in nothing but my pants and a bra, I keep my hands on his chest, and they tremble with my frayed nerves.

“Don’t be nervous,” Dexter tries to keep me relaxed, even as the other three walk around, right behind me and one on either side, suddenly blocking me in between them all. I watch as Randy hooks his fingers under my pants, ready to slip them off.

“…do you remember the massacre on the street…” I whisper it, now that I have their full attention.

Dexter has stepped into me, his front flush with mine, while I look to see Dusty has pushed into my back – and I’m slowly getting intertwined between them. However, at least now I get a pause from Dexter, who is leading each turn. They remind me of sex robots performing a step by step procedure, and that in itself is disturbing.

“Yes,” Dexter answers me, furrowing his brow, “I forgot about it – until I saw your face,” Two of them are trying to slip my pants down, and now I grab their wrists with a hard vice grip, digging in my nails, “…don’t try and fight this, Wendy…” Dexter moves into my ear, whispering, so quietly it’s barely audible, “…they monitor… everything…” he pulls back, mouthing everything, once more.

Oh.

I understand the sadness in his eyes.

Dexter can’t let his authoritarian composure slip… for even a second.

With that I let them take off my pants, but I put a firm hold on my panties, so they can’t remove them.

As their hands slip over my thighs, and around my waist, I lean up to Dexter and he leans down, so I can kiss his lips briefly, a small nervous peck, before I put my lips straight to his ear, “…don’t be afraid when I take control of you, Dale,” I pull right back, to see Dexter looking perplexed, as Ryker almost rips my panties off as he pulls on them too hard.

I feel I have no choice now. They’re too forceful. And I will not be raped by them.

I pull on that forbidden string inside me.

I had always remembered Casey’s warning, and since using it to kill my adoptive-family… I never wanted to use it again unless it was seriously life or death. But this was something even more serious I had to face. I had a real responsibility as an Ultra, hired by the original Dale – to do this kind of work.

I had to cause chaos.

“Wait. I have a STD you guys… so… walk away from me,” I use my control on the last four words, keeping it minimal.

The order is received immediately.

Like clockwork, all four of them turn and walk away. I’m controlling all the minds of the KINGS guard.

A rush of power floods my head as they obey me. It’s fucking euphoric. I want to do it again immediately, but...

I bite my cheek and look down at my feet, observing my toes.

I’m hoping looking down doesn’t come across as suspicious to whoever is monitoring us.

Then, I also walk away into a corner of the room, trying to show I am ashamed, as I huddle down with my knees to my chest – to then quietly look around the room.

After a while, the KINGS guard can suddenly control themselves, after walking as far away from me as possible, they turn around, back in control.

I look at Dex to try and read his eyes.

Finally I see some emotion. No anger. No fear. Rather, excitement and curiosity.

The others keep their wise distance, clearly freaked out – but not wanting to show it. They go to their separate beds with neutral faces.

Dexter is the only one who approaches me directly, grabbing a pair of pants to sleep in, he jumps into them and then comes before me, squatting down to my level.

“I’ll request a blood test,” he says, his eyes sparkling.

“Why are you so happy? I said I have an STD,” I prod him.

“I’m a trained doctor, I can help,” Dexter keeps it at that, but I know he wants to say more.

As he walks to the intercom by the locked door, he requests assistance.

Since he asks for nothing more than a blood test and it’s results, he’s immediately adhered to.

A few minutes later the door opens and someone hands him a needle to collect my blood.

I hold out my arm so he can do it, and I watch every second to make sure nothing else is slipped into my system.

By the time he’s taken a full vial and passed it outside, he requests, “I want a full comprehensive report printed off for me,” I listen from the floor, I have to wait with the dread of knowing they’ll find out I’m a liar. Dexter now sits next to me with his back against the wall also, “I’m very interested in the results, Wendy.”

I know he’s not looking for an STD. I know he wants to read my DNA. He’s going to check I’m really an Ultimate. After what I did, he no doubt believed I was one, but he wanted the blood work to affirm it.

“I’m scared, Dex,” I admit, “I can’t do that again,” controlling minds.

Dex understands.

“They send me comprehensive reports because I see what others can’t,” Dexter adds, quietly.

“When do you get out? When the timer goes down?” I ask.

“It’s a clock, but yes,” Dexter counters.

It’s a timer for their imprisonment over night, but I don’t argue with it.

“Do you… so… do you sleep here, every single night?” I ask carefully.

“Airen was very generous in allowing us to have our own secure bunker,” Dexter waits with me now, as just under the door – paper is slipped in.

“Are they afraid you’ll commit suicide?” I whisper, “You’re not allowed to have anything with strings. Nothing sharp. Even your shoes are outside. You don’t even have cutlery or plates.”

“You’re very observant,” Dexter picks up the papers printed just for him, “…yes, I’ve tried many times,” he adds, super nonchalantly.

“Are you serious?” my heart aches with his admission, even as he refuses to show much emotion about it.

Dex gives me a funny look, and then he clears his throat before he looks through the evidence.

I let him read my blood work. Even I didn’t know what my blood test would say.

“Healthy, on all accounts,” Dexter murmurs, as he reads through the general results, then heads to the DNA. It’s a lot of numbers and codes.

“You can understand all of that?” I ask.

“Yup,” Dexter keeps reading, “I know my DNA, every strand, off by heart. Including every Ultimate. It was my interest to see any patterns in their superior gene code. I find it fascinating,” as he trails off, his eyes scan so quickly, I just let him read for over an hour. The others have fallen asleep on their concrete slabs. I’m almost falling asleep, my head hanging to the side, when he suddenly speaks up, “I know who your parents are.”

W- what?

“Even I don’t know,” I whisper, croaky as my throat closes off. I lean back up and yawn, as his thumb moves across the codes. I don’t understand him, so he suddenly stands up and heads toward his bed, where he pulls out more papers from a small concrete hollow.

He comes back and sits down next to me with paper so old and crinkled, it’s about to tear at any second. His own fingers tremble with his attempt to keep from tearing it, as he brushes over two names very quickly, pretending to flatten out the crinkles.

He hands the whole thing to me.

“Take a read, I can teach you how to read DNA,” Dexter suggests, trying to keep the people monitoring us off the scent.

I’m looking over the DNA reports of Louis, Sammy, Dale, Serge, Jose, Ace, three names labelled 2.00, 3.00, 4.00 and Viola and Casey.

I’m staring lastly, at the two names which Dexter motioned for me to focus on.

Viola and Casey.

I just keep staring at it.

“You really didn’t know anything…?” Dexter murmurs under his breath, obviously reading my distress, before covering the question with, “…no STD… no diseases whatsoever… Wendy? I always thought you looked a bit feline.”

I’m reading under Viola’s name. Inclusive: Leopard DNA. And I look to Casey. Inclusive: Lion DNA. And also under that; unrecognised connections to unmitigated external mind-control. More connections. Viola is Dale’s sister, Sammy/Alyssa is Casey’s mother, Louis is Casey’s father.

Not just my parents. My family was on paper right here in front of me.

The Ultimates, whom were all frozen in ice.

Dexter, creepily – although he didn’t know until now – was my cloned uncle, Sammy/Alyssa and Louis were my grandparents, Casey and Viola… I can’t believe it… they are my mother and father.

I’m starting to think Airen might know exactly who I am, but is pretending to know otherwise.

I’m breathless… as this is the first time I understand my origins.

My whole world changes in this moment.

No wonder I was drawn to Casey.

It hadn’t been a crush as much as utter admiration and adoration. Because he was my father.

B-but Casey always talked about his girlfriend Viola. And she was…

She was d –

Which meant –

“Oh my lord, my mother’s dead,” I whisper, feeling a cry of despair suddenly building in my throat.

Dexter is fast, grabbing the papers back from me, distracting me, looking at me sideways in a newer, gentler light.

“No she’s not.”