UNTITLED: Book One

DAY 120

I watched you stand

I took your hand

I shook it, and now I’m damned

Another strike, and another! Thema relentlessly rains down a barrage of strikes. Her twin daggers now an extension of her fist. The force of each blow makes the ground beneath this hero-to-be’s feet crack. His knees threatening to give out, but he doesn’t notice.

It’s become clear to Thema, and rest of The Five, that one the perks of these hero trainees strange…abilities, was a numbing of pain. But it didn’t matter. Dead is dead. Whether they feel it coming or not.

This is already their fifth hunt together—in less than two weeks. They were on a high, riding their own wave, really feeling themselves at this point.

A smirk creaks out across the corner of Thema’s mouth as she stamps her foot down hard on the ground; she delivers a power punch that sends the trainee flying.

Feeling unstoppable! She zooms after him and punches his entire body into the ground just as he managed to stop his momentum from her previous punch. Feeling powerful! Smiling ear-to-ear now, a look of bloodlust in her eyes, she twirls the daggers in her hand before slashing them down at his neck. Feeling the rush! He dodges just in time to avoid the letting the slashes cut too deep, then, failing to reach for his weapon, he grips a large stone and smashes it up side Thema’s head. She just smiles down at him, unflinching. Feeling large! She picks him up and slams him down by stabbing into his stomach. The last thing he sees is a foot stomping down at his face. Feeling alive!

Thema stands back up and tucks her daggers away at her hips as she wipes away the trainee’s blood from her face. Chuckling to herself now as she stands there and watches and admires her team cleanup the remaining terrorists.

With a saber strapped to his side, glinting whenever struck by light, No.2 blasts away with his twin pulse pistols—basically two pulse staffs broken down and reformed into a much smaller pistol form. They’re much weaker than a pulse staff but still very deadly and hard to handle for the average person. He has the only kind since there was only ever a limited number of pulse staffs remaining—due to the war.

No.3, using today’s weapon of choice—her spear. The art of killing on full display with the way she extends and shortens the reach of her spear so quickly; the insane, robotic precision of each thrust and slash. It’s odd to watch in combination with her body movements that seem to be a beautiful dance. Thema once asked her what she’s dancing to, and No.3 simply replied in her innocent glee, “To the sound the weapon makes,” which sent a shiver down Thema’s.

No.4, tossing enemies that climb onto his back stabbing him repeatedly to no avail, or even the ones that dare cross his path—launched, and smashed, against whatever hard surfaces they collide with. Occasionally, someone is unfortunate enough to be punched into oblivion.

And No.5…nowhere to be seen as usual. But that always meant good things with No.5, because it meant she was doing her job right.

Thema watches on in pride. Euphoric bliss rushing through her as she takes in all of their work, finally finding enjoyment in all this now that she has a team. Potentially, even some friends.

They’re excited too, she can tell as she watches No.2 doing his thing—keeping spirits up and everyone engaged simultaneously. If it weren’t for this ranking system, he would definitely be the leader.

She’s mentioned it to him once before when she had let her guard down the most with this group. None of them, including No.2 himself, responded well to the suggestion. She never mentioned it again.

She’s been quite lenient with the team lately—less stiff, as a reward for their excellence. She’s trying something new. Hell, maybe No.2’s infectious energy has even gotten to her of all people. She rolls her eyes at that thought, but her smile remains as she looks into the sky. She watches the clouds for a moment, really soaking it all in while it lasts.

While the others finish things up, a transport hurriedly arrives. No.5 found another terrorist cell?? Thema thinks to herself while she watches the rushing transport come to a sloppy hover over the battlefield.

Ehh. Perhaps, we’re all a bit too excited right now. We’re starting to get a little bit away from our discipline. It’s fun and all, but if I play too much, shit could go left real quick. After this, I’ll have to reel it in jussttt a bit.

She watches on as the transport begins to tilt and fall when an engine blows out…from the inside!? Right before it crash lands, a handful of human figures jump out.

Two tall figures in all black jumpsuits—faces covered, jump out while one of the disguised figures holds an older, smaller male. The fourth, and last figure to exit, is seemingly thrown out of the transport, crash-landing at Thema’s feet. It’s No.5.

Thema rushes to her side to check her pulse. Still alive, but beaten badly. Thema's head shoots up quickly as the old man walks peacefully across the field towards her while the two disguised figures engage No.2, No.3 and No.4. Thema’s eyes narrow now, furious, but unsurprised.

The tallest of the two, goes blow-for-blow with No.4 while simultaneously dodging and blocking No.2’s saber attacks. Her long, singular braid whips around violently along with her every move. Solara, obviously. Thema then looks over at the figure who is clearly Aiye, fighting No.3, who to the untrained looks as though she is putting up an excellent fight, by Thema knows otherwise. It’s Aiye after all. Things are never as they seem with him.

“Broker…” Thema manages to get his name out between the gritting of her teeth. Her jaw clenched so hard, you’d think she’d crush her own teeth.

“Young Thema. Salutations.” The Broker responds, calm as ever.

“I don’t know what that means, but I’m sure its insult can’t possibly be any worse than this ambush you treacherous piece of shit.”

“Greetings, is what it means, essentially. And Thema, Thema my dear. I do not recall any formal agreement between the two of us?”

“The formal agreement was me letting you live! Not only that, MOST LIKELY, saving your life from THEIR rampage!” She points at the pair fighting her team.

“Hm. Perhaps you have a point. I wish I understood that before all of this. My apologies.” The Broker gestures his hand to mockingly display this fake politeness.

“What. Do you want?” She spits at his feet. “Fucking surface dwellers…”

“Ahh, there it is. Never takes your kind long to get there, does it? Funny how it is always the first thing you all go to when frustrated.” The Broker sings with a side-eye glance, before he moves over to stand on her side. “I am here to cut you a deal, Young Thema.”

"Why, would I ever, take another one of your deals?" she growls as she spins in his direction--staring down at him with rage her eyes can barely hold back.

The Broker simply points, silently, toward the area where her team was fighting Aiye and Solara. Thema looks over, realizing that in her rage she forgot to support them. Her emotions always getting the best of her whenever those two are around. FUCK! She curses herself internally, now clenching her fist so hard that she her nails—digging into her skin—drawing a little blood. It relaxes her and she needs that. Now is the time to keep a cool head. Don't let these people keep toying with your mind... Exhale. Then, a silent release. For the team.

Unbeknownst to her, The Broker is silently observing her entire mental journey. He makes no comment, nor gives any clue to his thoughts. When she opens her eyes, they have returned to the cold, steel look she always had prior to meeting her team. The Broker grins, but with a hint of sadness.

She will do whatever she can to save them, but she knows she must resign herself to the strong possibility that these past two weeks will be all she will ever be allowed to have, and if so…then never again, she promises to herself.

"What do you want Broker?" she asks bluntly—devoid of any emotion.

By now, Aiye and Solara have taken down her team and are holding them hostage for her to see. No.3 is convulsing, Aiye standing over her body watching Thema. No.5 is down, right next to her and Broker. No.2 is sprawled out on the ground and No.4 is barely conscious, on his knees at Solara's feet while she holds him by the throat with one hand. She's picking her ear with her other hand—completely oblivious to everyone and everything else around her. Or so it seems, but is never truly the case.

"Your key." The Broker responds.

"What key?" she asks, genuinely confused for a moment.

"Your key, Thema. Your key to Isi-Iyi."

For just this moment, all of her worries and stress light up inside of her, burning like kindled wood in a bonfire. The smoke flowing through her as what was once a sobering moment, quickly becomes a high note. It starts out slow and confused, but soon Thema breaks out into a full blown fit of laughter—hunched over and holding her stomach and she tries to contain it.

The Broker patiently waits. She wipes her eyes and looks at him, releasing the final wave of laughter through controlled burst of giggles and chuckles. She speaks through it.

“ISI-IYI?”

“Yes. Isi-Iyi, No.1.” Broker replies with a jab, less patient now.

That jab is all it takes to sober Thema once again. Her face instantly erases all signs of her previous laughing fit.

“*clears throat* Ahem. Isi-Iyi. The key, to Isi. Iyi… For what? What reason could you possibly have to go seek such a miserable death? Trying to access that place? It’s suicide. You will be slaughtered.”

Broker looks at Thema, then over in Aiye and Solara’s direction. She scoffs and pulls out her key and hands it over.

“Here. It’s your funeral. Your life, and the lives of all your people, when you rely on the two most unreliable... Small man thinking he’s smart enough to tame the Sun. You’ll fail and then I’ll get my key back from your dead body anyway. I was your best choice, Broker. Now you’ll surely die.”

The Broker gestures over to the other two while he puts the key away. They let her team go just as another transport zooms down from out of cloud cover.

“Probably. But maybe not. Maybe none of you are actually the Sun that you have been told you are for all of your very short lives… Regardless, I welcome death if it means I achieve my goals first. All of you think that you are everything, blinded by your power, comfort and prejudice. You will be blindsided by anything even slightly better than you—only to realize you were not much in the first place. It will hit harder than any punch you have ever taken or bone you have ever broken.”

“Well I see you, so that makes you nothing.” She stares into his eyes.

He senses no recognition of the lesson, or the weight of her own words, when he looks into her eyes. He shakes his head disgusted and walks away. Thema speaks up once more—more menacingly this time, stopping him in his tracks momentarily.

“…I’ve known who Sollar is, and what lives in the dark nest the Sun fears…”

The Broker goes stiff.

“And you’ll lead us right to him. You have to. You better hope you’re as wise as you think yourself to be. What people don’t understand is that the Sun is always under control. That is how it came to be, #######.”

“Hmph. Been a while since I heard my birth name. Cute.” The Broker lifts his arm in the air as the transports flies low overhead. Aiye plucks him off the ground and sets him down inside the cabin. The Broker gives Thema a look before he mouths something to her.

She grunts and kicks up dirt as the transport flies away, watching it depart before she hurries over to her team.

“No.4…” she rolls her eyes after a while. Then kicks his side. “FOUR. Come on big guy. Get your ass up!”

He jolts upright looking dazed and confused. “Uhwhahappnd?”

Thema chuckles and lifts him onto his feet. “You good big guy?”

No.4 shakes it off and gathers himself after a moment.

“Yeah Boss… Soo?”

“Well, first off, what’d you think?”

“The stories underestimate her strength and ability. Greatly.”

“And?”

A predatory grin spreads across No.4’s face, “And, imma enjoy crushing her when the time comes Boss.”

Thema, smiling, gives his shoulder a light punch.

“Hell yeah.” She turns around, “What about the rest of y’all? Was that enough to gauge what we’re up against?”

No.2, cracking his neck and massaging his shoulder walks up, looking a complete mess. “I hope so!”

No.3 is on all fours, looking shook, while a banged up No.5 tends to her. Thema scowls, ashamed that it had to be like this.

“Hey, look everyone. I-… I am sorry for putting you in that situation. But this is the best plan to kill two or more birds with one stone. I may not be as smart as him, but The Broker thinks that we’re all just emotionless killing machines an-”

“…Aiye might be.” No.3 mumbles, shivering and terrified.

Thema winces. While her eyes are shut, she has a memory intrude on her sanity, making her relive a trauma in first person perspective.

She’s on her knees—much smaller and younger, hunched over and gasping for air. Her right arm wrecked as tears drip from her face. Her younger self looks up to see a blurred Aiye standing over her with an almost imperceptible grin. Thema shakes herself from this memory with two quick spasm-like shakes of her head and some repetitive fist clenching.

No.3 was meant to take on Solara with the others while she took on Aiye—hoping to create an opening that No.5 could take advantage of to remove him from the equation, or at least get a good hit in. But them catching No.5 like that threw them into improvise mode.

“Sorry, No.3. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be.”

“It- It’s okay No.1—Thema.” She manages a weak smile. “We fight…it’s what we do…”

“It’s my fault anyways. They caught me pretty quick. Solara’s senses are next level. I guess she was really put to the test when she used to live in the city.” No.5 says while holding No.3.

Thema looks down, “Yeah… she was.” She quickly shakes it off. No!Solara doesn’t deserve your empathy anymore, but you’ve got people with you now that do. Focus. Thema looks over to No.3.

Over the past many days and battles, she’s realized that No.3 truly is an ‘unwilling killing machine’ as the rest of the team calls her. She simply doesn’t have the heart for all this. Thema is about to speak to encourage her, but before she can say anything, No.5, stroking No.3’s hair, holds up a hand to Thema to let her know it’s okay—she’s got her.

Thema nods in understanding. She sighs. Pauses for a moment. Lifts her head to the sky while the others respectfully watch her—fist still repeatedly opening then clenching shut. They’re battered, but hope is still in their eyes.

“They need one more key. They suspect it’s with this Sollar person, and seeing The Broker’s—I suppose, ingenuity, and knowing the luck and strength of those two, it probably is with Sollar. They’re most likely right and they’ll most likely get it when they head there. Which means they’re gonna lead us right to Sollar and that’ll be our window of opportunity.”

The team nods in agreement, eyes showing increasing signs of life as they’re reminded of the cards they still hold in this situation. Thema continues.

“The Broker obviously knows we’re tracking him and listening in, and he will try to lead us into trap of some sort, but he will fail. We are strong. Physically and mentally. And most importantly we’re together, and I don’t want us to start messing that up. Not now… Friends. We’re going to get this guy. We’re going to stop those three. We’re going to eradicate the Dark State. We’re going to put the colonies in their place. Then, when all’s said and done, we rest and learn how to live for ourselves.”

No.3 stands back up with No.5 helping her. No.4 and No.2 place their hands on her shoulders in support while they all give Thema their full attention.

“Let’s heal up first, then using the coming days that we have left to prepare. It probably won’t be much, but I know how bad we need it—and deserve it. The techs back home will be listening to alert me whenever they finally get word of Sollar’s whereabouts. Then we move. No hesitation! They'll want us to get there for their trap, but were going catch them off guard by going there immediately before those three can take control of this situa-”

Just then, an alert on her wrist gauntlet goes off. Thema is taken aback and confused, but she puts two fingers to her ear to listen. When done, she looks up at the team, not doing a good job of concealing the concern in her eyes. They know…

No.2, always the heart of these four, tries to stand up straight and strong, but his weak stance shows how injured he is. He follows up with by giving her a weak smile of assurance. She knows what they have to do. Well played, Broker.

The thunderous drum strikes once…