Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
The Syndicate - Prologue. Prologue
The fire had almost reached the roof by the time Sarah arrived on the scene. Thick, foul smoke cascaded through an open window on the top floor, giving way to hints of orange as the heat sucked in air from the street. From somewhere deep within the building, a crash rang out.
“Damn it, I hope I’m not too late,” she cursed at herself, disappointed that the police scanner had taken so long to pick up on what was fast becoming a major blaze. A crowd of tenants clustered on the opposite street, staring up at the building in a terrified stupor. They huddled together, many of them with ash smeared faces. Some softly cried, and elders comforted the children whose panicked sobs rang out in the night air. Their cries matched the wails of the sirens still far --too far-- off in the distance.
“Is everyone accounted for?” Sarah called from the middle of the road. The helmet she wore projected her voice out to them through a tinny speaker at the front. The sound was modulated, giving her a neutral synthesized tone that gave away neither her age nor her gender. It was a recent modification to her gear, one that seemed to have positive results. Try as she might, she could never shake the childish qualities of her voice. Citizens seemed to feel more at ease when they didn’t know how young she was.
A woman stumbled from the crowd and pointed up towards the building. “I see a shadow in one of the windows! I think that’s Mrs. McConnel’s place.” Sarah followed her trembling finger and saw what appeared to be a figure inside one of the apartments. The woman frantically looked towards the others. “Has anyone seen her?” A horrified murmur rippled through the crowd as they realized that a neighbor was missing.
The heat from the blaze blew out a set of windows low in the building. The people screamed as bits of glass showered the ground. Sarah turned once again to the apartment complex, and the computer in her helmet began to analyze the scene. An x-ray representation of the structure sprung forward on the viewscreen in her visor, giving her a comprehensive look. Bright yellow heat indicators flashed through multiple floors, and she could see dark spots indicating debris and blocked passages. Her view stopped at the apartment the woman had pointed to. A small heat signature, far less prominent than that of the flames was tucked away in the far side of the room. The fire had yet to reach that corner of the apartment complex, but it was only a matter of time.
Sarah sprinted towards the fire escape on the side of the building closest to her. An electronic hum in her boots engaged as she jumped for the ladder, sending her up high enough to grip the lowest rung. She swiftly pulled herself up and climbed the many flights of metal stairs, pausing just long enough at each landing to scan for people in the building. It appeared that the only signs of life were farther above her in the apartment belonging to Mrs. McConnell. She reached the window of the unit and hit the center of the pane hard with her shoulder.
The glass gave away and Sarah rolled into a dark living room. The electricity in the apartment flickered, casting the room in sudden, inconsistent bursts of light. Tendrils of smoke curled under the front door as the fire licked it’s way closer. A quick look at the room showed that it was empty, but static interference buzzed on the helmet’s viewscreen, preventing Sarah from scanning any deeper. She smacked the side of her helmet in frustration. The new parts she had integrated hadn’t had the opportunity to be field-tested yet, and they were failing her.
“Mrs. McConnell!” Her voice rang out in a metallic echo across the empty room. There was no reply. The static in her view screen buzzed until she reached up and switched off the computer. Sarah’s eyes adjusted to the light as she slowly made her way to the nearest doorway.
The kitchen was empty, along with the small bathroom at the far end. “Mrs. McConnell, I’m here to help!” Again she called out to no response. The smoke continued to creep under the door but was now filling in from all sides. Crackling noise from the hallway could be heard. There wasn’t much time left. Sarah ran back to the living room and stopped at a closed door at the other end of the space. It must have been the bedroom. She gingerly touched the knob checking for heat and pushed the door open.
The room was dark, save for the shadow of flickering light that stretched inside when Sarah opened the door. She tapped the side of her helmet and illuminated the headlamp that stretched across the top above her visor. The thin beam cut through the dark and landed on a bed in the middle of the room. Sarah immediately spotted the figure tucked safely under the covers.
“Mrs. McConnell,” She said softly and winced as her voice modulator broadcast her speech across the room in a loud, computerized statement. It was too cold, too unfeeling for a moment like this. Sarah felt under the chin strap and tugged, removing her helmet. The smell of smoke was in the room, and the air was far too warm to be comfortable. “It’s OK,” she said, slowly approaching the bed. “I’m here to get you out of here.”
She reached the edge of the bed and gently put a hand on top of the figure. Her fingers rested on what she thought was the woman’s shoulder. Only her hand sunk into the mass as she touched it. The blankets collapsed onto themselves, leaving an empty bed where the sleeping figure had been just moments before.
Sarah was stunned. She knew that a person had been there. She whirled, trying to make sense of the situation. Her eyes caught a glint of yellow light from the corner of the bedroom. In the moment it took her to register the shadowy figure, it lurched towards her. Sarah screamed as dark, ropey tendrils wrapped around her arms, pinning them to her sides in a vice grip. There was a falling sensation in the pit of her stomach, and the world spun away.
Her screaming continued through the fall until her lungs finally gave out. The last echos reverberated around her. She was no longer in Mrs. McConnell's apartment. It was still dark, but the air was now dank and chill. She caught the soggy smell of wet earth that seemed to fill the space. A cave, perhaps? It didn’t matter, she was still unable to move.
Something moved from across the chamber. The sound was slow and deliberate. Sarah saw the outline a towering figure, but the light from the far side of the room was too low to make out any defining features. It continued to step towards her, a dark hood concealing its face.
“This is the hero?” The hooded figure spoke aloud.
Sarah struggled against her constraints. The shadows themselves seemed to ring at the figure’s words. A searing heat came with the sound, cutting through Sarah’s jacket and deep into her arms.
The figure came close and sharply inhaled. “This one is useless!” The voice was hushed but rose in anger. “She has no abilities, merely fancy tricks and gadgets!”
Despite everything about the situation, a flush of anger flared in Sarah’s cheeks. She had managed just fine without powers, no matter what the official agencies might think. Why was this important? And how did this person even know?
“We need innate abilities if we want to turn the tide, and this won’t do at all.”
The hooded figure turned away from Sarah. Her bindings vibrated in what she perceived to be frustration. Whatever had happened to her had not gone according to plan. Perfect. Now she just needed to find a way to escape.
“Dispose of her,”
The voice rang out across the empty cave, hanging above them for a moment before fading away to silence. Sarah’s blood turned to ice, and she screamed as the shadow sank into her body and then ignited in pale blue flame.
The pain was excruciating, but only for a moment. Then there was only ash.
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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