Chap 102: Voices and Faces

The next morning, while the others made breakfast, Kie led Tee through an open window onto the roof of one of the compound buildings. It was still dark out, and the moon hung faintly in the sky.

“I used to stare at the moon during global curfew from my dorm window,” he said, holding out a hand to help her step over the ledge and onto the roof tiles.

Tee didn’t need the help, but she took his hand anyway. They sat together, staring at the moon and breathing in the cool morning air before Kie spoke again.

“The moon’s beautiful when it’s not hidden behind bars of grille.” Then he went quiet, just gazing at it.

Before things got awkward, Tee asked, “What’s wrong?” She shuffled closer until their shoulders touched.

Without turning away, he said softly, “I’m going to tell you one of my biggest regrets.” He turned toward her but didn’t meet her eyes. “I’m not sure what you’ll think of me after.”

Though they were already touching, Tee managed to inch even closer. Was that the juicy detail she’d been waiting for? She could almost squeal with excitement but stayed composed and supportive.

In a soft, matching tone she said, “Cooper, you can tell me anything. I won’t judge.” She held the hand closest to her.

His eyes lifted to meet hers. “Just to make sure no one else hears…”

Then his voice echoed in her mind. 

“I hope you don’t mind.”

“Will he hear my thoughts—like if I start laughing?” she thought.

He chuckled. “Yeah. But don’t mind that.”

Her eyes widened. “Freck. But what if I—” She stopped herself. “Think clear thoughts.” Her heartbeat quickened. “Crap, you’re hearing everything, aren’t you?”

Kie broke the telepathic link when he noticed her discomfort. “It’s fine, I’ll just make it one-way communication so I can talk to you. But you’ll have to speak out loud for me to hear you.”

Tee sighed.

“I definitely don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he said.

She felt his grip on her hand loosen and instantly regretted panicking. He probably thought she had something to hide. Thank goodness he wasn’t hearing her thoughts anymore. To test it, she made a small joke, and he didn’t react.

“Go ahead, tell me what you wanted to tell me,” she said, tightening her grip around his hand.

Kie turned back toward the horizon, and his voice echoed in her head again. He was about to tell her about the day he got most of his scars—and how he had caused many deaths.

He was 15 at the time and already held the rank of an A-level Mid-Guard trooper. The event unfolded within the shadowed confines of an abandoned, dilapidated medical center. Shattered windows and decaying walls exuded desolation, heightened by dim light and the constant drip of water.

Unusually, the center was not empty. A gathering of Xeno-victims filled the space, their sheer numbers raising immediate alarm. Mid-Guard officials swarmed the area, drawn to the scene like bees to nectar. Naturally, troopers like Kie followed, captivated by the spectacle. He remembered receiving the news via his voice-com and hologram news screens, realizing he was not far from the clinic.

While the general populace avoided the hotspot, Mid-Guard affiliates flocked to it, a testament to their organizational ties. The law forbade taking the life of a Xeno-victim, so the officials resorted to a drastic measure—placing a bomb in the facility. The threat promised to level the building if the Xeno-victims persisted in their ritual.

But the Xeno-victims reacted unexpectedly, even urging the officers to detonate the bomb, seeing it as a favor. They continued their death ceremony, an euthanasic rite steeped in claims of supernatural influence. To the officers, it was just another meaningless ritual. Those individuals were weak, either too terrified to end their own lives or blinded by their misguided pride.

Hours passed as the Xeno-victims carried on with self-inflicted wounds, their cries for death echoing through the air, yet the long-awaited end never came. The initial excitement faded, and news reporters and video drones eventually left in boredom. What had once been a spectacle dwindled into insignificance.

As time dragged on, several seasoned Mid-Guard officials left to get food, knowing that upon their return, more drastic measures would be needed to coerce the Xeno-victims before global curfew. Despite their departure, no trooper questioned it, implicitly trusting their young leadership. Inside the center, only Xeno-victims and young troopers remained, many aspiring to rise through the ranks and become officials themselves.

Amid the montage of memories flashing through his mind, Kie lingered on a trooper named Makkedah, her striking blue eyes leaving an indelible mark. It seemed light-colored eyes held a particular allure for him.

Makkedah, however, was just one of many names occupying his thoughts. Ethera, a fellow resident of his district. Seraphina, known for her big head. Azrael, whom they assumed would become a stripper. Zane, Raphael, Sylus, Thalarael, Linda, Zatni—each name painted a picture of lives yet to fully bloom. Kie couldn’t help but reflect on the cruel irony that those youthful souls would meet their end before their potential could truly unfurl.

Soon, the bomb left behind by the Mid-Guard officials among the young troopers drew everyone’s attention. Rumors that it was a fake began circulating, challenging the officials’ claims of its danger.

Determined to dispel the speculation—and perhaps impress someone special with azure eyes—Kie approached the bomb, moving closer than any other trooper dared. Annoyed by a joke about toddlers being present, he recognized it was aimed at him, the youngest among them. Steeling himself, he resolved to demonstrate the bomb’s insignificance.

His motive was twofold. To prove the weapon was harmless and, in doing so, redirect attention toward their true mission—convincing the Xeno-victims to leave. Success there would earn him major points for his record.

Kie glanced at a camera, a relic left behind by a departing reporter. Encouraged by a fellow trooper’s nudge and brushing off the teasing, he winked playfully at his crush, roughly two years older, eliciting a burst of laughter. Amid the mirth, he pressed the button, activating the bomb.

Laughter vanished instantly, replaced by the anguished cries of the Xeno-victims mid-ritual, their voices merging into a haunting chorus. Observers watched as Kie withdrew his finger, heads shaking in silent judgment. Slowly, the troopers began to disperse, distracted.

Then a sudden scent change alerted Kie. The acrid tang of gas reached his senses. Before anyone could react, a brief spark ignited from the bomb, too fast for the troopers to comprehend. Time seemed to freeze as realization struck. The gas was unmistakable, reminiscent of Priman soldier bombs he had encountered before. Danger screamed in his mind, and he sprang into action.

His movements became almost supernatural, a blur as he outpaced the unleashed chaos. The blast shattered the center, sending splintered wood and twisted metal flying, mingling with bodies hurled by the tempest. The heatwave propelled him through the air. His body crashed, rolled, and finally came to rest.

When his senses returned, Kie’s blurred vision revealed faces gazing down at him. He had survived, but the toll was immense. Many lives—Xeno-victims and troopers alike—had been lost. To some, the sacrifice of troopers was a small price to rid the world of perceived monsters.

Yet that incident wasn’t the darkest of Kie’s Xeno-victim encounters. It was a tragic accident, an unintended consequence of his actions. Kie emerged as the lone survivor from the center’s ruins, his body bearing profound wounds that eventually healed, leaving only scars behind.

During his recovery, he wrestled with guilt, haunted by the idea that he had triggered the bomb. When the Mid-Guard offs confronted him with video evidence—his finger on the fateful button—his world crumbled. The weight of knowing his actions had caused so many deaths pressed down on him.

He knew prison awaited him, a future as a laborer. In a world with a dwindling population, wasting time in a cell was dangerous. Yet the absurdity of it gnawed at him—who would actually place a real bomb there? After all, he was only 15.

In a twist of irony, the Mid-Guard offs brought unexpected approval. Their perspective was jarring but clear. His actions were commendable. Yes, troopers had died, but in their eyes, the ends justified the means. Those “progenies of darkness” had received a fitting punishment. “Kid, you’re a godsend,” they said, patting his shoulder and wishing him a swift recovery.

Kie clung to those moments, feeling valued and cared for. For a loner forced into the Mid-Guard to avoid starving on the streets, validation was rare. In that instant, his ambition crystallized—he would rise to the ranks of a Mid-Guard official. Those who underestimated or abandoned him would ultimately pay.

“So many people died because of me.”

Tee wasn’t sure if he regretted the Xenoids’ deaths too, or just the others.

“It gets worse,” he said.

His mind went back to when he turned eighteen, when his Mid-Guard comrades pushed him to embrace the role of executioner. Those he had been tasked to eliminate accepted their fate. They wore crests and stepped forward, seeking release from their tormented existence.

Late at night, well past global curfew, Kie remembered standing among the cheering presence of his Mid-Guard companions. The image of him holding a sword, poised at the neck of a kneeling person, was etched in his mind. 

The precise thrust would sever brain from body, followed by a swift decapitation. It was a grim task, but necessary. The head had to be removed to stop the viral control that lingered after death. Accuracy and speed were crucial. A mistake could mean a slow, agonizing death for the victim.

Then he shut his eyes and held his head, a sound escaping his lips in pain. Haunting visions surged in, disrupting his resolve. The faces of those he had killed appeared—eyes wide in terror, voices echoing in his mind. One face even bore a chilling resemblance to his mother, a cruel reflection of old wounds. The flood of memories clashed with his intent, leaving him torn.

Tee was afraid to ask if he was okay, knowing he had killed Xeno-victims… or if he was joking.

Breaking their telepathic one-way link, Kie spoke aloud. “The voices, the faces of the dead… I keep seeing them. They won't leave me.”

Seeing tears at the corner of his eyes broke something in Tee. Almost on instinct, her hand gripped his tighter.

He wiped his eyes and turned to her. “You’re not freaked out?”

She leaned closer and kissed him on the cheek. “A bit, but we’re a couple, so we need to share these things.”

When he moved closer to kiss her on the mouth, Tee stood to stop him. “We should head back for breakfast. Don’t want to be late for training.”

Kie nodded. “Right.”