Chapter 6 - Total Blackout
Absolute darkness swallowed the transit lobby in a fraction of a second, broken only by the fierce, emerald pulse emanating from the silver animal pin on Arthur’s jacket. The sudden loss of light was accompanied by a total drop in ambient sound; even the distant hum of the city’s underground subway system vanished, leaving an oppressive, suffocating silence in its wake.
Miller reached out blindly in the dark, his hand slamming against the cold surface of a marble pillar to steady himself. “What happened to the grid? The backup generators should have kicked in instantly.”
“There is no backup for what’s coming,” Arthur’s voice cut through the dark, remarkably calm and steady.
Across the room, the sound of heavy metal scraping against stone betrayed the movement of the tactical operative. A beam of white light suddenly sliced through the darkness from a tactical flashlight mounted on the operative’s rifle, cutting a sharp path across the dusty air. The beam swept across the lobby, finally locking onto Arthur and Miller standing by the central pillar.
“Don’t move!” the operative shouted, his voice echoing loudly in the enclosed space. “Stay right where you are.”
“You’re wasting your battery, son,” Arthur said, not shielding his eyes from the harsh beam. “The grid isn’t coming back until the transaction is complete.”
Miller squinted against the glare, his heart hammering against his ribs. “What transaction? Who are you talking to?”
“The people who own the mortgage on your badge, Miller,” Arthur replied, turning slightly so the green light of his pin cast long, skeletal shadows against the marble wall behind him. “Every officer in this precinct signed a loyalty waiver when they took the promotion. Did you ever actually read the fine print on page twelve?”
Miller swallowed hard, a cold knot forming in his stomach. “That’s... that’s standard municipal boilerplate.”
“It’s a lien on your soul,” Arthur corrected coldly. “And right now, they’re foreclosing.”
Suddenly, the tactical flashlight flickered, its crisp white beam shifting to a sickly, pulsing red. The operative cursed under his breath, frantically tapping the side of his rifle casing as the light threatened to die altogether.
“System failure... local override detected,” the operative muttered, his voice tightening with panic. “Command, this is Unit Four. I’ve lost telemetry.”
No response came through his helmet comms, only a low, rhythmic static that sounded disturbingly like heavy breathing.
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Arthur took two slow steps toward the operative, the emerald glow from his lapel painting the young man’s tactical armor in an unearthly light. “They can’t hear you, boy. The line was cut the moment you stepped off the elevator.”
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