Chapter 33: Ray Dawn

Ray Dawn sat cross legged in the security booth. His eyes where closed as he drowned out the background noise from Rafinya and his lackeys, pacing around the tiny space, making calls to keep the council informed. His main focus was on controlling the mini-network of droids that remained functional after the breach.

Ray Dawn sighed, a content sigh, a sigh he could rarely express. And a genuine smile threatened to flick onto his face despite his best efforts to remain tranquil.

‘Is this not better?’

Were his ways not more humane?

A dozen mindless droids killed and zero human blood shed. In contrast the council would not have hesitated sacrifice the same amount of cybermages were it not for his efforts.

All the good work he could accomplish if he always had free reign and a small army of droids at his disposal.

‘But the council fears the potential of minion style.’

Too reminiscent of the old empire’s tactics. Rafinya had once told him.

The council and the league corporations who backed them were too paranoid.

‘But those who cling too tightly to power often are.’

Within the prison.

A dozen Ray Dawn controlled droids trailed Murakami who had insisted on taking the lead despite the efficiency and disposability of his mechanical troops.

If Ray Dawn was the type to care about others he might’ve said something. Instead he gladly seeded the vanguard to the egotistical Lord Protector.

Their advance was halted by another armoured door. Whoever had control of the tomb’s controls was doing their best to slow their purge.

Murakami raised his obsidian shield littered with constellations.

“Flame on…Incinerate.”

The shield blazed ethereal flames and erupted in a beam of scorching plasma. The door melted in a molten heap, exposing the other side. The translucent flames evaporated and Murakami was about to resume his charge.

“Watch out,” Ray Dawn called out with the urgency of a zoo sloth through one of his droid’s intercom.

The two lead droids on either side of Murakami raised their glass shields.

Murakami paused and managed to raise his shield in time to complete the shield wall and intercept the barrage of makeshift spears – sharpened steel bars.

The spears crashed into their glass shields, unable to even leave a mark and clanked to the floor harmlessly.

“Good looking out,” Murakami said.

‘Use your fucking spectral assist,’ Ray Dawn thought but said. “Pleasure.”

Only now did he notice the prisoners, 30 meters deep into the corridor, a score of prisoner had prepared for their arrival. The prisoners shot back down after the volley and squatted behind a barricade of steel tables.

The prisoners shot up from their barricades again, launched another barrage of spears before ducking back down.

Once more the makeshift spears clinked into the shield wall and plunged harmlessly to the floor.

Without the element of surprise Ray Dawn could truly appreciate how pathetic their efforts were.

‘But at least they’re coordinated.’

Too coordinated in fact. They wouldn’t be able to stop their advance but their coordination meant they were being directed and being directed well considering the limited tools at their disposal.

But why prolong the inevitable?

‘To stall.’

Why stall?

‘To escape.’

Ray Dawn immediately recalled the abandoned hyperloop tunnel plans he’d sold to Broker. A continental transport system built at the height of the old empire. Abandoned when the Scorchedlands spread, the countries fell and restructured into free cities. But parts of the huge network of tunnels still ran underneath certain parts of Gau City.

‘So Broker was plotting a jailbreak through those tunnels.’

The timing was too close to be coincidental.

‘So this is low-key my fault.’

Ray Dawn shrugged helplessly. ‘Well, what’s done is done and as long as it can’t be linked back to me.’

Because it would be foolish for Ray Dawn to allow such unpredictable mistakes to derail all the good work he’d done for the city. This incident with the tomb was unfortunate but cybercrime needed him. No one had the backbone to do what he does.

Besides he was low-key leading the clean-up of his own mess.

Ray Dawn fixed his attention on the barricade. He had the droids ready their shard guns. He would pick off the convicts the next time they showed their faces.

“I’ll take care of this,” Murakami said and suddenly charged with all the bravado of a zoo hippo during mating season.

This seemed to baffle most of the inmates except one arrogant soul who leapt out from the barricades and charged to meet Murakami.

“Flame on!”

The starry obsidian shield was engulfed in ethereal flames.

The large convict’s eyes went wide but his charge remained resolute. The inmate lunged forward and jabbed his charged sick-stick.

Murakami pushed his flaming shield forward. The two clashed coming to an impact stop.

It initially looked like a stalemate but the prisoner’s hand was pressed against the shield, his sick-stick nowhere to be found.

Ray Dawn glanced at the ashes on the floor then back to the inmate’s hand, scorched black and grey. Burnt to the point it looked like it might turn to ash at any moment. Translucent flames kept spreading up the large bloke’s arm.

The convict clenched his teeth yanked back his arm. He looked about ready to flee when Murakami spoke again.

“Explosion!”

The flames on the shield, sucked in then erupted like a controlled detonation and engulfed the inmate in glorious blaze.

When the smoke cleared Ray Dawn tried to make out a body but he could see none. Only more dark ashes scattered across the floor.

‘Was he cremated?’

The rest of the prisoners didn’t have time to be shocked when Lord Murakami’s ominous voice sounded again.

“Flame on!”

The shield lit up again within the halo of ghostly flames. The inmates rose from their barricades and bolted as if realizing the error of their ways.

Murakami took a strenuous step forward and tossed the blazing shield toward the fleeing inmates. It spun threw the air quickly catching up with the prisoners

Ray Dawn listened for the magical word and sure enough it came.

“Explosion!”

The corridor shook violently under the might of the eruption.

Ray Dawn winced at the temperature readings the droids were picking up and was glad he was nowhere near Murakami to witness Blackflame’s power first hand.

“A survivor,” Ray Dawn whispered through the intercom.

He frowned as he watched the surviving inmate get to his feet. The left side of his face— No the entire left side of his body was charred. He coughed, wheezed and was barely able to move at first.

‘Run,’ was Ray Dawn’s first thought.

He wasn’t sympathetic or anything, he just didn’t like the pretentious Murakami have everything go his way.

But the prisoner did something that gained even more of his approval. He hobbled toward the shield, trudging across the smouldering concrete and through the ashes of his fallen comrades.

‘Yes! Yes! Take it,’ Ray Dawn silently cheered.

The astra’s power made Murakami overconfident. It would be an instant reversal if the inmate could use it against him.

‘Looks like tossing your weapon wasn’t the wisest thing to do.’

Even factoring how slow the injured prisoner was moving he was extremely close to the shield relative to Murakami’s position.

‘Take it!’ He almost roared.

The injured inmate picked it up, panting heavily, each breath long and laboured. Ray Dawn couldn’t imagine the pain the convict was in and to be, honest he didn’t care.

The survivor fitted the shield onto his good arm. Glared at Murakami who hadn’t moved.

The Lord Protector seemed unhurried in fact.

“Flame on,” the half-burnt inmate said.

Nothing happened.

“It doesn’t work that way,” Murakami said.

‘It doesn’t,’ Ray Dawn thought.

“Flame on!” The inmate yelled, giving it a shake.

Nothing happened.

Ray Dawn sighed wearily.

‘So it isn’t just voice controlled. There must be some other conditions needed to use it. Some form of bio-coding?’

He recalled a passage he’d once read.

Unless first owned, to exchange an astra is take it off a corpse. – The Encrypted Scriptures, Volume 2 extract.

He’d never understood what it meant, he still didn’t really but it made a bit more sense now.

‘No matter.’

Take the shield and run.

So he can’t use it against you.

Keep it away from him.

Run and hide.

As if they were on the same wavelength. The prisoner opted to run with the shield without further delay.

Even if he couldn’t use it as long as he kept it out of Murakami’s hands.

‘I can conveniently find it later, forget to give it back and take my time to understand its operation.’

A feeling close to joy bent up the corners of Ray Dawn’s lips ever so faintly.

‘All the good work I could accomplish with such a tool.’

The half-baked prisoner bolted. His run was motivated but slow and limped.

An ominous feeling washed over Ray Dawn when Murakami didn’t give chase. The Lord Protector remained unworried.

“Flame on,” Murakami said.

“Argh! Fuck! Shit! Fuck!” The prisoner yelped and pried the flaming shield off his arm.

Like he was psychic. Ray Dawn closed his eyes. Imagined the magic word even before it arrived.

“Explosion!”