Startling to reality, my mind felt fogged and heavy. How long has it been since I had that dream? My tongue was terribly dry, making breathing uncomfortable. My throbbing hands were bound at my back, and I no longer wore the red robe. The belts, bandolier, all missing. Not good. The memory of the scuffle in the dwelling heated my body. Sneaky bastards really knocked me out. Trying to settle down, I scanned my surroundings.

The area was well lit, with long gray walls lined with button panels and black monitor screens. Nearly the same as most bunkers I’d explored. Various cloths bearing the faith’s symbol, two crescents over an uneven triangle, draped over shelves, set this apart though. My prison chair sat at the center, just out of reach of everything.

“Welcome with in the temple.”

I turned to get a look at a white clad man, cradling a light rifle. An inquisitor with that weapon? I can’t believe it. I struggled to read the man’s rounded face. He picked up my confusion and his thick lips twisted up. “The pontifex wants to see you, but he may take some time,” he said, touching the long barrel to my chin. “You just sit there like the good blasphemer you are.” I yanked against the bonds, finding my feet anchored together as well. I’ll show you blasphemer! The thought echoed in my mind.

The door to our right hissed opened and five people entered. Two with yellow and black garb. Titans’ Wrath members? One masked, the other wore swollen eyes and nose. They both limped heavily. The other two, white-robed man and woman, their faces held as many wounds and bruises as the others. They were all dragging a roughed-up Jazz. I yelled intelligibly.

The group sat Jazz straight across from me in a chair. His enormous chest no longer covered with the blue reflector gear. One inquisitor hurled a cup of liquid over him, and he jolted upright. “Get off me,” he bellowed, spitting and coughing, yanking against his restraints. I tried to call him again. He paused with a blank expression. A large bleeding gap in his upper lip dripped as he focused swollen eyes on me. “Ex? The hell are we?”

I shrugged and garbled through the stuffing. How had they captured Jazz? There was little time to contemplate before the door slid open. Owls sauntered in. Black robe waving, followed by a half dozen inquisitors and the throne barer from Star Light Rise. A bruise that matched my boot sole on his abdomen. That’s the voice I recognized! I fought at my binds again, suddenly disappointed at being brought down by a frail-looking moon worshiper and some backstabbing heathens. What is going on? They are with the pontifex? Owls laced his fingers and watch my struggled. I sought once more to spit out the combat command but couldn’t with my plugged mouth. He noticed and let out a low, gravely chuckle.

“Are you quite done, boy?” He stared with coal-black eyes.

How is he even here? He can’t be here! It takes at least 14 days to walk from Starlight Rise! The thoughts lagged through my head, leaving me too stunned to continue struggling.

Owls gave a nod and two inquisitors flanked me, grabbed each of my arms and lifted me to my feet. To my surprise, they cut the ties at my wrist. What are they doing? They held tight as I pulled against them. The one on my right moving my arm between Owls and me.

“Leave the kid alone, you bastard!” Jazz yelled. The shoulder end of a light rifle smashed in the side of his cheek and again, his body went limp. Wake him up to knock him out? The hell is going on.

“You heathens have no respect, do you? Living in exile away from Deimos’s love makes you rude,” Owls said, looking the H.A.G over. I worked to yank free, but the Inquisitor gripped tighter.

“Human. Augmenting. Gauntlet. One unique piece of equipment left behind; wouldn’t you say child?” Owls traced his thumb over the letters. Each word he spoke sent ice through my veins. What? The corner of his mouth pulling into a grin, he moved his fingers and tapped against the shiny steel. A thin line of green light shown the length of the device.

“HAG interface active, user options available,” the female voice said.

My throat felt rough. I had seen this before, years ago, when I’d slipped the thing on my arm. The memory washed over me, swirling into confusion. I touched every inch of it since then, trying to get it off. How did he do that? Augmenting gauntlet? Questions burned and my chest grew tight. I glanced at Jazz. He was still a limp body behind Owls.

“Let’s experiment, shall we? Owls said, removing his hood. An eerie smile crossing his thin lips. “HAG-.” He said, paused, then gestured to a cleric I hadn’t noticed. They exchange hushed words.

“Aw yes, HAG, maintenance command three, three, two one.”

“HAG maintenance and adjustment command excepted.”

Stunned, my body trembled. The H.A.G had never spoken to anyone other than me since the day I found it. What was going on? The few scraps of information I owned didn’t talk about this.

“HAG, release position.” Owls broke me from my reprieve.

“User command only.”

His eyes narrowed, but the grin didn’t change. He looked slightly more quizzical. “Command override, three six four two,” He said.

“Grade two override options available.”

“Splendid, HAG release position.”

“Insufficient override level, user command only.”

Nausea overwhelmed me as Owls circled, saying commands I’d never read or thought of. The devise continued responding with “user command only.” He shouldn’t know anything. This is impossible. Betrayal stung at my core, the H.A.G suddenly ignoring my existence for sake of a mutual enemy. The very thing that ruined everything else, again revealing its cursed nature. How could I not locate what he had? Tears brimmed, and my teeth gripped the gag. This was like a terrible dream. Worse than memories, things were crumbling around me all over again.

“Ah ha,” Owls’ voice pulled me back to the now, he clapped frail looking hands. His last command lost in my stressed stupor. What now?

“Set restriction time?” the female voice was saying.

“Set restriction for 18 megacycles.”

“Parameter excepted. Augmentation restricted until three oh seven Martian rise, eight, six, thirty-nine forty-four,”

“Close options.”

“Options closed, override terminated,” the voice said, and the green light faded.

“Well, it seems I have sated the demon for now. You will be much easier to handle, you unclean wretch,” Owls said, adjusting his robes. He nodded, and they yanked the gag away, leaving the coppery taste of blood in my mouth.

“Screw you, moon loving freak,” I said, spitting and fighting the men still holding me. Screw this if I’m going to kill. I’ll start now! “HAG, combat enhance!” I fought as I spoke the command, planning my attack. The familiar cold didn’t come. There was nothing. The heathen with no mask sank a fist below my ribs, forcing air from my lungs. What’s happening? Smack! A sharp pain streaked across my face as Owls slapped me with thin fingers. I cringed, then my captors stretched my arms apart painfully.

“Yes, much more convenient to handle.”

“So, you going to kill us now? What good will that do you?” I said through gritted teeth. Trying to keep fear from cracking my voice. Sweat dripped from my chin.

“What does it matter? I can kill you simply because I am pontifex! I am blessed by Deimos with authority overall, and that includes you wretched blasphemers,” Owls spoke, a sharp edge in his voice.

“Deimos? What a joke, you have been delving in the ancient technology. That’s a taboo and all your sheep will know it,” I answered pointedly.

“The world is changing, child. Blasphemers are outnumbering the righteous. I can’t allow them to steal the sacred land from us. The gods have spoken and given me the strength to use the demons of the past to lead my flock. So, I started with your demon, boy.” He pressed a finger against my head. I fought the urge to bite at it.

“What the hell do you mean? What did you do to the HAG?”

“I put it, The HAG, to sleep it seems. Go on, speak to it again.”

Sucking a breath through my teeth and glaring. Owls steepled his fingers at his stomach and stared back, features stilling to stone.

“HAG, current time stamp.”

“Twelve fifteen Martian fall,”

The voice answered as it always did, and a surge of hope filled my chest. Owls’ eyes widened as he stepped back.

“Hold him, you fools,” he spoke, snapping his fingers

“HAG, combat enhance,” I yelled, pulling against the men. No sensation, no abnormal strength aided my muscles. Owls’ face washed to calm. The corners of his mouth turning up.

“As I was saying, the gods have given me what I need to deal with heathens like you.”

I couldn’t make sense of it. What was happening? I heard what the H.A.G said but didn’t understand. What military tool would have a restriction on the person stuck with it.

“What do you mean, heathens like me? I just saved you from these goons,” I snapped. I needed to focus on a single emotion, and the fire in my veins seemed like a good bet.

“These are brothers recently coming back to the faith,” Owls said, there was an ugly chuckle from the masked heathen. The other looked more awkward. Owls didn’t seem to notice. He just stared down his hook nose at me. A smile stretching his papery face. “You did not save me; she was there to kill this gibbering oaf.” He kicked Jazz’s limp leg. “You being there is what caused the miss hap. You are not as skilled as this one, no. But the relics you carry make you a slightly formidable thorn, I suppose.”

I stiffened, thinking back to the sniper, unable to hit the bulk of Owls’ party in the open. It should have been obvious, but she had taken down a couple of white robes. “Why kill us?” I asked. “You sought us out?”

“You see, Ex,” Owls grimaced as though my name tasted poorly, “long before my predecessor died, the gods chose me. They made clear to me the value of things left on this planet. It was the gods’ will,” He spoke, walking to the wall and began pressing buttons and flipping switches.

One screen lit up, showing a crowd kneeling. Only a single man in a vibrant red robe stood. He approached a small child. Handed her something, then stepped away. The picture skipped and showed the man walking about, looking at by-wheels. Running to a dwelling, then carried out by a mob a minute later.

Realization set in as I watched. How did he do this? Owls flicked a few more switches. The screen winked out, then lit again. This time showing a circle of pillars, two men working their way closer to a stack of crates as sparks and beams of light flew about.

“How did you do this?” A dry throat made my voice weak.

“I didn’t need to do anything. The technology left here,” Owls said, gesturing around the room with a wave, “designed to run forever, without a man’s touch. Just like you and the other filth, I merely made use of it. Something no pontifex has dared do. I am chosen to bring us closer to Deimos by taming these demons. My brief experiment at Starlight Rise was to see just how affective these artifacts can be. I wasn’t disappointed.”

Owls pulled open a small cabinet nestled into the wall. From it, he brought my contender pistol. He ran his fingers up the barrel, over the grip and trigger. And with a bit of fumbling, he opened it.

“Knowledge is power, is it not, child? For instance, I know this artifact. Thompson contender. Made first in nineteen sixty-seven. Production ended twenty-one twenty, over a hundred years before man came to this planet.” Owls sat the weapon in a flat spot as he spoke. “Oh, and its caliber is forty-five by one hundred ten.”

My head was swimming. As a child, they taught me that the moons were responsible for all Martians’ existence. I knew differently now, but he shouldn’t. He openly spoke of man’s travel from earth to mars, even the relics being made there. Something The Way Of Deimos denied at its very core.

Owls seemed satisfied. I couldn’t muster more than a blank expression. He wasn’t ignorant. In some ways, he sounded more well versed in history than Jazz. I groggily watched as he paced around me.

“So, to bring the brothers and sisters up to speed-,” Owls stopped then looked at me, “off topic. Did I mention Grail had your parents raptured? I assume that’s what brought you here.” His eyes narrowed to slits, and his smile stretched. “loyal as they may have been to Deimos, their blood had to be tainted, with you and your wretch sister being drawn to the demons.”

My body reacted before I realized it. I yanked one arm free and clawed for the pontifex, growling animalistic, but the battered heathens joined the fray. Several hard blows to my face and back broke my resolve, and I surrendered to my captors. Somewhere in the commotion, Jazz regained consciousness. He watched with a bewildered expression.

“What’s going on, Ex? Hey, get off him!”

“Ah, yes Jazz. I was just explaining to this exiled filth your role in the future of this civilization,” Owls said. He walked over and rambled on. Telling of his years of study guided by the gods. That Jazz was chosen for his prominence outside the settlements. In closing, rapturing us, or more specifically me. He could use the strength of my demon to subdue others. It was all cult nonsense. I slumped, letting the inquisitors support me. The H.A.G felt impossibly heavy in that moment. A useless and now traitorous curse. When had I become so dependent on something I hated so much?

“It has been some time since the congregation has seen heretics burned at the steel pike. And I can use you and your demon to prove my unyielding control over all, through the grace granted me,” Owls continued to speak, but it became soundless. My head couldn’t take any more and I sank into black.