Masses of children, all between the ages of five and six, were crammed into the hall. Holographic projections flickered above their heads, displaying names and class designations. The room itself was pristine—white walls, evenly spaced pillars, a glossy reflective floor, and a ceiling composed of illuminated grid panels.
A man in pitch-black garments stood on the podium, flanked by guards. No skin was visible; even his face was concealed beneath a black mask, with only a stark white beard emerging from beneath it.
My heartbeat quickened.
He was the one.
The one who killed her.
"Welcome to the Orbit—one of the most advanced places in the world, I dare say. I will just go through the must-knows of this place so you don’t make a mistake and get punished. I have already done this before, but for good measure—"
Thud.
I collapsed to the floor, my white locks spilling over my face. My left hand clutched my chest, crumpling my shirt as if trying to hold my heart in place.
He—h-he was the one.
Memories crashed over me, unbidden.
---
Blood.
The smell of iron flooded my senses. My mother was on her knees, pleading.
"Please! Just let him go. He’s just a child—"
A flick of his finger.
The explosion took half her head.
Blood splattered in a triangular arc across the white walls. It was warm when it hit my face.
_Bend the metal._
I had done it after that. I didn’t even hesitate.
---
A hand gripped my arm, yanking me upright.
“Hey, get up. If the guards see you like this—” The girl next to me dragged a finger across her neck, then let her tongue loll from the side of her mouth. A warning.
Above the stage, the man continued his speech as though nothing had happened.
"You cannot die in this place. As long as the metal is glued to your body. But that doesn’t mean you should go around killing each other. Your mental health isn’t inexhaustible. The Coz should still be enough for each person to die at least… well, once."
A coppery taste filled my mouth. I swallowed it down.
"You serve the Council. The Ten Seats."
The loud reverberation of his voice shook me back to reality.
"Starting today, you will learn how to kill an Effector.”
Though his expression was hidden, we all knew he was smiling beneath that mask.
"Dismissed."
He walked off the podium, the guards following close behind. A few steps later, his form shimmered and blinked out of existence.
For a moment, none of us moved. Then instinct took over. Kids in matching clothes grouped together. There were seven distinct colors, but soon, the largest cluster formed around those in green. The smallest? The ones in black.
Like me.
A girl next to me smiled. “You think what they did to you was bad? Try screaming for three days straight while they make you watch.”
I stared at her.
“They didn’t just kill my family and my pet,” she continued with a shrug. “They tortured me too.”
A sharp voice interrupted. “Dee. Stop talking to him.”
A boy, maybe twenty, shoved his hand between us like he was cutting through air. He had patches of facial hair beneath his jaw, a stark contrast to the rest of us.
Why’s he so old? I muttered, stepping back.
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His holographic name glowed above his head: Emeka.
He stepped closer. “You’re new, so let me explain something: I don’t answer questions.”
"What's your name?"
Ogu. But the guards changed it. They said no African names. How come they didn’t change yours?
A sharp whistle sliced through the air.
Didn’t I say no talking?
Something glinted in my peripheral vision. A knife.
It hurtled toward me.
Bang.
The world went white—static, pressure, ringing—then silence.
---
The next breath he took wasn’t in the Orbit.
It was here. Now. The past spit him out, but the taste of blood remained.
His hand was clutching something—not his chest. Crumpled bills, singed at the edges. He tapped them against the bed, steadying himself.
Kane jerked awake, gasping. His heart slammed against his ribs.
The room was dim, dawn barely breaking. His hand tightened around the crumpled bills. He tapped them absently against the bed and sat up.
The copper taste still lingered.
Killer shot.
He ran his tongue over his teeth, eyes darting around the room.
Leaning against the wall near the bathroom, something large, wrapped in plastic, hummed faintly.
He wiped the drool from his mouth, hit the radio on his nightstand, and slumped back into the bed. The mattress gladly received him.
A voice crackled through the radio:
"Breathe in… hold… breathe out. The battle is over, soldier."
Not for him.
He would go to the portals today. He needed to clear his head before the mission.
- - -
He rolled out of bed and went through the practiced motions: checking the locks on the doors, the latches on the windows. The darkness was his ally. No lights.
He stepped out of the shower, water dripping down his body, and stared at the mirror.
Drops traced the ridges of his muscles—no implants, just hardened flesh. The rune mark on his left chest, where the metal coin had once been, had almost healed. Ten years, and still, the scar of the Orbit remained.
His dreads were getting longer, harder to cut—the last time he tried, **the scissors snapped. A surge pulsed through his optics, his iris flickering purple before dulling back to its usual color.
He frowned and reached for the box, punching in a command.
He shoved the body off him, panting. Stared at the blood on his hands. His ribs ached. His knuckles were raw.
The silence pressed in.
He scanned the tunnel’s entrance. Nothing yet. No eyes watching.
_A pause. Then he clicked send._
He turned and reached for the object wrapped in nylon. His left hand tensed under its weight.
It went into the reinforced coffin. With a press of his ring, the coffin itself vanished.
Storage tech. An old trick from the Orbit.
Would he ever go back?
He slid the ring into his pocket.
The door swung shut behind him.
The portals were illegal. Sometimes, he wondered how they had even written the spatial code for it—the only possible explanation:
It had been jammed into the Great Code.
You wouldn’t have Coz to move in it because there were no Atom Gears, so you had to siphon from teleportation rings.
The Dice Festival had begun, so siphoning was easier; they were on 2-4-7.
Not that he cared what Suspended did, as long as they didn’t bother him.
This portal was owned by the newest INTEL in Lagos.
---
Glass panels flickered—coordinates, status updates, countdowns. Warning lights pulsed in sync with distant machinery, a deep, rhythmic thrum. Ten, nine, eight, seven…
There were a lot of people in this small room—not packed, but with a good amount of strange individuals. A particular team caught his attention: a lady with red hair, twins, a balding, short man, and a man in glasses with a big mustache.
He always felt it before they came—the static charge in the air, the shift in pressure. But this time, it was just the portal. Just the jump.
He exhaled.
The man in glasses waved at him, smiling, but the red-haired woman slapped his hand down.
His eye darted across. They weren’t here. Yet.
A tug—deep in the gut, like being yanked through a narrow space too fast for the body to follow. Weightlessness crashed into crushing force, then nothing—no air, no light, no up or down.
A heartbeat later, reality slammed back.
_The terrible places he was always portaled to._
Bang.
Kane landed on muddy ground, bouncing a few times before adjusting his body to a halt.
6:47 AM.
The tunnel was too narrow, too dark, and too quiet. Heavy, storm-gray clouds of smoke drifted across the parched, broken earth, fissures running like veins through the barren land.
His eyes scanned the area—
His mask was on immediately.
_A beast lunged._
One second.
_Move._
Instinct took over. Kane threw himself sideways, breath in ragged gasps, gloves slick with sweat. His boots skidded across the dirt.
Claws raked through the space where his head had been, kicking up a cloud of dust. His mind caught up just in time to see the monster glitching—like it wasn’t fully there. Like reality itself was rejecting it.
It was stained all right. He couldn’t tell if it was sentient, though.
A slow grin spread across his face.
This was the only way to clear his head.
His arms moved—
The beast’s arm moved—
Before his brain caught up.
Their fists met with a sonic bang, the impact echoing in the tunnel cracks, revealing a sickly greenish tint in the walls.
His hand was a little red—a testament to the beast’s strength.
No hesitation.
He threw the coffin down, its buckles at his waist coming undone.
His fists were enough.
The creature twisted, its eyes locking onto him again.
Kane exhaled.
The second lunge was coming.
This time, he was ready.
He moved.
Not away, but into it.
The world slowed.
He saw it all. The beads of sweat at the beast’s temple. The tension in its jaw. He saw the claw coming.
He thought, _Wouldn’t it be nice if I dodged that?_
He didn’t.
The claw hit. It didn’t go more than an inch, but it stung like hell.
Kane’s skull bounced off concrete. His ears rang. He realized, in a dazed sort of way, that the beast was now on top of him, trying to saw his throat open with his damn style.
Great.
Kane grabbed a fistful of its hair and yanked hard.
The beast’s head snapped back, exposing its throat.
Kane punched it. Again.
It didn’t go down easily. Kane had to punch it twice more, kinetics surging through his veins, and even then, it was more of a slow, pathetic slump than a dramatic collapse.
He shoved the body off him, panting.
Stared at the blood on his hands.
His ribs ached. His knuckles were raw.
The silence pressed in.
He scanned the tunnel’s entrance. Nothing yet. No eyes watching.
"Shit," Kane muttered. "Fuck. Thought I dodged that."
Fighting was the only way to flush out XX1 from his blood, to push his body's ability—static to overdrive.
To chase away the memories, too.
He wouldn’t go on a mission in anything but his best state.
