Callisto

For you (pt. 1)

The elevator's droning buzz was the only sound that passed between the three individuals confined to its tiny, whitewashed chamber.

He scratched behind his ear awkwardly. He was done with jests. Wit wasn't going to serve him here. Today, silence would be his companion – that killjoy that follows the bland—the sheep.

He risked a look up at the scarred one. He knew he'd been staring down at him like he always did. He met that gaze, and neither of them broke their composure. There was nothing but hate there, the kind of emotional resonance strong enough to bleed into reality. The other soldier in the lift coughed involuntarily.

Jespar's ears popped as the lift thundered up further than he'd ever been allowed access. And he felt something close to excitement – here he was, hurtling through the throat of the world, rising from the bowels he'd been confined to since he was old enough to remember. His haunches rose as the distance increased. This height was disorienting. And, coupled with the scarred one standing right behind him, he felt a sense of nausea in his gullet.

This all came to a thundering climax when the metal box suddenly shuddered to a grinding halt, and its gates flew open to show him the world above ground.

He couldn't keep his eyes open as the above light streamed through the doors, slowly revealing a desolate, barren land of dust. It was like a curtain of radiance was instantly pulled from his eyes and the beauty and hope he'd had for this world that Nicole had told him once harbored so much promise and potential instantly vanished. It was as dead as the eyes of the soldiers that traversed its dunes. He heaved a heavy sigh and strode into the world beyond the bunker.

The only light that truly shone out here was standing in front of the metal monstrosity on the helipad, shooting him a cheerful but weary smile.

"Get the girl ready," the scarred one said behind him to the man at his right. "Strap her in tight. You should be good at that."

Jespar sensed the smile between the two men, and his lips peeled back to reveal his fangs out of pure instinct.

He felt the hand of the scarred one on the back of his head. He kept him still while the other man restrained Nicole, handcuffing her left hand to the rails of the chopper's inner chamber. His eyes lingered on her too much after the fact, fingering a strand of her blonde curls.

Jespar tried to still the rage burning in him.

"Sit tight, boy," the scarred one whispered, gripping his back tightly. "She'll be fine as long as you cooperate."

He looked up at him now, letting his rage pour from his eyes. He saw little to no reaction from the man towering above him, his bald head blocking the surface world's dying sun. As far as he could tell, this man enjoyed seeing his hatred. He'd always enjoyed seeing it.

"You'll be a good boy today, won't you?" he said, bending down to meet him face to face. "You know what happens if you sniff in the wrong direction. You're a worthless creature. You were put on this earth for what we're about to do, nothing more."

He leaned in close, eye to eye.

He could reach out and trace the scar on that face, like tears of crimson raking across a slab of uncaring stone.

"Don't fuck with me, Jespar," he said. "Because I'll waste her before you."

He slapped him once, hard, across his face. Jespar whimpered but said nothing. Now his eyes told a different story.

He'd remember that moment long after as his weakest. He could have resisted then, maybe ended it all quickly. Maybe gouge out an eye while he was at it. Anything would've been better than what was to come.