Tyrant

(𝟽) 𝙰 𝙿𝚎𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙶𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝

"So you think putting me up for shopping duty is a good decision." 

The tall male in front of me rolls his eyes, probably for the fifth time that day, and strides to the left. A grey, metal desk with multiple large drawers greets him. 

The long, rectangular room we're in is illuminated by equally long fluorescent lamps, extending like blinding snakes from entrance to exit. 

The long bulbs are so bright that a slight throbbing had formed around my temple the second I'd entered the chamber. Wooden doors line the wall opposite the entrance, creating a somewhat eerie atmosphere. The room is windowless.

"You're retrieving sustenance for the Base. I see it fitting for a new, inexperienced member." The man pulls a set of jangling keys out of his pocket—the sound of clinking metal echoes around us, drizzling the long room with droplets of mystery.

Crouching, the man named Darcio unlocks the bottom drawer and pulls out an familiar-looking rectangular device, slightly larger than my palm.

"Fallon could use some assistance." He states simply, and I trudge over to his side to inspect the device between his fingers.

My eyes narrow at the shiny black rectangle. "I understand, but I believe I'm capable of doing something a bit more grueling than getting food from empty, raided shops." I counter, then hold my breath as brute realization kicks in.

"A Receiver." Darcio affirms, tapping the middle of the screen with his thumb, silver rings glinting like stars under the light. I gape as the now-activated screen illuminating many small, neatly organized square-shaped icons.

Darcio presses upon one of those icons and a long list of unfamiliar names pops up, each one located in an individual slot.

He scrolls down, down, down, until an empty slot shows—a keyboard with letters and numbers pops up.

Impossible.

Before I even ask, Darcio speaks up. "Raeyan has her ways of getting the things she needs." His long fingers nimbly type 'Phoenix Arbelle'.

My name shows up in final-looking bold print, and Darcio adds a dash, followed by the word 'Retriever'. 

The fact that my first and last name come to him easily, as though we've been acquainted months, does not go by me.

The fact that Receivers were banned and discontinued fifteen years ago also does not go by me. If anyone, regardless of age, were to be caught in possession of a device, the punishment is execution.

With that law set in place, none dared to use their old devices, or hunt for new ones. 

I wasn't aware that there are any Receivers left—most were destroyed or seized by Enforcers. It seemed Raeyan had managed to snatch one for the Base. When and where, I was unsure. Perhaps years ago, before locating a Receiver had been more common. 

She is really something—whatever she wants, she gets.

With that thought bouncing around, I was suddenly determined to be like her.

"Darcio." I state, his name a foreign spice upon my tongue. His eyes leave the screen to gaze upon me. "I will not be this 'Receiver'. I want to do more, something vigorous, maybe train and assist Raeyan outs—"

"This Position is final." He powers the device off and tucks it back into the drawer. "Can you go a month without food?"

My anger halts like a gazelle caught by a predator, momentarily stunned by his random question. "What?"