The knowledge of site 76 being decimated and torn to pieces made Sooha's chest heavier. It hadn't even been a week since Luke died, and now everything tied to his past life was dead or gone.
All the patients he had healed. His clinic. The kind Hispanic woman from the cafeteria…
He swallowed the grief, stepping into the elevator.
The woman who had questioned him the day before greeted them politely now, slightly bowing to Damien as he passed by.
He didn't bother greeting her back.
It was all theatrics anyway.
"Do I need to bow too?" Sooha muttered.
Damien only scoffed and picked up the pace.
Once they were in the car, Damien spoke.
"We need him to give us approval for the military action. I can form the team, but he has to approve dispatch… It's one of the reasons I'm taking you because he won't care about site 76 being destroyed or the other silent cities."
He tugged on his black leather gloves and adjusted the visor cap marked with Elysium's crest and the insignia of the Marshall Prime.
He felt different in his uniform to Sooha, less Damien, more Elysian. The man from last night, who let his emotions get the best of him at times, seemed like a stranger.
Now, he felt like he was back in those woods, he felt like he would let Luke die once again.
This version was the Marshall Prime.
It was a title that he was bred for: hold it for as long as it was needed, and then, once his father was gone, become the councilor, fully shaped to his Father's design.
But the fact that Damien had no wife or children. No legacy of his own already, and he was twenty-four. It made Sooha wonder if he was able to resist his father in that aspect, or was it something else…
Not that it matters to me, Sooha thought.
"I will speak when we meet him," Damien said as the car slowed down. "You just need to be there, even though he knows you are back, because it should be harder for him to say no then."
His voice was monotonous, but the resentment of his father still lingered in his expression. There wasn't much hope in Damien's words.
They entered the building and were met with calculated protocol.
Two guards approached them, and one immediately snapped a bracelet on Damien's arm.
"Sir, can I see some ID?" He demanded from Sooha no pleasantries and fake smiles.
Sooha handed over his holographic ID card.
"This is for safety," the guard said, reaching for his wrist.
"What is that?" Sooha pulled back.
"It's protocol," the guard replied curtly.
"They're variant inhibitors," Damien explained. "They shut down our abilities."
Sooha's eyes widened, and he wanted to protest, but he knew he wouldn't get anything out of it.
The words hit harder than the clasp itself. Sooha wanted to protest, but the cold bite of the bracelet sealed around his skin before he could.
His gift was weak already, but feeling it cut off entirely sparked a gut-wrenching anxiety.
They were then waved through to the elevator.
The building was ancient, centuries old, and it was filled with ornate decor and pillars. Marble tiles echoed under the heels of their shoes, and such wealth and grandeur were indeed reserved for the upper elite.
"Was this a palace before the fracture?"Sooha asked Damien as he called the elevator down.
"Yes, though the monarchy was abolished long before it happened."
"I see, it's a miracle it survived the mutant."
"They chose to restore this city because it was more or less intact," Damien said as the elevator chimed open.
They stepped in, and a heaviness appeared in Sooha's gut — he would soon see one of the men who sold him away.
Still in their gilded offices and positions of power… it made a storm inside of him that he hadn't dared show.
And so the elevator chimed once last time as they reached the final floor.
With heavy steps, as if they owned the place, they strode down the hall toward the office of the Security Councilor — not knowing they were walking into the belly of the beast.
The office was massive, a repurposed hall of the old palace. A single guard at the door waved them through.
They stepped inside after being greeted by the security guard in front of the office.
The man looked up from his desk, eyed them both up and down, and said with a voice that reeked of annoyance.
"Son, I have work. Be brief."
Sooha stood still, ignored.
"That's it?" Damien snapped. "You won't apologize to him for the life you ruined? For selling him off as an asset?"
Sooha seemed shocked for a moment at Damien's reply.
"He was an asset," his father said flatly. " he brought us out of a tight spot back then. Shame he did not live up to the expectations those poor Syntrum scientists had of him… may they be at peace."
Sooha's eyes widened in rage. Poor scientists? Utter bullshit…
Damien bit his cheek, disappointment shadowing his face once more.
"What did you come to show me?" the councilor asked, leaning back in his chair. "That your lost pet wandered home? Does this mean you'll finally stop sulking and act like a man?"
His tone dripped mockery. "I've never understood what was so special about him anyway." He glanced at a screen. "Two minutes, then I have another meeting."
Damien swallowed through the insults, and Sooha did too.
"I put in a mission request this morning," Damien pressed. "You still haven't approved it."
"Who said I will accept it? This is an utter waste of money and resources… Silent cities, ha, Elysium's farmhouses are larger than those so-called cities, why would we care for them?"
"Father," Damien's voice hardened. "Don't make this harder than it has to be."
At that, the councilor finally gave him a real look. Rage lit his eyes.
"Or what?" he scoffed, voice rising.
Then he rose from his chair and looked at Sooha.
It was as if the room had darkened for the moment when he parted his lips," Kneel."
Sweat prickled Sooha's skin. His muscles trembled under an invisible pressure on his nerves, his knees shook, and then buckled against the marble.
"W-what?" Sooha said in panic as he dropped down, unaware of the Councilor's ability.
"Father, that's enough," Damien said with a strained voice.
"Silence,"
The room went silent, filled with Sooha's groans as he tried to get out of the command.
"It's futile, Swan, now let's see how deep the wolf's loyalty runs." his gaze shifted to Damien.
"Slap him."
He said while taking the whiskey glass off the table and taking a sip, swirling it as if watching a show unfold.
Damien's breath laboured. Panic twisted his face. His hands trembled, sweat forming at his temples. Sooha had never seen him like this.
He couldn't speak, and his whole body was burning, every muscle and nerve fighting against the command.
And Sooha just kneeled in front of him helplessly.
With a soft but steady voice, he said.
"Do it."