XY Revolution

I’m finally dressed in pants again – or leggings at least. With my eye-drops in, my vision is crystal-clear. I keep getting worried about how little I’ve slept, but Derek gave us each those magic sleeping pills we had at Home Base, which double the energy you gain from sleeping. In our special case, the pills will actually triple our energy. It’s just dangerous living off no sleep for too long, but the pills are perfect for missions like this.

I have the rifle set up all ready to go, the needles full of Robot Serum loaded carefully into the cartridge. There’s a box next to me, with several other cartridges also ready. The guys have actually removed the window pane, and the wind up on at the thirty-fifth floor is something terrible. But the light is perfect – the sun is rising behind us, casting shadows on this side of the building.

“0500 hours, Freya. You ready?” Travis murmurs through the howl of the wind.

I give him the thumbs up and then line up my first shot. A breath in, a breath out. Guy on the corner closest. Pull the trigger. Clean shot.

“And he’s online,” Derek says.

I can hear the smile in his voice and it gives me that little confidence boost to keep going. Xander just watches how every one of my shots hit their mark. Derek’s watching them all come up on the screen, but Travis; it’s Travis’ eyes I can feel on me. It’s like he’s waiting for me to crack.

“Time?” I ask about halfway through.

“You’re six minutes in.”

“Only six?” My lips curl into a smile. “Plenty of time.”

One, two, three more come online.

Before long, I’m lying in wait for the runner. The men on the other side of the central room were harder to hit, but this gun is a feat of engineering. I got them too. It’s just this sucker left on this roof.

The door then opens and my heart stops. Breath in and a breath out…my finger squeezes the trigger.

“Got him,” Derek says and then closes the lid of the laptop.

He passes it to Xander, before picking up another and standing with Travis. My hands are already dismantling the rifle.

“Okay, you have your orders. Good luck everyone,” Travis says simply, and then they leave.

Xander turns to me and asks, “You ready?”

“Let’s hope I haven’t gotten rusty,” I joke, placing all the parts in the case and then we leave the room.



I’m halfway through the third roof when things start to change. A runner arrives, looking red in the face. He’s ready to shout when I shoot him. Xander and I share a look of relief. Otherwise, it goes off without a hitch. We have two-hundred guards on rooftops under our control.

“All done,” I say.

I’m cramping all over and I’m not sure if I’ll ever regain use of my trigger finger but it will be worth it, I’m sure.

“Great job, Freya. Now go clean yourself up and get ready. The real work’s about to begin, unfortunately,” Xander says with a worried frown on his face.

I sigh.

“Of course, how could I forget?”

I’m grateful for the quality plumbing in this building when I step under the hot water. If things don’t go as planned, this could very well be my last shower ever, and I don’t plan on wasting this opportunity. I lather Kevin’s specified shampoo onto my hair and a sweet fragrance carries through the steam.

I know it’s only a matter of time before Xander’s knocking on the door, telling me to get a move on, but I’m just starting to feel human again. I don’t look like myself, some bronzed up, blue-eyed, perfect blonde, but at least the curves and angles alike are in the same places. My fingers automatically creep up to my back, but only meet disappointment when they don’t fall into the indents in the skin.

The shampoo foam drains away and gets between my toes on its way to the shower floor. If I die, I’ll die clean, smelling absolutely amazing. But that rapping of knuckles on the door still comes too soon.

“Freya! Come on, we have to leave in ten minutes,” Xander calls.

I groan and then call back with a, “Fine! But the next time you get to enjoy a shower, I’m going to pull a fire alarm!”

Nevertheless, I turn the tap off and wrap myself in one of the building’s plush towels, which feel like velvet against my skin. I’m definitely going to miss all this finery for sure, but there’s that comfort of knowing that this is all still a novelty; that I’ll be able to return to life in the communal bathrooms, and my standard issue single Resistance bed.

I blow-dry my hair before twisting it into Kevin’s ordered bun, and get changed into a cream-coloured dress. The bodice is tight, but padded with bullet-proof protection. The skirt is breezy as well, should I need to be able to move in a hurry. The heels I’m to wear are shorter than all the others I’ve worn, but they also have a lot more blades hidden in them. If I tap my big-toes together, knives will slide out from the front platform. There’s also a cyanide pill concealed in the buckle, in case I’m captured. It’s not like I’d have a whole lot of information to contribute, but it’s more information than the Resistance would like, that’s for sure.

“Shall we?” Xander asks with a smile and I take his arm.

“Did you deal with the gun?”

“The acid dealt to it just fine without my help. It’s on the kitchen bench – just a nice surprise for whoever decides to come in here. Just hold your breath till we’re in the hallway.”

He opens the bedroom door and I halt my breath for a moment, holding my hand over my nose and mouth. Even with the contacts in, my eyes are watery with the strength of the acid’s presence. When we burst into the hall, my desperate lungs suck in as much air is possible, and I choke a little on it all.

“Alright, good luck, Freya,” Xander says.

“And to you,” I reply, and then we step into the elevator.



The breakfast room is just as ornate as the ballroom was last night, but much smaller, and lit with much more natural light and no crystal chandeliers. The tables are closer together, with fruit bowls as centrepieces and gold-embroidered napkins. Michaels is already seated when we walk in.

“Alexander! Chastity! How nice to see you at such an early hour,” the man exclaims.

He looks like he’s been up for several hours, dressed in a fine beige waistcoat and trousers. He looks like he got as much sleep as I did, just without the Resistance’s special pills.

“Chastity is an early riser,” Xander groans before plonking himself down in the chair next to his father.

He plucks a perfectly red apple from the fruit bowl and bites into it. I can actually hear the crunch of it, despite the clanging of silverware and constant hum of chatter from other diners. The juices run down his chin and my stomach growls just looking at it.

“Good for you, Chastity. You might teach my son some good habits yet,” Michaels says with a careful wink.

I seat myself as gracefully as possible and Michaels fills my glass with chilled orange juice. I only ever have orange juice at Gran’s, so my eyes are as wide as goblets.

“That’s orange juice, my dear, try it.”

Of course, most people my age haven’t even tasted an orange. I raise the glass to my lips and my mouth is immediately filled with the gorgeous, citrus flavour. They’ve left the pulp in, to my delight – this really is just like Gran’s.

“This is delicious,” I say in awe.

“I’m glad you like it, my dear. I prefer a good strong coffee myself, but the orange juice is rather excellent.”

“Vodka mine up, Dad,” Xander jests, earning him an eye roll.

“It’s not even eight in the morning. A real man does not drink till the afternoon.”

“Real men are boring.”

I jump into the conversation before this elevates out of control. There’s a prominent vein in Michaels’ forehead, literally pulsing at the moment. Oh, we’ve definitely pissed the head of security off with that stunt this morning.

“Did you sleep well, sir?” I ask sweetly.

“I did not, unfortunately. There were a few work-related incidents this morning that I had to take care of.”

His mouth is in a grim line and I raise my eyebrows, trying to put as much genuine surprise in as possible.

“Was anyone hurt?” I ask.

“No. There were just a few idiots that needed firing.”

I giggle and say, “Well that’s a relief!”

“Having hired idiots isn’t exactly a relief, my dear. It makes a man doubt his decisions.”

“I’m certain your other employees are a credit to you, sir. There are bound to be a few bad ones in there somewhere. Out of the massive amount of men you command, it is only human that there is a small percentage letting you down. And you can crush them,” I say with a sly look.

“It just takes one to tip the scales, and destroy everything we’ve worked for,” he responds, meeting my gaze with an icy-fire behind his eyes.

“Wouldn’t that be a pity?” I can’t help but say all too cheerily.

“Indeed, it would.”

Suddenly, a man rushes over to our table, red-faced and panting. He whispers frantically into Michaels’ ear and Michaels’ expression becomes full of rage. It’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

Xander takes that moment to reach across the table, and take my hand. I feel the slightest weight in it when he pulls away. I look into it in my lap – an earpiece. I quickly reach up and push the bud into my ear. I nod to Xander when it’s in.

“Freya!” Travis’ voice is one of relief, but I can hear the speed of his voice, the hushed tone. “We’ve got it, we’ve killed a few but we must’ve missed a camera or something. We’re running now to security building A, okay? Be on the roof in ten minutes.”

“Excuse me, I must attend to some serious matters,” Michaels informs us and my eyes grow wide.

“No!” I command loudly. “You can’t.”

“Excuse me?”

His eyes glare at me as he stands. He’s so much taller than he seems sitting down. I too get to my feet, and in doing so, I stab the informant with the blade that was attached to my outer thigh, clean through the chest. He collapses, dead.

It all happens very fast then, Xander makes a grab for his father and I tap my toes together. I hear the blades slide out and then I kick Michaels in the shin. He shouts with pain as the blade sinks into the flesh, nicking the bone no doubt.

“You aren’t going anywhere. No one is,” I say, Xander and I using all of our combined strength to put Michaels back in his seat. “Tie him up with the table-cloth. I’ll stab him again if he moves.”

I move within an inch of Michaels’ face and tell him, “Don’t think that I won’t. I’m not supposed to kill you, but I will if you give me reason to.”

“I told you,” he sneers, “You are too smart for my son.”

With that, I pull out the gun. Several people are running for the doors at either end of the room, but I’m so much faster with the handgun. Six of them are dead before they even hit the floor.

“If anyone else tries to leave, you’ll meet the same fate!” I shout at them. “Take your seats, now. Move, and you die.”

They’re all paralyzed for a moment, but they then slowly sink back into their places before the chaos. I immediately discard the thought of shooting any of the females in the room. They’re all wives after all. I’m not sure how many chose to be wives, and how many were forced after the Revolution.

The men are a different story.

I have four shells left in this cartridge. I kill the first four men I see. Women shriek and scream, but this has to be done. If I can kill even one Chess Piece here today, it’ll all be worth it.

I load up my next cartridge and continue. Meanwhile, Xander is still fumbling with the table cloth.

“Freya, we have to go soon,” he yells.

“I’ll just finish up here,” I respond coolly.

I just don’t expect the next shot, because it doesn’t come from my gun. There’s a large thud and Xander is on the floor, bullet clean through the head. I first look to his father, but Michaels’ eyes are as wide as mine. Then I see him, a man I haven’t got to. Yet.

I don’t know why I don’t just shoot him, but that primal urge to feel the life of this man leave at my own bare hands is intoxicating. I leap across the room, bullets tearing the air around me, miraculously missing every time. I knock the gun from his hand with a swift kick to the wrist, and then I’m on top of him.

He’s an older man, probably in his late fifties, and my hands are around his throat. I’m not strangling him though. I’m just using his neck to bash his head against the back of his chair. I can hear, and I can feel when his skull caves in.

When I stand up, it’s to step up onto the table, and I let loose on the remaining men. All but one. And I really don’t care, because all I can see is the body of my friend on the floor, in a pool of his own blood. There just aren’t enough people in the world to kill in this moment.

“He was in the Resistance,” Michaels chokes and I jump down, walking over to him.

“Yes.”

“My own son…I never knew.”

“Maybe you don’t know people as well as you think you do,” I tell him.

He barely sees me right now. The man’s face is ghostly pale, and his crystal eyes are void. I can feel the slightest bit of blood spatter on my face, and I know there’s more on my dress.

“I knew you were dangerous.”

“You’d have to be an idiot not to know that.”

Just as I leave though, I stop and say, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

He dips his head and then I start to run.



Just to get out of headquarters is a constant alternation between reloading my gun, and killing people. I don’t even try to gloss over what I’m doing. I’m not just shooting people, I am killing them. I can feel it in my bones. I can feel more relief with every shot. I am reducing the threat. The more people I kill, the less the chance is of me dying, and right now, that’s what matters most.

The helicopter has already landed. I can hear its blades whirring and feel the wind stirring in unnatural ways. I don’t know how I’ve even gotten outside, but there’s time to ponder how the hell I’m alive when we’re a hundred miles away.

When I run into Security Building A, I’m greeted with the sight of blood. The workers here are all dead, with either bullets to the head, or their heads twisted one-eighty degrees. With a pang, I realise how truly deadly Travis is. The field is where he really gets to show off. When we get back, I’m going to learn how to do that.

I rush into the staircase, meet some more blood, and start the ascent. I’m nearly to the point of wheezing when I reach the top. It’s all I can do not to cry when I see Travis and Derek hanging out of the helicopter with their guns, shooting every so often – at what, I don’t know.

“I’m here!” I scream, and sprint across that final leg.

The rooftop guards are all placid, facing away from all this, and it’s so bizarre, like the eye of a hurricane. I hate to think how many of them will be imprisoned or killed for something that wasn’t their choice, but at the same time, they work for them and I can’t bring myself to start feeling sympathy. If I do, it’ll be the death of me – by whose hands, I do not know.

I drop my gun on the concrete and clamber up into the helicopter, Travis pulling at the back of my dress in an attempt to help. The moment I’m seated, I let the black swallow me whole.