Sanctioned 3

Sanctioned 3

…

Commissioned by Ichypa

Wordcount: 1000

…

The moment I noticed Santiago, I gave my Sanctioned a signal. 

Overwatch. 

It meant that I had a plan that I would put into motion, that he ought to only act if the enemy acted, so he wouldn’t disrupt whatever I intended. Given my prior command, which I had him prioritizin’ getting us both of the steel mill, it was likely he’d fall back on that if things went down the deep end. 

Or, if he couldn’t do that, he’d rip Santiago apart, even at the cost of his own life.

Dead center in an abandoned steel mill, in the middle of nowhere, and between two superhumans, I was the most likely to walk out alive. Why? Because the two blocks in the same room were more likely to kill one another than me. I almost didn’t believe it. The little lizard hindbrain I had was telling me that I ought to look after myself. 

It didn’t take much for me to tell it to sod off, primarily because I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror if I ran away. It’s probable that I’d prefer looking at nice, low noose than my still-livin’, still-breathin’ face if I did.

But that’s enough self-flagellation. 

There’s time for that later, especially if I fuck up now, and maybe a little less if I don’t.

“Santiago?” He matched the file. Young man. Twenties. Average height. Short hair. Tanned skin. I didn’t need to ask, but a process can cut down on panic. Maybe, just maybe, this bloke had watched enough of the telly to know the correct responses, especially while I kept my hands up and my WMD a few steps back. One could only hope, of course. “Or, do you prefer your moniker, young man?”

I didn’t receive any words in return, but neither did any of his powers come forth. The young man simply continued to sit in the chair, between long-unused vats meant to hold molten steel, and stay quiet. There was the possibility that they were filled with explosives, that he had friends sneaking in the shadows, and that this was going to be a massacre, but I kept walkin’ toward him with my hands raised.

“That’s close enough, Miss.” Miss. That was a good first step. Professional. Calm. Concise. It was delivered without panic, either. I didn’t have to worry about stray shots or accidents. Things that made my job too messy. “Talk from there. No guns. No powers. Just words. Tell me what the government wants from my home, after they left it to die.”

Shit.

Santiago would be dead now, if not for my order.

He’d be dead soon, despite my order, if I didn’t act fast.

“Now, the last few decades were harsh. No one could be everywhere. The retreat from small towns like yours, Santiago, was an unfortunate product of the times.” 

The words were double-sided. 

It put all the blame on the situation, instead of the people who could act during the situation. 

The US had to consolidate its borders, deploy to ensure the world didn’t pass the point of no return, and put together the Sanctioned alongside its whole military. But it was the US. While the rest of the world buckled and broke, they had plenty of tanks, soldiers, and Sanctioned. 

Even covering itself from the rest of the world, the argument exists that it could’ve protected itself within as well as without.

It was unfair, but fairness didn’t matter when you’re alone, surrounded by enemies, and then find yourself hunted down by the world’s boogeymen.

“Retreat? That’s not what it sounded like, since you had so many running or surrendering after the Sanctioned.” Did I expect the regular individual to understand that the only surviving superpower in a new world couldn’t have saved his town? No. Such things were going to be debated by historians for centuries. All I could do now was stay silent after the accusation was made. Regardless, I achieved my goal. I’d received an accusation, a statement, instead of a threat. “Now you’re here to collar me, mask me, and use me like the rest of them.”

If only Sanctioned were criminals with explosive collars, I would sleep easier at night.

“Not so, Mr. Santiago. Our mission here is to deliver a cease and desist order. Cease utilizing your powers, register yourself, and you’re a free man. The government acknowledges, after our investigations, that your case is that of an individual protecting his community.” That was a lie. It wasn’t an open-and-shut case. There were complications. Executions. Shows of strength. Things that Sanctioned were trained to do, cultivated to endure, and… born to handle. A “normal” superhuman that did such things? No. At best, he’d be watched. At worst, he’ll walk into a room filled with Sanctioned. But, I’m a good liar. That’s why I’m here. “Looking over this community will once again be that of the government. For now, it shall be strictly Federal, but the hope is to return to a state-oriented system in the future. Taxes, of course, will only be expected after relief and recovery efforts have been completed.”

By all means, I delivered my lines perfectly, yet I knew something was wrong when Santiago didn’t even consider my words for a second. 

Then, I heard another voice.

“See, Santiago? I told you. There’s the spiel. You decide whether you accept it or not.”

Young woman. Hidden. Near or far? I didn’t know.

“Yeah. You did. I suppose I was a fool to think this was going to end any other way.”

There was no before and after. One moment Santiago was a young man, the next he was a brute composed of metal that was taking in the rest of the steel mill into his body, growing larger and larger, while a young girl’s laughter rang over the screeching of metal being deformed and reshaped. 

It was the worse possible situation. 

I turned to my Sanctioned, but it was already too late.

Santiago and the girl were going to die gruesomely.

A message flashed in the corner of my visor, delivered to me through interfaces from my Sanctioned’s hand with ease of habit.

Death sentences.

//Investigator life in danger. Vigilante classification altered to Unsanctioned. Class 2 Unsanctioned activity detected. Assuming operational control. Restrictions lifted in response to threat.//

Matter folded into itself, until all that remained of the steel mill was a perfect radius around myself and my Sanctioned.  

The rest of the steel mill, Santiago, and the girl hidden in the shadows were compressed into a block of material and man the size of a shed that leaked blood and viscera as it sat on packed dirt.