eyes that stared out unseeing through the glass, those purple lips stretched across a too-wide face. His flesh gathered in pools around his jaw onto the silver pillow propping his head up.
The Eskimo – the man apparently responsible for the safety of the country – was Benjo Green. The man who had tried to eat me. Twice. The man I’d broken out of ARES to help me defeat Frankie. The man who had held on to his Shifter power by consuming the brains of other Shifters.
What little hair he’d had had been shaved off, and his head was covered in rows of silver electrodes. Only, they didn’t look as if they were stuck on. They looked as if they had been drilled into his skull.
“Is he conscious?” I asked.
“Of course,” Frankie snapped. “If he was unconscious, he’d hardly be able to Fix. We keep him pumped full of amphetamines to make sure of it. But all non-essential areas of his brain have been put into a comatose state. It’s a very delicate balance of chemicals.”
Chemicals. That seemed to be her answer for everything. I thought of the painkillers in my pocket; the ache in my leg was gnawing.
“How does it work?” Aubrey asked.
“The machine” – Vine looked up at the ceiling – “amplifies his brain waves, extending the focus and reach of his Fixing ability.”
Seeing Benjo like this – reduced to nothing more than a cog in a machine – made me realise how Vine and the rest of this reality truly saw Shifters. Not heroes as Zac had said, but tools to be used. Like me and my team. Expendable. And yet, as much as the uneasiness squirmed in my stomach like an eel, I respected it, too. I was as sickened with myself as I was Vine.
“What I am about to tell you is beyond classified.” Vine pulled at a thread on one of his buttons. “You may have heard rumours about a nuclear strike on this country?”
Aubrey and I exchanged looks and then nodded.
“It’s correct. The strike happened in September 2010. We understand,” Vine continued, “that it wiped out the whole of London, killing millions upon millions in minutes. We don’t know who was responsible. Our best bet is that it was an ex-Russian nuke auctioned off to the highest bidder. What we do know is that there was a Shift registered on that day. A Shift that was off the charts. Way, way above even your abilities, Commandant Tyler. From the information our scientists have been able to gather, we have been able to deduce that there was a Shifter on their side. Who, upon seeing the unparalleled death… well, we’re not entirely sure, but we presume they altered a choice that somehow led to the strike. What choice they unmade, we will never know. But we do know that we can’t have them or any other Shifter on their side – on any side – altering the delicate confluence of choices that led to them standing down with the strike. So, Mr Green here stops that strike from happening and ensures that the overall reality in which this country endures stays firmly in place.”
I was unable to take my eyes off Benjo’s sunken face. The man who had been one of the biggest threats to Shifters was now our saviour. “How long has he been here?”
“Three years,” Vine said. “We arrested Mr Green for, well, you don’t need to know the details, other than to say he was given a choice: death by lethal injection or this. He made the right choice.”
I laid my hand on the glass. I hated Benjo. Yet I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He’d become the lab rat he’d always feared.
“And you don’t think he has long left?” Aubrey said, peering down on him, disgust curling her lips.
Frankie adjusted the controls on the machine. “We’ve been monitoring his brain activity, and we don’t think he can stand the strain for much longer.”
“And you want to do this to another Fixer?” Aubrey said.
“It’s not a matter of wanting, Captain Jones,” Vine said. “It’s a case of needing. Without this deterrent, we will be
The Eskimo – the man apparently responsible for the safety of the country – was Benjo Green. The man who had tried to eat me. Twice. The man I’d broken out of ARES to help me defeat Frankie. The man who had held on to his Shifter power by consuming the brains of other Shifters.
What little hair he’d had had been shaved off, and his head was covered in rows of silver electrodes. Only, they didn’t look as if they were stuck on. They looked as if they had been drilled into his skull.
“Is he conscious?” I asked.
“Of course,” Frankie snapped. “If he was unconscious, he’d hardly be able to Fix. We keep him pumped full of amphetamines to make sure of it. But all non-essential areas of his brain have been put into a comatose state. It’s a very delicate balance of chemicals.”
Chemicals. That seemed to be her answer for everything. I thought of the painkillers in my pocket; the ache in my leg was gnawing.
“How does it work?” Aubrey asked.
“The machine” – Vine looked up at the ceiling – “amplifies his brain waves, extending the focus and reach of his Fixing ability.”
Seeing Benjo like this – reduced to nothing more than a cog in a machine – made me realise how Vine and the rest of this reality truly saw Shifters. Not heroes as Zac had said, but tools to be used. Like me and my team. Expendable. And yet, as much as the uneasiness squirmed in my stomach like an eel, I respected it, too. I was as sickened with myself as I was Vine.
“What I am about to tell you is beyond classified.” Vine pulled at a thread on one of his buttons. “You may have heard rumours about a nuclear strike on this country?”
Aubrey and I exchanged looks and then nodded.
“It’s correct. The strike happened in September 2010. We understand,” Vine continued, “that it wiped out the whole of London, killing millions upon millions in minutes. We don’t know who was responsible. Our best bet is that it was an ex-Russian nuke auctioned off to the highest bidder. What we do know is that there was a Shift registered on that day. A Shift that was off the charts. Way, way above even your abilities, Commandant Tyler. From the information our scientists have been able to gather, we have been able to deduce that there was a Shifter on their side. Who, upon seeing the unparalleled death… well, we’re not entirely sure, but we presume they altered a choice that somehow led to the strike. What choice they unmade, we will never know. But we do know that we can’t have them or any other Shifter on their side – on any side – altering the delicate confluence of choices that led to them standing down with the strike. So, Mr Green here stops that strike from happening and ensures that the overall reality in which this country endures stays firmly in place.”
I was unable to take my eyes off Benjo’s sunken face. The man who had been one of the biggest threats to Shifters was now our saviour. “How long has he been here?”
“Three years,” Vine said. “We arrested Mr Green for, well, you don’t need to know the details, other than to say he was given a choice: death by lethal injection or this. He made the right choice.”
I laid my hand on the glass. I hated Benjo. Yet I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He’d become the lab rat he’d always feared.
“And you don’t think he has long left?” Aubrey said, peering down on him, disgust curling her lips.
Frankie adjusted the controls on the machine. “We’ve been monitoring his brain activity, and we don’t think he can stand the strain for much longer.”
“And you want to do this to another Fixer?” Aubrey said.
“It’s not a matter of wanting, Captain Jones,” Vine said. “It’s a case of needing. Without this deterrent, we will be
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