Morgan stood behind the near-collapsing wall – he didn't like the sound of their voices, and liked the sounds off their clanking weapons even less. He had long since given up confronting the military police – despite his inability to die, getting shot still hurt like a b***h. So he stuck to the shadows, kept a gun in hand, and his sword within easy reach. He had never been more thankful for those cram sessions with the weapons with Sebastian years before than he was at the times when he was caught.
Luckily for him, those times were few and far between – he'd gotten very, very good at going unseen. He silently cocked his gun, turning his head just enough to look around the corner, and frowned. Only three of them? That by itself was strange. They always travelled in groups of at least six, and Morgan assumed it was so that the squad wouldn't be taken out as quickly. But why only three?
His question was answered in the next moment, when he felt the cool fibreglass of a handgun press against the back of his skull.
"Well, well, what do we have here?" A drawling voice came from behind him, and all Morgan could think was "********." He should've known they had split up. Instead of fleeing like every instinct in his body told him, he sucked it up and made sure his own gun was out of sight.
He knew better than to look at them – last time, he had been shot in the face. And head-wounds not only hurt the worst, but take the longest to heal. So instead of deal with that, Morgan kept his eyes trained on the ground and his voice silent. The cop prodded at him, and a different, female voice spoke, "He a civilian?"
The first cop snorted, "Pretty heavily armed for one of the proles, don'tcha think?"
The woman cop came around in front of Morgan, looking at him carefully. She had scars covering her face, but not disfiguring in anyway. In fact, they almost seemed like tribal decorations. It took a moment, but it dawned on Morgan that this was exactly what they were. She could obviously see the gun he held, out in the shadows – the man had yet to see it. But Morgan was surprised when she said nothing about it. "A sword hardly counts as heavily armed, Pavel. Mind telling us what you're doing out after curfew with a weapon?"
Morgan didn't show his surprise as he answered, almost unnoticeably slipping his gun into it's hiding spot inside his vest, "I work security detail at one of the mines. It ain't smart to carry a gun around those gases, so I got a sword in case of… problems." It was a practiced lie, and one that was completely plausible.
Pavel didn't seem entirely convinced, but couldn't see anything particularly wrong with the strange-looking fellow. Well, other than the ornately decorated sword that hung at the ready at his waist. "Uh-huh. You believin' him, 'Gone?"
She didn't. It didn't take an idiot to realize that this guy was a rebel, and that sword struck a cord in her. But something told Antigone to not mention that little fact, and let the guy go. "I don't see why not. He is wearing miner's security garb, and would you bring a gun into a mine with a methane vain?"
"Hells no." Pavel snorted again, lowering his gun from it's position behind Morgan's head, "Fine. We'll let you off with just a warning this time, but next time we'll take you in."
Morgan nodded, trying to look as submissive as possible, even as the other cops came up. The took one look at him, and then to Antigone and Pavel.
"Rebel?" One asked, his face covered by a visor.
"No, sir. Just a civilian on his way home." Antigone paused, thinking for a moment, "Sir, if it's all the same to you, I'd like permission to escort him to his residence, as a precaution."
The man with the visor seemed to think for a moment, looking Morgan up and down. He shrugged, "Do as you please – Permission granted. Pavel, you go with them."
The dark-haired man groaned, "Yessir."
The other members of the squad carried on, and Antigone let out a slightly annoyed sigh. She hadn't wanted Pavel along for this – she trusted him, but not that much. "Hey, you wanna scout ahead?"
Pavel was no idiot. He knew his partner wanted to have a word with Mr Sword, and it wasn't like he didn't have his suspicions about the man. But he agreed without hesitation, because he knew that Antigone had been first in her class at the police academy for a reason, and that reason was because she could kick a man 3 times her sizes a** in less than a minute. Pavel knew better than to mess with that. "What am I, communal b***h today?"
"You will be if you don't do what I say."
Morgan watched with interest, but didn't let it show – he followed Pavel's progress forward to a distance far enough away to be out of ear shot. He glanced at his other escort, wondering what exactly was going to happen.
She lowered her voice, "So what are you really doing out here? You're not the right build for security detail."
Morgan didn't open his mouth, instead opting to not give her an answer. He didn't trust anyone, especially since his family had essentially been pulled off the very planet.
Antigone had a feeling this would happen, "Look, I'm not gonna call my captain back, if that's what you're worried about. I'm just curious about why someone that looks like you is out this late, in this area, with an automatic weapon and a broadsword."
Gritting his teeth, Morgan was tempted to unsheathe the sword, kill both of them, and high-tail it out of there – but he hesitated. She wasn't being forceful, and she sounded sincere enough. But honestly, that meant nothing. Lying was almost like a sport, and the better you were the longer you lived – not that Morgan had to worry about such things, but still. He didn't like getting shot. "I'd rather not talk, if you don't mind."
The woman rose an eyebrow at him, and it was in that moment she realized something. His movements, though calculated, had a strange motion to them, as though his body and mind weren't quite in the same place. On top of that, she recognized the signs of past insanity. But how long past? With the leaps and bounds in preservation technology, it was impossible to tell people's real age anymore, and for all she knew, he was fresh off the funny farm or a veteran of the last war.
And if he was a recent release… well, suffice to say a lunatic with a sword didn't bode well. So she respected his wish not to talk about it. But that didn't stop her from talking, "Sure, why not? I'm Antigone, by the way."
"Daughter of Oedipus." Morgan mumbled, and couldn't help but laugh a little. He remembered reading that play in high school, and laughing about it with… He stopped that train of thought, clenching his jaw tight. He didn't want to think about his past, especially since it was still painful for him – and often times sent him off on tantrums. Except, of course, when Jayden was around to calm him. Unfortunately, his lover was at home, probably keeping watch. So it was up to him to keep his head straight.
"You know the story!" She gasped. They had stopped teaching it in schools years and years earlier, and it had somehow managed to make it's way onto the banned book list – she knew it was because of the fictional Antigone's actions of individuality. She only knew her name's origin from her mother's words.
Morgan blinked, "Yeah. I read it in school." He, of course, knew nothing about the play's being banned and assumed that the tragedy of Oedipus was still common knowledge.
Well, that answered one question – he was old. They had banned it before she was born, nearly 30 years earlier. And if he had read it in school, that implied that it was in print, and not on audio, which had become very popular in the '50s. She withheld a gasp. Did this mean that he was older than that? She looked at him closely. Even the best regenerist couldn't make someone over 60, who had never had the procedure before, look twenty-five. So what was his story?
He suddenly stopped, eying Pavel up ahead with his head tilted. He blinked slowly, trying to clear the fog in his head. He hated it when it happened, but there was nothing he could do about it. "This is as far as you'll escort me."
Antigone whistled, catching Pavel's attention before looking back to Morgan, "Why's that?"
"Because I don't want you knowing where I live." He was blunt, and his eyes were losing focus. Antigone could easily see it, and had a feeling he was relapsing. Paranoia was sometimes a sign of that.
But she didn't argue with him – again, crazy with weapons. "Alright. Can I at least get your name?"
Morgan stared at her for a long moment, before nodding slightly, "Yeah, sure. Smith. Morgan Smith." It was a lie; his name wasn't in the database, and if he remembered correctly, there were over 100 Morgan Smiths in the New York area alone.
She knew he was lying as well, but didn't try and force the truth from him, watching as he strode off.
"You're letting him go?" Pavel's mouth was agape as he watched Morgan disappear in front of him into the darkness.
"Why not? I doubt he'll be much trouble. And besides, he's bugged."
Pavel grinned at his partner, "Have I told you lately that I love you?"
She rolled her eyes.
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