Chapter 23
Black Mirror
Music: Heavy Is The Crown by Mike Shinoda, Emily Armstrong
The tension in the interrogation room was palpable, the dim light casting shadows over Commander Bleak’s stern expression. “You owe him no allegiance, Emily,” he said firmly, his voice cutting through the silence. “To my knowledge, he even defiled you.”
The words hung heavy in the air, echoing in the isolated dark room, empty except for two chairs and the metallic table that separated them. Emily’s gaze drifted past the commander, landing on the one-way mirror behind him. Her disappointment was evident as she spoke, her voice laced with bitterness. “Unfuckingbelievable! And I thought I could trust you.”
Behind the mirror, Daryl stood silently, his face a mixture of shame and regret as he absorbed her words.
Bleak’s voice was steady as he pressed on. “What happened? Every detail, please.”
“I already told you everything. What more do you want to—”
“Tell me again,” Bleak interrupted, his tone polite but unyielding.
Emily exhaled sharply, her frustration mounting. “He kidnapped me with his friend. He killed his friend so he could have the entire profit. He took me to Binge, but the deal was called off and—” She faltered, unable to finish before Bleak interjected.
“Why did Binge call off the deal?” The commander’s eyes locked onto hers, his intensity unwavering.
Sweat began to form on Emily’s forehead as she hesitated. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice betraying her unease.
“Then how do you know the deal was called off?” Bleak pressed, his questions striking with surgical precision. Emily’s fingers twitched nervously as she struggled to form a coherent answer, her thoughts racing.
With a subtle hand signal, Bleak instructed the guards to open the door. Daryl entered, carrying a chair, which he placed next to Emily before sitting down. Bleak’s gaze shifted between them as he continued, his observations cutting deep. “Unusual fidgeting, inconsistent gestures, microexpressions, speech patterns, evasiveness. It is obvious you are hiding something, Emily. Perhaps something Mr. Dawson would know, since he is my informant?”
Emily’s silence was deafening as Daryl, reluctantly, relayed every piece of information she had entrusted to him. Her head hung low, her thoughts swirling with the consequences this betrayal would bring.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
“Can I trust that all information will be kept confidential?” Emily finally asked, her tone utterly defeated.
Bleak’s response was measured but uncompromising. “Let’s see,” he began. “Nursing a wanted criminal to health, working with him to kidnap a child with the intent of illegal experimentation, and in the process shooting said child. For those crimes, I can pull some strings and erase them since your parents have served this city well. They happened on Rivermirror grounds, so it should not be a fuss. But purposely withholding valuable intel of a terrorist while he is being hunted directly violates River’s constitution. In the court of law, only the truth must be spoken, and the truth involves your entire endeavor, which complicates everything. So no, I cannot keep this information confidential. If found guilty, your moral compass will be in question, and you will serve a minimum of eight years in prison.”
Emily bowed her head, her body trembling with fear and anger. Daryl placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. “Now what?” she roared, her voice filled with despair.
“You will be held under house arrest effective immediately while awaiting your trial. The logistics will be discussed at a further date,” Bleak declared firmly.
Emily’s voice cracked as her thoughts spiraled. “How am I going to explain this to my parents? I am a disappointment—I didn’t ask for any of this! I can’t go to jail. They’re going to think of me as impure, and I cannot marry into a noble family like they would prefer. They will see me as a monster! Everyone will! My siblings… I can’t bear to see my mother’s face.” The turmoil within her was suffocating, her panic palpable even in silence.
The journey home was subdued, Bleak personally escorting Emily without Daryl. A piece of infused technology was attached to her nape—a tracker to ensure her compliance during house arrest. Upon reaching home, Emily stormed inside without a word to her family, slamming her bedroom door shut and locking it.
On her bed lay a parchment, unsigned and ominous. She unfolded it and read:
“You will be found guilty a week from now. I’ve seen it. Fuck around and find out if you want to call my bluff or come help me, and in return I’ll ensure your freedom in Rivermirror. If we have a deal, be on your way to city square right now. Take a gun with you, you’ll need it.”
As she processed the words, a deafening explosion shook the air. The academy, now engulfed in flames, was the epicenter. The blast’s force obliterated nearby buildings, leaving ash and destruction in its wake. The skies darkened with smoke, red-tinted clouds casting an apocalyptic glow as shockwaves rippled through the city, evaporating those caught too close.
Taking advantage of the chaos, Emily worked swiftly. She retrieved a portable mirror and her prototype tweezers, etched with runes and powered by a green core. With precise movements, she disabled the tracker and transferred it to her sleeping cat. The device rebooted, fusing with the animal’s spine as Emily prepared her escape.
Packing essentials into her backpack, she donned a hooded outfit and holstered a gun. Driven by fear, desperation, and a sliver of hope, she sprinted into the chaos.
The thick smoke obscured her vision, but as she approached the city square, the sound of combat drew her attention. Commander Joana, equipped for battle, fought fiercely against Evee, whose fiery form blazed with intensity despite her diminishing strength. Joana’s blade-like arms struck with precision, her mechanical body granting her the upper hand.
Emily’s heart raced as she watched Evee falter. Joana delivered a critical blow, stabbing Evee through the heart. Emily’s thoughts raced back to the note: “Take a gun with you, you’ll need it.”
Quietly closing the distance, Emily observed Evee struggling to heal herself, vulnerable and weakened. Whispering, “I understand, Hound,” she steadied her aim and fired.
The shot pierced the darkness, its roar reverberating through the chaos. The bullet struck true, shattering Joana’s skull—the only part of her still human. Her body collapsed with a resounding thud, lifeless on the pavement.