Paragon

Prologue

The city is ghost-quiet. No dogs barking. No car horns. Not a single sign of a busy crowd. Just a peaceful and gloomy night for the defectives. Nothing new.

Whenever the sun sinks lower on the horizon, the community will always be soaked in pure black ink, dark and dull. However, a few blocks from where I stand, pools of street lights make it a little less boring. Combined with the growing luminescence of the lined up residential houses, the street is much more visible for everyone who's treading outside.

Then, one by one, the street lights go out.

I stop dead in my tracks, eyes swinging in all directions.

"A power outage?" I say under my breath.

A total blackout creeps through the entire city, leaving us with nothing but darkness. I have to hurry. I need to head back home before my nanny discovers that I'm out here breaking my curfew...again.

Quickening my pace, my ears catch something strange which freezes my body in an instant.

I hear a roaring boom from afar...

Then silence, as though the world has been muffled from any kind of noise. At the distance, an overwhelming flash of light bursts in the night sky and spreads out like a rolling wildfire, painting the clouds in vibrant, deadly orange. A singe of terror and beauty happening at the same time. The dazzling light, which eventually engulfs my vision, stretches across the streets with a strong, indescribable force. Its impact is so strong it throws my body in the air like an insentient ragdoll.

As I stagger to my feet, a loud sound of an alarm goes off. It plays in the background like an old cranky vinyl player.

I can't think straight. My lungs are burned into crisps and my head's a bit dizzy. It takes a few more minutes of heavy breathing before I realize what exactly is going on.

I've been caught in an explosion.

Screams of panic and fear swell as a wave of defectives scurries out into the streets. What they have witnessed is beyond horrifying.

The control tower from across the block dances in flames. The streets hum with blaring sirens from the police drones. The sky is shrouded with smoke so thick you could run a knife through it.

"Look at the southern gates!" someone yells.

Our jaws drop in disbelief when the huge gates leading to the lower cities, which have been always closed, finally swing open. It feels like a hazy dream for everyone. Too good to be true.

It doesn't take too long before a troop of armed guards arrives on their hovercycles and dismount in an uncanny synchronization. In a marching stance, they point their guns out with bold confidence, ready to pull the trigger anytime.

Although the guards pose a great threat to the defectives, everyone chooses to bat an eye on it for they only have one thing in their minds; to escape. So I'm taking it. We're taking it. Everyone charges at them without any hesitations, inciting turmoil all over the city.

Swarms of desperate defectives ram the guards, giving the adversaries no option but to open fire.

Gunshots.

And even more gunshots.

Then blood.

The place becomes a battlefield. 

Even if the guards are equipped with lethal weapons, the citizens choose to fight back. With the guards scattered across the different sectors, their number is now just a pinch of the entire defectives in this city.

Piles of bodies in the streets. Broken windows, smashed cars. Flames consuming the houses from one block to another, as though turning the supposedly silent night into a sunny morning in summer.

Instead of joining the riot, I weave my way out through the large number of people. With supple and quick movements, I slip my hand into numerous pockets of every body I encounter in my way as to avoid being kicked down by the others around me.

"I'll take that, thank you," I say as I snatch the final keycard to satisfy my collection. With it being in my grasp, I swiftly hop in on the first hovercycle that I see and simultaneously swipe each card in an attempt to gain full access.

Thief, that's what they call me.

Talent is what I call it.

"Halt! Stop what you're doing!" a guard finally notices.

Too late for them. The hovercycle's engine is already whirring into life.

I may not be able to go back there tonight but I'll make sure to come home very soon, mama and papa.

With a tight grip and a step to the pedal, I drive away from the rain of bullets that slices the thin air. The grey ashes plummet down from the dead sky elegantly as I roll out straight to the gates at full speed.

And that I promise.