Page 98 of Call of the Fathoms

If she was a completely emotionless robot of herself, then she would not be seen without her jacket buttoned up to her throat. And for a moment, she let herself cry. Tears streamed down her cheeks and silent sobs made her shoulders shake as she donned new clothes and a new persona.

She had known this would be hard. Nothing about this had ever suggested that it would be easy, but she hadn’t realized just how awful it was going to be.

Her eyes went to the windows, and she unconsciously sought him out. Because her mind still swore that he had to be there.He had always been there. If she just kept looking, then soon enough, she would see that purple tail, or a flicker of yellow lights out in the depths.

But she was all alone now. Just standing in a room, staring out at the sea, with the dead version of herself at her feet.

And she was running out of time.

She needed to get her shit together and get out there. Someone would eventually look at the footage from this room. They would see that the wrong Alexia was walking through the city. She needed to get out, convince Harlow she was that emotionless version of herself, and then... off she went. Infiltrate the city and kill almost everyone inside.

Alexia leaned down to empty her old pockets of those tiny bead droids and dropped them all onto the floor. They knew what to do now that they were released. Each one of them zipped off in different directions, and they’d find the control room soon enough.

Taking a deep breath, she headed out the door into the hallway, where Harlow waited. Her Original looked her up and down, and then asked, “Was it grisly?”

“She put up a fight.” Alexia tried to keep her voice completely emotionless. “It is done now.”

“Good. Oh, the poor dear. I did really like her, you know.” Taking a deep breath, Harlow shrugged. “But there are so many of you. Killing one isn’t going to make me lose sleep. Now, do you mind picking up my laundry? I had my new dress dry cleaned, and he always irons it wrong.”

“Right away, ma’am.” She turned away from the woman who had made her life a living hell, and promised herself the next time she saw Harlow, she would kill her.

Forty

Alexia

They were all idiots, Alexia realized. Rich idiots who thought that the world was something they could manipulate and control. As she strode past the laundry room, ignoring an order from Harlow directly, she realized every single Original in this entire city was a fool. But they thought they were geniuses, and that’s where the problem began.

They had power, and they had it for a very long time. That power had given them the feeling that they were better than others, even though that simply wasn’t true. They thought that with power and money, their minds were better than everyone else’s. But all of these people had just been lucky. Lucky to get a few funds more than others, lucky that a business had done better than their competitor, or had been looked upon favorably by fate throughout all of their lives because they already had a leg up.

History would not look upon them kindly. As she walked through the halls toward the armory, Alexia knew she would be the first person to destroy all the reputation they had built foryears. She would tell every story that would make them seem less a god and more the fragile beings they really were.

She would make sure everyone knew that they were incapable of brushing their own teeth without someone reminding them. She would tell stories about how often she had to clean up their messes, or how they cried often because someone had hurt their feelings. They were human, not gods, and hundreds of years of life hadn’t changed that.

A group of soldiers walked toward her, and she placed her hands behind her back to mimic their posture. Spine stiff and straight, she walked past them without another look, as though she belonged here.

And they did the same to her. Because everyone who worked for the Originals didn’t exist. They were drones in a hive. No thoughts, no feelings. If they started to exist, they were just replaced. Like they had already done to her.

She turned right down the hall and entered the armory. It was mostly deserted this time of day, considering all the guards were heading to the mess hall to get their food before training. Everything in this room was deadly, because it didn’t matter if they trained with live weapons. It wasn’t a big deal if someone like her died.

There were no windows on these walls, just racks full of guns. More and more of them until she got to the sword section. Then the blunt objects, like clubs and all the other items that would hurt if someone was hit with them. She took a deep breath and started gathering all the items she would need.

Striding to the back wall, she grabbed a stun gun and shoved it into the front of her pants. This was a good weapon for up close. Then she grabbed what looked like an assault rifle and slung it over her shoulder by the strap. It fired large energy balls that would clear a room out quickly, and that’s what she needed.Two more stun guns went into the back of her pants for when the others eventually ran out of power.

Good enough. This would get her started. She took her long braid and coiled it on top of her head, tying it in a knot so it wouldn’t get in her way.

A small tap at the door had her slicing her gaze toward it, only to see one of those little droid beads on the ground. They’d found the control room, which meant everything was ready.

She bent down to grab it and pressed it against the back of her ear.

“You hear me?” a voice came through. Mira’s, it sounded like.

“Loud and clear.”

“Ready?”

She swung the rifle into her arms and turned the safety off, feeling the familiar weight and heft of it. “Oh yeah, I’m ready.”

This hallway led toward a complicated network of halls that would lead her to the control room. But there were bound to be people who stood in her way. Too many people lived here, and every single one of them would see her, armed to the teeth, and they would try to stop her.

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