The History Runner

11 - Iniquity Hunters

Damon awoke to darkness. Fighting through a mental fuzz, he struggled to his feet and began exploring his surroundings. Four walls, a door with a slot, what might have been a bucket. No window, and everything was made of metal. Designed to be as torturous as possible. A Preserver prison cell.

No, not the Preservers. They would have removed the bullets, and Damon could tell those were still there, bandaged but sending out spines of agony. No, the Preservers weren't the ones who had captured him. He balked at the alternative, but forced himself to accept it.

He had been captured by the Iniquity Hunters.

Where the Preservers kept the peace and caught criminals, the Iniquity Hunters dealt with threats to the state. Only the worst drew their attention. And with so many Archivist bases being discovered... Damon wasn't entirely surprised to find they had been assisting in eliminating the Archivists.

He grimly wondered why he hadn't ran into any beforehand. Damon decided it was due to sheer luck. He also considered how long it would take him to break.

The Iniquity Hunters were very good at their jobs. Fanatically devoted to the World Order, they never failed to get information from a prisoner. Damon entertained no dreams of being able to hold out. He would break. And in doing so, reveal the location of what might be the last remaining Archivist safehouse on the planet. If that other group was still alive, and Damon broke, there would be no refuge.

He had failed. All the deaths, all the efforts, hadn't been worth it. The World Order always got what they wanted in the end.

Is that really true? part of him thought. Then why are you still alive?

Something new flooded Damon's head: the knowledge he was wrong. The deaths, the efforts, everything had been worth it. The World Order had been parading the Archivists' destruction, proclaiming it a great victory for the state, evidence of their solidarity. Because they wanted people to think they couldn't be resisted. If they wanted people to think that so badly, it meant they could be resisted. Destroyed, even. Otherwise, why would they need to Preservers to keep that which could not be broken?

No, the World Order wasn't absolute, as was taught, as he himself had secretly believed. If so, the Archivists never would've formed, much less survived. Their deaths were proof that the government wasn't nearly as powerful as they made themselves out to be.

Footsteps sounded outside Damon's cell. The door opened and a man in a crimson uniform stood there, a stimulant baton in his left hand. His expression was expectant, like he was waiting for pleas of mercy. His face slackened when Damon just looked at him.

The Iniquity Hunter recovered, his expression hardening. He lowered his thumb and pressed it gently to Damon's neck.

Agony rippled through him. Damon collapsed to the ground, shrieking, shrieking, shrieking. And still the pain continued.

Stim dots didn't normally hurt this much. The part of Damon that was still lucid realized the Hunter was punishing him. How dare he not beg? This place was meant for sobbing and hopelessness. But even once the man lifted the baton, Damon remained unmoved.

Their deaths had been worth it. In a way, they showed there was still hope. The Iniquity Hunter scowled and raised his baton again.

Then fell to the ground as bullets tore into him.

The Iniquity Hunter was replaced by a man in tattered clothing. He looked absolutely ragged, yet his posture was vigorous. A white wolf stood at his side.

"What the--" Damon began, but the man cut him off.

"Come on. There are more of us outside, and I don't know if they got off a call for help." He extended a hand. When Damon hesitated, the man pulled aside his shirt and said, "I'm one of you." Tattooed on his shoulder was an open book. The symbol of the Archivists.

Excited, Damon took his hand, starting to cry. "Let's go," his rescuer said. Damon followed the man outside, where Preservers and Iniquity Hunters alike lay dead on the ground. Thirty or so individuals stood among them, checking pulses.

The man motioned for them to go. Each one had the Archivist symbol visible on them somewhere. It dawned on Damon that this was the group he had heard about. The group that had escaped.

He kept from crying harder as they led him into the forest.