Planatae

Prison

Growing up, Lukas had believed that his mind was his greatest weapon. It was a sentiment offered by his science-driven mother, and she had shown him that the pursuit of knowledge was a valuable thing.

He spent his childhood surrounded by scholars and students - people that spent their days reading, exploring, experimenting. It meant that it had been easy to forget that his home was a military base - a place of action, and violence.

Another thing that was easy to forget was the fact that his mother, a member of this army, had a history beyond his birth. That the medals she so carefully pinned to her chest each morning were more than just shiny chunks of gold and silver. They were memories from a time before Lukas and Planetaelogy.

A time when she had been deadly.

As Tiber shouted in agony, clutching his head, Lukas watched as his mother lifted one solid-looking boot and kicked the man in the small of his back. For the second time in ten seconds, Tiber smashed face first against the wall. This time, however, he sank to the ground with a groan.

There were sounds of shock from across the room; the pair of Purists had shot to their feet, their mouths hanging open in mirrored expressions of terror.

Erin pivoted and launched herself in their direction. She sprinted towards them, weaving through the tables.

One of the Purists seemed shell-shocked; they stood, frozen in place. The other one, however, had turned in an attempt to flee. But Erin had scooped up a chair in passing, and she lifted its carbon-steel frame and threw it in one fluid moment.

The Purist didn't even see it coming. The chair nailed them in the back of the head, and they went down hard, body bouncing against the floor.

The other one seemed to jerk awake, then, and pedaled backwards, trying to keep Erin in their sights. But she had closed the gap by now, and she threw a wicked hook at the Purist's face.

The Purist was no fighter - they feebly raised their arms, covering their head in an attempt to protect themself. But Erin began to pummel their body with a series of blows; literally beating the Purist into the ground. She finally took out their legs with a sweep, and landed a hit on their skull on their way down, the impact hard enough to be heard as a dull-sounding thud.

It had taken Erin less than two minutes to incapacitate all three Purists.

Pausing for a moment to look down at her work, Erin turned towards the one she'd hit with a chair. The Purist was struggling a little on the ground, badly disoriented. She walked over, and landed a solid kick into his ribs, then his head. Again, until the yelps subsided and the figure stopped moving.

Then, Erin spoke, and Lukas flinched at the sound of his name. He realized, in an idle, disconnected way, that his body had begun to shake at some point in the last few moments. He crossed his arms, gripping them, in an attempt to find some sort of anchor.

"Holy fucking stones," he breathed. "Oh, shit..."

Erin stood in front of him again, having checked all three bodies for signs of movement. She knelt to the ground, and pulled up her trouser leg. As Lukas watched, she pressed against her bare ankle lightly, and a patch of skin seemed to dislodge from her leg. If Lukas wasn't already in shock, he would have gasped at the sight.

"You have implants?" He managed to choke out the words.

She pulled a small container from the newly-made socket before replacing the pseudo-skin. "Not until recently. I needed to make sure these made it in."

Erin held out a startlingly familiar container. The small, metallic case, he knew, was what she used to package one of her greatest breakthroughs.

Suddenly, with her free hand, Erin gripped his shoulder - hard. Lukas whimpered at the pressure - he couldn't help it.