City of Blood and Iron

The Mirror of the Past

The man standing at the top of the gangplank looked like he had stepped straight out of a mirror thirty years into my future.

His face had the same sharp jawline, the same tired dark eyes, and the exact same jagged scar cutting across the back of his left hand. Regional Director Vance Senior smiled down at us, swirling a glass of clear liquid in his hand as if he were welcoming old friends to a dinner party instead of two prisoners walking into a trap.

"You look surprised, Kyle," the older man said, his voice carrying the same raspy tone I heard every time I listened to my own voice echo in an empty hallway. "Did you really think our father only built one office? The local branch in Seattle was just a testing ground. This ship is where the real human contracts are written."

I kept my hand firmly inside my coat pocket, gripping the cold metal of my iron gun and the sharp silver key Arthur had left behind in the iron box.

Beside me, Elena let out a harsh, pained breath. The silver light had locked her entire upper body, but her dark eyes burned with pure fury as she stared up at the man blocking the doorway.

"You are not our father," Elena said, her voice tight and steady. "Our father died trying to destroy this system twenty years ago."

"Your father did not die, Elena," Regional Director Vance Senior laughed softly, taking a slow sip from his glass. "He simply received a promotion. He realized that fighting the Syndicate is pointless, so he became the system itself. Just like you will, once your conversion finishes."

Before I could answer, two heavy metal guards wearing full tactical gear stepped out from the shadows behind him and lunged down the ramp. They grabbed my arms before I could pull my gun, twisting them behind my back with brutal force and knocking me hard against the wet concrete of the pier.

"Kyle!" Elena cried out, her stiff legs failing her as she fell heavily onto the ground beside me.

"Do not touch her!" I shouted, kicking my foot backward and catching one of the guards square in the knee.

The guard grunted in pain but did not let go. Instead, he slammed the butt of his rifle down against my shoulder, sending a sharp wave of pain shooting through my arm.

Regional Director Vance Senior walked slowly down the gangplank, his polished leather shoes clicking against the metal steps. He stopped right in front of us, looking down with a cold, pitying expression.

"You have spirit, Kyle. Exactly like your father when he was young," the older man said, crouching down so he was eye-level with me. "He thought he could save everyone by hiding the master key in your bloodlines. But debt cannot be erased with a wooden stamp. It can only be transferred."

He reached out and tapped the silver light spreading across Elena's shoulder.

"Her contract was signed ten years ago to pay off your mother's hospital debts," Vance Senior continued smoothly. "She was never a normal asset. She was manufactured to be the final bridge between the local municipal servers and the offshore master ledger. Once her conversion is complete, the entire city of Seattle will be locked back under our control permanently."

"We broke the local server," I said, blood dripping from a small cut on my forehead. "The city records are already open."

"The local server is just a filing cabinet, Kyle," Vance Senior smiled, standing back up and dusting off his coat. "The real vault is right here on this ship. And you brought the final key right to my front door."

He nodded to the guards.

"Bring them inside the main control room. Strap the girl to the primary conversion terminal. And throw Kyle into the holding cell with the other failed auditors."

"No!" I yelled, fighting against the guards as they hauled me to my feet. "Leave her alone!"

Elena did not scream. As the guards dragged her up the gangplank toward the dark interior of the ship, she looked back at me one last time. Her eyes were no longer brown, and the silver light had already covered half her face, turning her features cold and hard.

"Kyle," her voice echoed in my head through the mental link we had shared since childhood. "Use the key."

The guards shoved me backward through a side door leading down into the dark lower deck of the ship. The heavy steel door slammed shut behind me with a loud, final bang, plunging the small, windowless room into complete darkness.

I hit the floor hard, scraping my hands against the rough metal deck.

For a second, the darkness felt heavy and crushing. The air in the room was thin, smelling of old salt and hot machinery. But my fingers, pressed against the inside of my coat pocket, brushed against the sharp edge of the silver key Arthur had left in the iron box.

I sat up in the dark, pulling my hand out of my pocket. In the faint red glow of an emergency light near the ceiling, the silver key was glowing with a bright, steady pulse.

Above my head, the deep, heavy thrum of the ship's massive engines began to change pitch. The whole vessel shuddered violently, starting to move away from the dock and out into the open ocean.

I stood up in the dark, gripped the silver key tightly in my fist, and smiled.

They thought I was trapped in a holding cell. They did not know the holding cell was built directly over the ship's main power conduit.

I raised my iron gun, aimed the barrel straight at the rusted steel wall beside the door, and pulled the trigger.