Interrogation

Rays of dawn penetrated the cracked shutters of our hideout as I woke from a fitful slumber. We had one hell of a day ahead of us. After a brief breakfast, we were ready to face our captive

The morning light filtered through. It cast long shadows over Cyrene Divonn, whose eyes were now open and darting about, taking in her surroundings. She was awake and restrained, an image I found oddly satisfying. But we had work to do.

As we gathered around her, I could feel the tension in the air. Cyrene's eyes narrowed as she took in the sight of us, her lip curling in distaste.

"I won't tell you anything," she hissed, the venom in her voice palpable.

Qin remained calm, maintaining a level gaze. "We have questions, Divonn. You will answer them."

She let out a harsh laugh, tossing her head back. "And why would I do that?"

Musashi stepped forward, a vial in his hand. The liquid inside glowed an iridescent blue. "Because we have ways of making you talk."

Cyrene eyed the vial warily. "What's that?"

"A truth serum, extracted from the leaves of the Trifolium plant, manipulated and enhanced by the technology of this era," Musashi explained. "It will make you more...cooperative."

Joan looked at Musashi, a flicker of concern crossing her face. "Are you sure about this, Musashi?"

He nodded. "It's the quickest way. We don't have time for games."

Joan looked at me, and I could see the question in her eyes. After a moment's hesitation, I nodded my agreement. The decision was made. We needed answers, and we needed them fast.

Musashi injected the serum into Cyrene's arm. She grimaced at the prick of the needle but said nothing, her eyes still full of defiance.

As we waited for the serum to take effect, silence enveloped us. The tension was like a tangible entity in the room, it weighed on our shoulders. It wasn't long before Cyrene's eyes started to glaze over.

"Now," Qin began, his voice steady, "tell us about the other mayors of Paradise City. Who are they and what are their roles?"

Cyrene blinked, her once defiant eyes now becoming clouded and distant. Her resistance was crumbling, slowly but surely. The interrogation had begun.

Cyrene's gaze flickered between us, her lips parting slightly as if she was attempting to fight off the drug's effects. "Why do you want to know?"

"Answer the question," I pressed, trying to maintain a neutral tone.

She sighed, leaning her head back against the wall. After a few seconds, she began to speak in a monotonous voice, almost robotic. "Their names are Jakob Merlo and Evelyn Drahn... They're like me... in charge of different sectors."

"Which sectors?" Joan asked, a hint of impatience creeping into her voice.

"Jakob handles security and defense systems... Evelyn oversees technology and information..." she said, her voice growing softer with every word.

"And what are their goals?" Musashi inquired, his eyes fixed on Cyrene.

She chuckled, a hint of her earlier defiance returning. "Isn't it obvious? Power... control... dominance over the city... over the world. Everything!"

The room fell into silence as we absorbed her words. They weren't surprising, but hearing them out loud gave them a new kind of reality.

"And their strengths? Their weaknesses?" Qin asked, breaking the silence.

Her lips curled into a smirk. "You're asking too much," she scoffed. But her resistance was weak, and the truth serum was still working. After a pause, she added, "Jakob... he's paranoid... trusts no one. Evelyn... she's overconfident... thinks she's invincible."

Her words painted a clearer picture of our enemies. Paranoia and overconfidence - weaknesses we could potentially exploit. The battle was far from over, but with each piece of information, the path became clearer. The pieces for our next targets were coming together.

Cyrene's head bobbed as her eyes fluttered, struggling to stay focused on us. "Evelyn... she's been... hunting..." she muttered, her voice hoarse.

"Hunting? Hunting what?" I asked, my heart pounding in my chest. Her words sent a shiver down my spine.

"Anomalies," she finally whispered.

"Anomalies?" Joan echoed, her brow furrowing in concern.

"Yes, anomalies... people from the past... like you... appearing out of nowhere... for two years..." she muttered, her voice barely audible. Her words hung heavy in the air, filling the room with an eerie silence.

Musashi's eyes widened in realization, and Qin's lips parted in surprise. Joan and I exchanged a look, an unspoken understanding passing between us. We were not alone; we were not the only 'anomalies' here.

"Why?" I pressed, trying to keep my voice steady.

She seemed to fight the drug, but it was useless. Her gaze finally met mine, a spark of terror flashing through her eyes. "Because... Evelyn wants... power... control... she wants to use the anomalies... for her own gains..." she admitted, her voice trembling. "She... believes the anomalies are... key... to conquering the world..."

My blood ran cold. If Evelyn was truly hunting us, we were in far more danger than we'd imagined. And if she succeeded in using us, the entire world would be at her mercy. This new revelation brought about a greater urgency to our mission, and it was time to devise a new plan.

"Who else knows about us? About these anomalies?" Qin's voice was steady but I could see a flicker of worry in his eyes.

"Everyone on the upper echelons of the regime... Evelyn, the mayors, high-ranking officers..." Cyrene's voice was barely a whisper now, her words punctuated by labored breaths. "They know... they're all hunting..."

"Have they... have they captured any of us?" Joan interjected, her voice tense. Her eyes held a glimmer of fear, a sentiment I was sure we all shared.

Cyrene nodded weakly, "Yes... a few. Kept in a secret facility..."

I felt my heart drop. "What is Evelyn planning to do with these anomalies?" I asked, my throat tight.

"To... to manipulate... to use them..." Cyrene coughed, struggling to breathe. "She believes... the anomalies have... abilities, knowledge... things that could tip the balance of power... in her favor..."

"Where is this facility? What are their names?" Joan pressed on. Her voice was firm, betraying none of the worry her eyes revealed.

Cyrene's voice grew more distant with each word, her consciousness slowly slipping away. "The... the facility... it's in the... Industrial District... Warehouse... Seventeen..."

She gasped, a painful, shallow intake of breath. Her head lolled to one side as her eyes glazed over, but she managed one last whispered word. "Remember..."

And then silence.

Musashi quietly checked her pulse. "She's gone," he announced, his voice devoid of any emotion. "Brain dead. The serum... it was too much."

The room fell into an eerie silence, a quiet punctuated only by the soft hum of the hideout's ventilation system. Cyrene's lifeless form lay before us, her last words echoing in my mind. 'Warehouse Seventeen' - our next destination and our hope of finding fellow anomalies.

But what chilled me to the core was her last plea: 'Remember'. A plea, or a warning? It seemed we were going to find out.

As Musashi disappeared into the adjacent room to find a container for Cyrene's body, the rest of us returned to the main area of the hideout. We sat in silence, each of us absorbed in our thoughts.

The glow from the single overhead light bulb painted long shadows on our faces. The thick silence was oppressive, a stark contrast to the life-or-death urgency we had just faced. Cyrene's words echoed in my mind like a haunting melody. Warehouse Seventeen. Anomalies. Remember.

Finally, it was Joan who broke the silence. "The anomalies... they're just like us. Stolen from their times, forced into this nightmare. We cannot turn our backs on them."

"Agreed," I chimed in, "But we also can't ignore the mayors. Each one taken down is a step towards liberating this city. Yet, I can't shake the feeling that these captured anomalies might be used for some heinous plot."

Qin Shi Huang, silent till now, sipped his tea before placing the cup back on the table. He seemed deep in thought before he finally spoke. "It is indeed a dilemma. However, I believe in strategy. While our emotional inclination may be towards saving our fellow anomalies, strategically, it makes more sense to continue taking down the mayors. It will weaken the regime's control over the city."

Musashi returned, having found a suitable container for Cyrene's body. He listened to Qin's words before replying. "A fair point, but we can't dismiss the anomalies. The regime is targeting them for a reason. We need to find out why."

The room fell silent once again as each of us absorbed what the others had said. It was clear that there was no easy answer to this.

The debate picked up in intensity, ideas and counterpoints flung across the room like arrows on a battlefield. Joan, ever the passionate advocate, argued fiercely for the immediate rescue of the anomalies, while Qin held steadfastly to his strategy of continued subversion against the mayors.

"But what if these anomalies are not simply captives?" Qin argued, adjusting his bandages. "What if, as Alexander said, they're being used for some heinous plot? We would be freeing potential enemies that have real potential to kill us."

I leaned forward, "That's exactly why we need to intervene. They're being used, turned against their will. We know better than anyone what it's like to be yanked out of time, forced to adapt or die. If we can reach them, convince them to join us..."

Qin interrupted me, his eyes fierce, "And if we can't convince them? If they've been conditioned, brainwashed even? We could be unleashing a bigger threat onto this city. The mayors are the known enemy. We should stick to the plan."

Musashi, silent until now, chimed in. "Both paths are fraught with danger, and both hold the potential for victory. We have an obligation to free those who suffer as we do. Yet we must also dismantle the power structure that enables this tyranny. We may need to divide our efforts."

The suggestion hung in the air. Splitting up. It wasn't what I wanted, but it was clear that we were at an impasse. It was a risky move, but it seemed like the only way forward. We each had our convictions, our strategies, but the reality of our situation demanded flexibility. Our strengths lay in our unity, in our diversity of thought and approach, but for this, perhaps temporary division was the key. Perhaps our differences would pave the way for our shared victory. To potentially win both battles that will help us win the war ahead.

With our path laid out, albeit as uneven as the cracked pavement of Paradise City, we retreated to our respective tasks. A heaviness lingered in the room as the doors slid shut behind each of us.

Leaving the dimly lit haven of Musashi's abode, I found myself traversing the connecting tunnel towards my sanctuary. The damp smell of the decrepit building was now familiar, a reminder of this strange new world that we had been thrust into. As I settled down in front of the archaic computer terminal, the blue glow of the screen illuminated the small room.

"Prometheus," I called out, fingers hovering over the keyboard. "We need to talk."

The interface flickered to life, Prometheus' symbol illuminating the screen. "Alexander," his voice resounded from the speakers. "What do you need?"

"Did you know?" I cut to the chase. "Did you know that Qin and I would meet Joan at the Colosseum? That we'd all wind up working with Musashi? Was capturing Cyrene part of your grand scheme?"

There was a moment of silence before Prometheus spoke. "I can predict outcomes based on data I've gathered, Alexander, but I cannot foresee every detail. What happened at the Colosseum was a result of your own actions, your decisions. The same goes for teaming up with Musashi. However, I did foresee a high likelihood of your paths intersecting. As for Cyrene... an unexpected turn of events to be sure, but a welcome one."

His answer was neither a confirmation nor a denial, but it resonated with the chaos that had been our existence since waking up in this era. Things were happening quickly, faster than we could keep up, and it was clear that we had been playing into a grander scheme of things. A ploy, a game. Prometheus was guiding us, but to what end?

The question hung heavily in the silence of my sanctuary. And while there was much to be done, much to plan and prepare for, it was a question I couldn't shake off. What was the endgame in this grand chess match of time and power that the regime and Prometheus is playing at?

The dialogue with Prometheus left a bitter taste in my mouth, and an even harsher echo in my mind. I had to focus, to recalibrate. The more I understood about this world and the chessboard we were pieces on, the less control I felt.

There was a place I needed to go—a network of informants, a black market for information and rumors that swirled around the city like a constant, quiet storm. Located in the underbelly of Paradise City, hidden amidst the grimy alcoves and graffiti-drenched walls, it thrived on whispers and shadows. It was here that I hoped to find some clarity, or at least a distraction.

I ventured into the seedy depths of the black market hub, the clamor of clandestine deals and hushed conversations echoing off the narrow, brick-laden corridors. The informant, a wiry old woman named Ophelia with a knack for collecting stories, welcomed me with a sly smile.

"Alexander the Great, as I live and breathe," she crooned, her gaze sharp and calculating. "What brings you to my humble establishment?"

After a lengthy exchange, she imparted an intriguing rumor—a shadowy figure lurking around the city, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. An unidentified figure, powerful and elusive, a nightmare brought to life. I thanked her for the information with a handful of tokens.

With the image of this mysterious figure fresh in my mind, I wandered back into the labyrinthine city, its neon lights casting eerie shadows that danced across the grimy walls. An odd sensation prickled at the back of my neck, like I was being watched. A flash of movement in the corner of my eye, a dark figure, and then... pain.

The world blurred and spun as a force collided with my side, sending me sprawling across the wet pavement. As I struggled to regain my senses, I found myself staring up at a silhouette framed by the neon lights of the city.

Once the light hit the figure's face, I immediately recognized them from my prior journey for knowledge on the internet. A being of terrible portents and senseless destruction... of death.

"Ivan Vasilyevich, the Terrible," I muttered, recognizing the imposing figure from history. His cold eyes, once belonging to the first tsar of Russia, stared down at me with a cruel glint. A cruel smile twisted his lips, and he raised his arm, revealing a sleek, cybernetic gauntlet weapon.

"I was hoping for a more... grand introduction, Alexander," he said, his voice resonating with a chilling, cruel amusement. "But this will do."

My heart pounded in my chest as I stared up at this new enemy, an anomaly like us, but unlike us in every other way. A dangerous, violent figure from history was now a very real threat in this world, and I was his next target.

The world was still spinning from his first attack, and as I tried to shake off the dizzying blow, I barely had time to roll away from another of Ivan's ruthless swings. This wasn't a duel, this was a dance with death, one where my partner was a madman.

"Ivan!" I gasped, attempting to parry an attack with my forearm, wincing as the force of it jarred my arm. "How... Why are you here? Why the murders?"

He merely laughed, a sound akin to the rumbling of thunder in a storm, booming and chilling. His attacks never let up, they were methodical, calculated, and driven by a fanatical force that was as frightening as it was dangerous.

"Isn't it simple, Alexander?" Ivan sneered, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "We're all puppets in this grand stage of a world, don't you see? Killing... It's a way to cut the strings, to reclaim control and save ourselves."

I narrowly dodged another swing, my mind racing, looking for an opening, a way out, a strategy to turn the tide in my favor.

"But why innocent people?" I choked out, barely managing to keep up with his relentless onslaught.

"Innocence," Ivan spat, "is a luxury, a façade in all worlds. Everyone's guilty of something."

His words were a cacophony in my mind, echoes of a harsh truth that this dystopian future held. In the face of such ruthless nihilism, my survival instincts were screaming at me, telling me to fight, to hold on, to not give in to the darkness that Ivan the Terrible embodied.

The shockwave of another one of Ivan's hits reverberated through my bones as I staggered backwards. In my years of training and combat, I had never encountered a force like this. Ivan's relentless onslaught left me no option. I had to retreat, had to regroup, and come up with a plan. So, I ran.

As I darted through the streets of Paradise City, the cacophony of his laughter echoing in my ears, I fumbled for my comms device to send for help. Ivan was only a few steps behind me, his steps thunderous and his laughter maddening.

"Qin!" I gasped into the device, struggling to keep my footing. The static hissed and crackled. "I need...assistance. Ivan...Terrible...chasing..."

The signal cut out. I cursed under my breath, the device proving to be as unreliable as the world we now found ourselves in. I felt a surge of adrenaline, fear and determination mingling and fueling my flight. I could not afford to be caught. I could not afford to fail.

As I ran, I could hear the sounds of Ivan's pursuit growing louder. The terror he evoked in this dystopian world was palpable. I could see it in the faces of the people who watched us with wide, fearful eyes as we tore through their city.

My mind raced as I sprinted down alleyways and across bridges, trying to lose Ivan in the alleyways of this damned city. I couldn't help but question how things had gotten to this point. Was there a larger game at play that we were not privy to? Had we walked right into a trap set by Ivan by coincidence or, even worse, by Evelyn and the regime?

There was no more running to be done. My side throbbed with a pain that was a constant reminder of my mortality. The alley I'd run out of was a dead end street with just a river under it. Ivan appeared at the entrance of the alleyway, a ghastly silhouette illuminated by the gloom of the neon lights. His eyes burned with madness and delight.

"In the end, they all stop running," Ivan drawled, his voice a cold, raspy echo. He stepped into the light, revealing his grotesque grin.

I pushed myself off a wall, wincing as a sharp pain shot through my side. Despite the agony, I raised my fists, ready to fight. I was not going down without a battle. I had faced worse than him. I was Alexander. I was the warrior king who'd never lost a battle. And I would not lose now.

"Stand down, Ivan," I demanded, using all the authority I could muster.

His laughter was like the harsh clang of bells. "Little man, little king, you do not command Ivan the Terrible!"

His insanity was clear as daylight. The once feared Tsar was now a puppet of his own delusions, consumed by his thirst for power. His legacy, it seemed, was not just of terror, but also madness.

"Ivan Vasilyevich IV," I said, using his full name. "Remember your duty. Your duty to your people, to your land. Not this."

His gaze faltered for a moment, a flicker of confusion passing through his eyes. But then it was gone, replaced once again with the wild delight of a predator. "I am the Tsar! I am the land! And you," he pointed a finger at me, "are my prey."

I was not his prey. I was not anyone's prey. And as he charged at me, I met him head-on. I might have been injured, but I was still Alexander. And I would fight. I would fight until my last breath.

I squared off with Ivan, each of us assessing the other. In a flash, he charged again, his fists flying toward me. My side ached with the effort of dodging his onslaught, but I pushed through, retaliating with a punch of my own. Despite his size, Ivan moved with surprising speed, and he easily dodged my attacks.

"Ivan!" I gasped out, my breath ragged from exertion. "Why are you here in Paradise City? Why are you killing people?"

He laughed, a chilling sound that echoed off the dank walls of the alley. "Why does a Tsar rule? Why does a bear hunt? It is in our nature."

"But there must be more to it than that," I insisted, narrowly avoiding a blow to the head. "Who sent you?"

"No one sent Ivan," he growled, "Ivan is not a pawn. Ivan is a king!"

His delusions were stronger than I'd thought. His answers weren't helping me piece together why this was happening. Was it truly a coincidence that we'd crossed paths?

A low growl rumbled in his chest. "Stop asking questions, little king, and fight!"

"Ivan," I continued, hoping to distract him with my words. "Was this a trap you set for me, or a ploy by the regime?"

Ivan laughed again. "You think too much, little king! I kill because it pleases me. And you, Alexander, will be my greatest kill."

His words were a cold, harsh reminder of the man he once was and the monster he'd become. The Tsar of All Russia, a man remembered for his descent into madness and his rule of terror. Now, he was an embodiment of his former self, a shadow given form in this city of shadows.

As he lunged towards me once again, I realized that Ivan was more than a simple problem. He was a threat, not just to me but to the city and its inhabitants. I had to stop him. But I needed a plan, something to give me an advantage.

It was clear to me that this was turning into a battle of attrition. Ivan the Terrible, a formidable figure whose strength, size, and mania made him an adversary unlike any I'd faced. Each assault he launched pushed me further back, narrowing my chances of victory. Each hit I landed seemed to bounce off him, barely leaving an impact.

I remembered my lessons from Aristotle, who taught me to think critically, to analyze situations and consider every angle. I thought back to the battles I led in my time, the strategies I used to outwit opponents who were often numerically superior or better equipped.

Phalanx formation - that would be of no use here. Siege tactics - irrelevant in this one-on-one combat. Guerilla warfare, using the element of surprise... Now that was a thought.

Recalling the stories of Diomedes, a hero of the Trojan War, I remembered the night raids he carried out, surprising his enemies and sowing chaos. Could I apply a similar tactic in this fight? Ivan was powerful, but he seemed to rely on brute force and intimidation. If I could confuse him, make him question where the next attack would come from, I might be able to turn the tide.

As I danced back from another of Ivan's frenzied charges, I grabbed a piece of debris from the ground - a small chunk of concrete. I feinted left, then right, trying to pull his attention away. I threw the concrete against a nearby dumpster, the clattering sound echoing through the alley.

Ivan's head whipped towards the noise, and in that moment of distraction, I charged, putting all my strength into a punch aimed at his jaw.

"Surprised, Ivan?" I grunted, as he reeled back from the blow.

"Little king has tricks," he spat back, blood staining his teeth. But I could see the surprise in his eyes.

Despite my efforts, Ivan the Terrible still stood before me, a monstrous figure, bloodied but unbowed. His eyes glinted with an unhinged ferocity that sent a shiver through me.

"Any more tricks?" he snarled, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. "It won't help you, Alexander."

Suddenly, he lunged, his movements startlingly quick for a man of his size. I barely managed to deflect his blows, each one stronger than the last. His relentless attack forced me back, step by painful step, until my back was against the cold, graffiti-ridden wall.

I clenched my fists, every muscle in my body screaming in protest as I forced myself to keep standing. I couldn't afford to go down, not yet. I knew I couldn't last much longer against Ivan's brute force.

The old adage of my former teacher, Aristotle, echoed in my mind. "Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom." But what did I know about myself that could turn the tide here? I was Alexander the Great, a conqueror, a king. But here, now, that meant little. I was just a man, flesh and blood, pitted against a nightmare from history.

"Ready to die?" Ivan sneered, bearing down on me.

"In your dreams, Ivan," I spat back, attempting a brave smile, though I felt anything but.

I noticed something then, a faint glow emanating from the corner of the alley, a small holographic display flickering intermittently. A digital billboard - it was a stretch, but it might be my only chance.

With a deep breath, I launched myself at Ivan, putting every ounce of my remaining strength into a desperate attack. It was a ploy, a distraction, and I prayed that it would be enough. I needed him to focus on me, not the device I was heading for.

As Ivan grappled with me, I managed to fumble with the controls on the billboard. With a burst of static, it sprang to life, projecting a blinding, disorienting light into Ivan's eyes.

He roared in surprise and frustration, momentarily blinded. Seizing the opportunity, I landed a blow on his midsection, then another to his face, my punches fueled by adrenaline and desperation.

"Wait, wait Alexander, have mercy!" Ivan suddenly pleaded, his arms up and shaking to protect against my slowing flurry of punches. His words were unexpected, his eerie calmness even more so. His eyes no longer held the gleam of bloodlust that marked our earlier encounter. Instead, they were glazed over, his gaze distant. His shoulders sagged, his monstrous demeanor replaced with a weariness that seemed out of place.

"Ivan?" I asked cautiously, my fists gripped but stopping my attack momentarily.

"My mind has been cleared, freed from the chains they bound me to, Alexander - my king!" he shakily said with the confusion of a child who has just realized the wrong he had committed.

"They...they controlled me," he whispered, his voice raspy. "The regime...they turned me into this monster."

"I'm sorry Ivan, but they will get their just desserts," I felt relief as the fatigue washed over my calming breath. "Let's work together to bring the war to them - take the regime down as a united front." I released one of my fists to extend a hand to help him up...

Suddenly, the world tilted as I realized Ivan's gauntlet connected with my ribs. I grunted in pain and stumbled back, gasping for breath. I could see the triumph in his eyes as he circled me, closing in for the kill.

"A king, you say?" he laughed, his voice echoing through the night. "More like a weak boy, a fool dancing to the tune of cruel fate!"

I kept my eyes on Ivan, now filled with a greater rage that burned from hell and back. My mind raced, searching for a strategy, a tactic, anything to turn the tide of this deceit. But every plan seemed to disintegrate as the world started flickering and drifting around me.

"Enough!" Ivan roared. "Your time is done, Alexander."

With a final, brutal blow, he knocked me off my feet, and I fell towards the rushing river behind me. My body hit the icy water with a splash, and I was immediately swept away by the cold, icy current.

"Alas for me a sinner, woe to me in my despair, Oh me, in my foulness..." was he reciting a prayer, or a confession? Who knows? I could barely keep my eyes open now.

As I drifted away, I could still hear Ivan's voice, gloating in the distance. "You should have stayed in your tomb, little king," he taunted. "This world...this Paradise City is not for the likes of you. Here, only the strong survive. And you...you are weak!"

His laughter filled my ears as the dark waters closed over me, and I sank into the depths of the water around me.

[Volume 1 End]