Metahuman Maximum Security Penitentiary
Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, Now

His eyes focused intently on the smooth complexion of the young woman that was presented before him. It was almost difficult for him to believe she had done what she had been accused of but Josiah Kone was a man that was capable of swiftly adapting to the ever changing world of mystics and miscreants that now formed around what had once been a sheltered upbringing. His time at the African Union had been short but life in Addis Ababa could not be complained about, it was a world ahead of most of the African continent and thus, it was good enough for the various political representatives that now provided from it. It was also the nearly perfect target for anyone who wished to upset the balance of Africa’s political ties – he had heard it crudely referred to as an anarchists wet dream and he couldn’t say he was shocked when such a thought had become a reality. He lived in a city under lockdown but that was a closely guarded secret by the segment of the African Union that contracted him. Josiah was not a politician, he was a secret serviceman and one who held a fairly admirable rank at this early point in his life.

Dealing with prisoners and mass murderers was not normally an example of his talents but when the world needed protecting, he found himself able to dirty his own hands for the production of a safe future. Addis Ababa was his world and she needed saving from monsters that no one could have expected ten years ago but had become all too common since the birth of western ideologies and a generation of costumed vigilantes. Africa, considered backwards and primitive by the majority of the globe, was not one to be left behind. He had been tasked with gathering and establishing a kingdom from which they could rule and protect the entire continent without the assistance – or interference – of external parties. The African Union had long awaited an insular control over their own countries that was not dictated by the aid of outside politics. It was his mission to make that dream a reality, whatever the cost but Josiah Kone was not a foolish or reckless man.

“Commencing the interview and psychological evaluation of Felicitas Nambi–“

“Flick,” interjected the girl. He paused and turned to face her with a stern expression that only enhanced the crow’s feet that etched around his eyes.

“Heretofore addressed on as Flick,” continued Josiah as he adjusted his introduction of the irritable beauty. His eyes remained downcast as he shuffled through the paperwork he had been handed on his entry to the prison. “In relation to the crimes committed in the city Mao of the Republic of Chad on August 9, 2012 and the organisation and distribution of political pardons in connection to the military operation known as ‘the Kingdom’.” His eyes met with Flick’s and he immediately understood her confusion but the protocol had been quickly dealt with and he could now conduct the interview less formerly than had been previously necessary.

Josiah liked protocol as much as the next person but he wasn’t an enthusiast. He found a fine line between the laws and complete anarchy, especially in his riotous continent.

“Flick,” he said abruptly. “Can you take me through the night of the ninth, please?”

She shrugged her shoulders, allowing her dark raven ponytail to shift across her orange jumpsuit. “I’ve been through this already. My case closed six months ago and I just want to be left in peace.” Flick leaned towards him, elbows on the table that divided them. “I don’t know who you are but I don’t need any appeals, and I’m not asking for any.” She waved to the unresponsive guard positioned by the door. “I think we’re done here.”

He cleared his throat. “My apologies, Flick. My name is Josiah Kone and I’m an agent working in correlation with the African Union in dealing with a threat that’s currently causing issue in the world beyond these walls. Personal feelings aside, you have abilities that may be considered useful and I need to ensure that you are capable before we continue. This is not an appeal against your crime. This is your country considering whether or not they choose to conscript you into active military service.”

“I–“

“Have no say in the matter,” interjected the Kenyan whilst adjusting his glasses. “The Republic of Chad has already offered you as a candidate in lieu of your sentence. So, if we can please begin with the night of the ninth?” He finished by sliding a piece of paper listing exactly what he had just announced to her.

Flick’s face remained composed but he watched for the slightest falter in her façade. He prayed that she would have a fiery outburst and he held no regrets about his desires. To protect Addis Ababa, and indeed the rest of Africa would surely follow, Josiah would put his personal feelings to one side but he could not forget the atrocities that she had committed. The agent would shelve them but they would always be on his mind, even if she were innocent there was an instability that worried him. Still, she passed the document back to him and leant back in the seat – bemused but not overtly angered by the situation. It was part of his coarseness to test whether or not she would rise to his baiting and insensitivity.

“I don’t understand what your evaluation will prove to you or your seniors but if you insist on further removing my human rights then who am I to complain,” she said bluntly, sarcasm laced on her tongue like poison. “It had been a good day. I had spent the day assisting my father in his pastoral duties as the parish pastor. Mao is a moderately sized city but the Christian community is an insular one and I have worked within it since I was old enough to run my first fundraiser. I was once awarded a medal for my contributions by the mayor–”

“This is not a character statement, Flick, kindly focus on the night in question.”

“Sure.”

Dawnfire in…

FLAMES OF THE BEAUTY, OR EMBERS LEFT TO DIE

By

Paige McMahon

with a scripting assist from Jason McDonald

August 9, 2012
Mao, Republic of Chad

Flick stepped from the car as she slammed the door shut behind her. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she stood, backlit by the fading sun, and waited for Dek to come onto the veranda of the building that had once been a thriving plantation. It had been decades since there had been any activity on the property before today but Flick and her father worked closely in establishing the refuge. In a world where war lords manipulated children into monstrosities, Flick could give back in the only way she knew how. It had been her idea but she couldn’t deny her father had played a large role in establishing the reality that now stood before her. He had even found the social worker, a former child soldier, which was best suited to lead the rescued children on a path towards enlightenment. Flick, less diehard yet equally as faithful, saw the benefits of education more than her father and had enlisted herself to act as a teacher and governess amongst them. Dek appeared before her, a wide smile framed by dreadlocks that rested on the shoulders of his green t-shirt.

He wasn’t a particularly handsome man but Flick could value a person more for their attributes than common prettiness. Dek had quickly asserted himself as enamoured with the young volunteer schoolteacher but her gentle rejections had kept him at arm’s length and so they continued to work together amidst occasional and mild flirtations. Flick had wisely refrained from expressing that information to her father – despite his godly demeanour he was an over cautious and unforgiving man as many had learned beforehand.

“Felicia,” he called to her.  More than once she had reprimanded him for giving her pet names but as he continued to do so, she had given up and reluctantly accepted them. When named something as ridiculous as Felicitas, there was very little worse that anyone could possibly use to refer to her. Still, as he waved her onwards, she took her first steps towards what would be her new home for the foreseeable future.

She lifted the singular suitcase that rest by her feet, leaving the books in the boot of her car until the morning. Flick had only reached the steps of the veranda when Dek bounded towards her with a jovial expression and took hold of the case, escorting her into the premises. Pride stretched across his face as he introduced her to the newly refurbished plantation that he had taken charge of on his own accord. It was more of replenishment than anything else but she smiled encouragingly nonetheless. Flick may not have been clear enough in her prior refusals if he was still trying so hard to earn her praise but she relented in having done all that she could have done. He had no sooner attempted to address her than a tremendous yelp was heard from the doorway and the duo turned to identify a young former soldier.

“Miss Flick,” she grinned as she rushed forward to grasp the slender waist of the nineteen year old beauty. “I have been looking forward to some learning, ‘specially since we’re all together under the same roof.”

Smiling, Flick ruffled in her coat pocket and drew from it her keys. “Well, why don’t you go and help yourself to a book a tad early, Rachel. It’ll be our secret.” She offered a slight wink as the young girl disappeared hurriedly out of the doorway.  Before Dek could make his announcement, Flick decided to excuse herself. “It’s been a long day. I’d best go and prepare myself for bed. I’ll see you and the children bright and early in the morning, Dek. Sleep well.” She moved forward but his hand stopped her.

“I–“

“Surely everything can wait to the morning. Excuse me.”

Again he blocked her path to the stairs. It had been frustrating the first time but he was beginning to seriously annoy her and her dream of the refuge would be a nightmare if he was to continue with such childish games. Instead of losing her temper like she would have liked to, Flick maintained her ladylike composure and allotted a third and final chance to the social worker from Salamat. It could have been standard behaviour there but she knew to expect a little better in her own city.

“Now that I’ve finally got you alone, I wanted to say how much it means to me to have you on board. If you’d like to come with me, I’ve had some thoughts on how we could –“

“Please, it’s been a long day and I had better prepare myself for bed. I’ll see you and the children bright and early in the morning for lessons. Sleep well.” She moved towards the stairs with an enhanced speed.

“Felicitas–”

“Dek,” she snapped. “I am very tired. Move out of my way before I lose my patience. It has been a long day and tomorrow will be the same.” He made no attempt. “Move.” Yet he stood still before her.

Flick pushed him from her path but he caught at her arm and slammed her against the newly painted walls. She hit her head hard on the frame of the painting and was almost sure she could feel blood on her head. Flick may have been an innocent girl for her age that had spent too much time in choir practice or watching her father in the pulpit but she was not ignorant. There was a dark world in every country but it was much higher in the patriarchal society of Africa, of men who believed that women where possessions to be claimed and rewards for the attention they had given. Dek seemingly fell into this category but he seemed surprised and pleased that Flick didn’t cry out as one would have expected. Instead, he ran his hand through her hair and pulled the white hairband free – revealing traces of blood – but never broke eye contact.

“I’ve waited long enough, Felicia.”

She snarled at him. “You’ll wait much longer, you fool.” She pushed forward but Dek was physically stronger and slammed her back into place, capable even though he held her with only one hand.

Dek leaned in. His breath warm against her neck. “My waiting is done. Pretty dolls were made to be played with.”

“I’m not your doll.”

His lips had scarcely touched her neck when she saw Rachel hovering in the doorway, frightened and crying. Flick acted quickly. She drew her knee into the crotch of the man who held her and forced herself free. Tripping as she bounced from his grasp and knocking over a nearby vase. “Rachel,” she screamed. “Run!” In that moment, Felicitas Nambi felt unadulterated fear and she made the promise that she would never do so again. Rising to her feet, she looked the picturesque choir girl that she had always been but her mind was much keener than constantly credited for. Her floral baby doll dress swayed as she watched the fourteen year old Rachel dive from sight and disappear towards the car. Flick made to follow but arms caught her as she reached the door and hoisted her back into the foyer of the plantation. Dek slammed the door shut as he thrust her onto the ground.

Looking down from above, he snarled. “I didn’t like that.”

His arms stretched towards her as Flick felt her body overcome with a rush of heat – like a fever. Breath caught in her throat and she closed her eyes but she waited for a horror that would never come. Instead, Flick would find herself the monster in the story to be told. It wasn’t until she opened her eyes amidst the screaming that the choir girl saw the face of her attacker almost melting on the right-hand side. Horrified, the girl stumbled away from the screeching man only to bump into the bannister of the ornate stairway and reveal the horrible truth – she was the cause. Moments after she had made contact with the bannister, it burst alight.

No longer did a youthful woman stand in the centre of the foyer. In her place was a living creature of raging flames that soon consumed the former plantation and everyone in it. Yet, Flick felt no remorse.

Metahuman Maximum Security Penitentiary
Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, Now

“Then the refuge burnt to the ground.”

Flick’s bluntness stopped short of astounding him. Josiah Kone recognised an astonishing unforgiving coldness in her character that he would have considered unlikely for someone of her religious affiliations. Her lack of remorse was strikingly non-Christian. Adjusting his glasses, he simply stared at her with an expectant look as if something vital had been left unsaid. It wasn’t the case but he wanted to see if he could drive a reaction from her, yet Flick in all of her dignity remained composed and stoic. She had delivered the story in a way that made him almost feel as if she considered it disconnected from her life – as if it had involved someone else entirely. He didn’t understand that despite the circumstances, Flick didn’t consider that part of her life to be her own personal tragedy. It was the tragedy of the child soldiers that had died because of her inability to maintain control.

She told their story.

“By the time Rachel had retrieved the authorities they were all dead and I was waiting for my punishment on the front lawn. That’s my recount of events, Agent Kone.”

He nodded as he opened a folder before him. “This would be Rachel Niamo, your accomplice who escaped from custody on August 11, 2012 when she became considered as a suspect?”

Flick smirked. “Rachel was never complicit. It was my ability and my lack of control that killed Dek and those twenty nine children. There is no one to blame but myself. Rachel was a bystander who ran because she knew she couldn’t prove her innocence. I’m not sure if your aware but innocent people have a habit of getting punished in this country regardless of their claims.” It was a snarky remark.

“Rachel’s running says otherwise.”

Flick shrugged. “Take from it what you will, Agent Kone. The sinners are rarely the persecuted in these affairs and I’m sure wherever Rachel has escaped too, she lives a much better and freer life there.”

His mind had come to a conclusion.

Josiah stood. “I think that’s all that I need for today, Flick. Should we need you in the future then we’ll come calling but unfortunately I don’t see much use in dragging you into a war at the time being. I’ll inform the Republic of Chad that their application to conscript you has been denied.” He turned the guard. “We’re done here.”

Josiah Kone exited without another word. Addis Ababa would need to find its saviours elsewhere.