LGHTNOVELBOOK Chapter 8: A prisoners surprise
Luther's hands were bound in glowing, electric cuffs that hummed faintly with energy.
The cuffs tightened whenever he moved, reminding him of his helplessness.
They ushered him onto a sleek jet that shimmered with metallic hues under the pale, alien sky. Its design was streamlined and angular, almost predatory.
A bold inscription on the side read "Aetherion Mk-VII."
Inside, the jet was eerily silent, with smooth, metallic walls and dim blue lights glowing from hidden panels.
The hum of advanced technology vibrated through the air.
Luther was seated between two guards wearing futuristic white suits with sharp, segmented armor.
Their helmets, shaped like elongated visors, obscured their faces entirely.
The material looked almost organic, shifting faintly with their movements.
As the Aetherion soared above the city, Luther's eyes widened.
Towering structures twisted and turned in impossible angles, their shapes defying the laws of gravity.
The buildings shimmered like liquid glass under an iridescent sky that shifted hues pink, orange, and deep purple like an oil spill.
The city below bustled with strange vehicles darting through the air, their engines producing no sound.
He couldn't help but marvel at the sight, despite his dire situation. "What kind of messed-up timeline did I land in?" he muttered to himself.
"Focus," Peter interjected in his usual monotone. "You'll have plenty of time to admire their architecture when you're not in glowing handcuffs."
The jet slowed as they approached the tallest building in the city. It pierced the sky like a jagged spear, its surface gleaming with golden light.
The landing bay opened, and Luther was escorted out into a cold, sterile hangar.
"Welcome," a sharp voice greeted him.
Luther's gaze shifted to a tall woman in a pristine white lab coat standing before him.
Her expression was icy, her lips pressed into a thin line. She wasn't impressed, not even slightly.
One of the guards beside him removed their helmet, revealing a woman with short brown hair streaked with vibrant pink.
Her striking lemon-yellow eyes pierced through him, their unnatural color a glaring reminder of the Illuminate Vortex explosion.
The realization hit Luther like a punch to the gut. She's mutated. That must be from the vortex's energy… from him.
His stomach twisted with guilt, but he swallowed it down.
"You came to applaud us for failing again?" the pink-streaked woman sneered, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"No, Aleria," the woman in the lab coat interjected coldly. "You managed to capture something far more valuable, the man who destroyed the timeline."
Luther winced at the accusation, but her words left no room for argument.
"Bring him to the Breaking Cell," the woman ordered with a dismissive wave of her hand. "The Captain will interrogate him personally."
Aleria rolled her eyes dramatically and signaled to the guards. "Move forward. Quickly. He's a dangerous and volatile prisoner."
Volatile? Him? Luther thought, scoffing silently.
They led him down a labyrinth of sterile white corridors before arriving at a small, square-shaped metal box.
Without ceremony, the guards shoved him inside. The door slammed shut, leaving him in total silence.
His stomach growled loudly, breaking the tense moment. "Well, this is great," he muttered.
Peter sighed in his usual exasperated tone. "Yes, a truly marvelous accomplishment."
Luther dusted off his clothes and glanced around the room.
The walls gleamed like polished steel, but there was something unsettling about them. He ran his fingers along the surface, but it felt unnaturally smooth, almost alive.
"What is this thing?" he whispered.
Peter answered immediately, his tone clinical. "The cell is constructed from a multi-layered alloy designed to absorb and neutralize energy fluctuations. Any attempt to channel your vortex energy will result in immediate suppression."
Luther's heart sank. "So I'm completely stuck?"
"Yes. Good luck," Peter replied flatly.
Panic bubbled up inside him. "We have to get out of here," he whispered, pacing the room.
Before Peter could respond, a speaker crackled to life, and a robotic voice echoed through the cell. "Subject 100, Mr. Luther. Take your seat at the desk on the right."
Luther hesitated but eventually complied, sitting down in the cold metal chair in front of a sleek desk. The tension in the air was suffocating.
The doors to the cell hissed open, and a figure stepped inside.
She was wearing the same white, segmented suit as the guards, but something about her was different, her presence commanded the room.
Her gait was purposeful, her movements sharp and deliberate.
Luther's breath caught in his throat as she pulled off her helmet.
It was Amanda.