The silence of the cell didn't last.

  It was shattered by a sound that Elias knew in his bones—the screeching, rhythmic wail of the lockdown alarm. It was a sound designed to induce panic, bouncing off the concrete walls like a trapped bird.

  Red light. Blue light. Red light. The corridor outside flooded with strobing emergency colors.

  Elias instinctively flinched, backing away from the open door. "They know," he hissed, grabbing the sleeve of the Stranger’s grey coat. "We need to run. The Extraction Team—they don't carry handcuffs, they carry riot shotguns. They won't ask questions."

  The Stranger did not flinch. He did not look at the flashing lights with fear, but with a mild, almost scientific curiosity.

  "I do not run from my children, Elias," the Stranger said calmly, his voice cutting through the siren's wail. "Even the unruly ones."

  "They aren't children," Elias shouted over the noise. "They are monsters."

  "There are no monsters," the Stranger corrected, stepping out into the chaotic hallway. "Only broken mirrors."

  At the far end of the corridor, the heavy security doors burst open with a pneumatic hiss. Six men stormed in. They were clad in black tactical armor, faces hidden behind reflective visors, bodies hulking with Kevlar and ceramic plates. They moved with the terrifying coordination of a machine.

  "TARGETS ACQUIRED!" the lead guard bellowed, his voice amplified by a helmet speaker. He raised a heavy, black baton. "ON THE GROUND! FACE DOWN! NOW!"

  Elias dropped to his knees. It was muscle memory. In this place, standing up was an act of aggression. Survival meant submission.

  But the Stranger remained standing.

  He stood in the center of the flashing hallway, hands clasped loosely behind his back, looking at the charging squad as if they were rushing to hug him.

  "DOWN!" the lead guard screamed, closing the distance. "I SAID DOWN!"

  When the Stranger didn't move, the guard didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, swinging the baton with a practiced, brutal arc aimed directly at the Stranger’s temple. It was a blow meant to shatter bone.

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  Elias squeezed his eyes shut.

  CRACK.

  The sound was sickening—the wet, sharp noise of impact.

  But Elias didn't hear a body hit the floor. He heard a scream.

  It wasn't the Stranger.

  Elias opened his eyes.

  The Stranger was still standing, untouched. The baton had stopped inches from his head, halted by an invisible barrier.

  The guard, however, was on the floor. He was writhing, clutching his own head, howling in agony. Blood trickled from his temple—the exact spot where he had tried to strike the Stranger.

  The other five guards froze, their boots skidding on the linoleum. They looked from their fallen leader to the man in the grey coat.

  "What did you do?" one of them yelled, panic cracking his voice. He raised a taser, the red laser dot dancing on the Stranger’s chest. "Stay back!"

  "I did nothing," the Stranger said softly. "He simply received what he gave."

  The guard pulled the trigger.

  Pop-hiss. Two barbed probes shot through the air.

  They struck the Stranger’s coat—and instantly, the guard who fired them arched his back and screamed. He seized up, his muscles locking as 50,000 volts of electricity coursed through his own nervous system. He collapsed, twitching uncontrollably on the floor, while the Stranger stood perfectly still, the taser wires hanging harmlessly from his lapel.

  The remaining four guards scrambled backward, tripping over each other. They were men trained for violence, prepared for riots and shanks. They were not prepared for this. Their weapons—the tools of their power—had suddenly become their enemies.

  The Stranger stepped over the twitching body of the taser-wielder.

  "Violence is a circle," the Stranger said, his voice echoing in the sudden quiet of the corridor. "For too long, you have thrown pain into the world and thought it vanished. But energy cannot be destroyed. It can only return."

  He looked at the guards huddled against the wall.

  "From this moment on, the circle is closed. What you give, you shall receive. Instantly."

  The guards didn't move. They were terrified. They looked at their guns as if they were holding venomous snakes.

  The Stranger turned to Elias and offered a hand.

  "Get up, Elias."

  Elias stared at the carnage. No one had died, but the balance of power had shifted so violently that the room felt tilted. The invincible enforcers of the state were cowering on the floor, defeated by their own aggression.

  Elias took the Stranger's hand and stood up. He looked at the lead guard, who was sobbing quietly, cradling his fractured skull.

  "They felt it," Elias whispered, a dawn of understanding breaking in his eyes. "They felt exactly what they tried to do to you."

  "Empathy," the Stranger said, walking toward the exit. "It is a terrible burden for the cruel, and a shield for the righteous."

  They reached the heavy steel doors at the end of the hall. The Stranger didn't push them. They simply unlocked and swung open, bowing to his presence.

  Beyond the doors lay the night air. It smelled of city smog and rain, but to Elias, it smelled like the sweetest perfume he had ever known.

  "Where to?" Elias asked, his voice steady for the first time in years.

  The Stranger looked toward the glittering skyline in the distance, where the skyscrapers pierced the clouds like needles of gold and glass.

  "The prison of stone is open," the Stranger said. "Now we must visit the prison of gold."

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  Next Chapter: We are leaving the prison and heading to the Corporate Sector. It turns out, CEOs are much harder to deal with than guards. See you there!