Tag: Sci Fi

Benson thought the knife made him important. The Judge’s emblem gleamed on the crosspiece, demanding reverence. Atriya had seen real plasma blades before — weapons built for war, not theater. This one was just a symbol. So Atriya kicked it into the gutter and watched the emblem disappear into the dark.

Every other shooter kept their linkup active. Atriya kept his locked in a cabinet. Sometimes he would open the door and stare at it — the promise of easier strength waiting inside. All he had to do was put it on. But something inside him refused.

Verus tried to teach Atriya patience. Rhythm. Timing. Control. Fighting without rage. Atriya understood the lessons. He even respected them. But when violence arrived, something older woke up inside him — a storm of strikes waiting for someone foolish enough to light the fuse.

Every Crew shooter knew the command. Boost me. The linkup flooded the body with adrenaline and chemical triggers, sharpening reaction speed beyond human limits. For a few moments, a Crusader became something engineered. Most operators loved the feeling. Atriya feared it.

The ring wasn’t about faith. It was about power. Jurors wore it as a signal that the hierarchy protected them — and most people knew better than to challenge it. When Benson offered the ring for Atriya to kiss, he didn’t hesitate. He said no.

Benson wanted reverence for the Judge. Atriya had seen what “reverence” looked like when it was forced on people who didn’t belong. Broken teeth. Whispered threats. Untouchable power. So when the knife with the Judge’s emblem hit the ground, Atriya didn’t hesitate. He kicked it into the gutter.

The Crusader linkup was designed to inspire fear. A black spinal rig worn by elite operators — a symbol civilians immediately recognized. Atriya understood the appeal. He just wasn’t sure it represented the kind of warrior he wanted to become.

The Neural Linkup Enhancement was never meant to look human. But it did. Segmented black vertebrae.Artificial nerves.Needle-thin tines that buried themselves into the shooter’s back. The Department called it optimization. Most operators wore their rigs constantly.Sleeping. Walking. Drinking in the quiet awe of civilians. Atriya kept his in a cabinet. Because the question wasn’t whether…