The Mercy in Punishment: Chapter 2 – Fighting Against the Downtrodden

Chapter 2 – Fighting Against the Downtrodden

I get all of the Dominion and police I know to look into the attackers and get to work myself when I enter the Dominion’s office with Raziel, aiding me in my research. Hours and hours of research tell me a lot of what I know. The members of the Neglected are all people who are noted as being poor, handicapped in some way, and received help from charities, rehabilitation centers, and welfare. They all had jobs serving others in health, charities, law enforcement, military, hero associations, and some were ex-criminals and villains who turned a new leaf, only to be seemingly let down. I can’t help but feel guilty for what happened to them since the Dominion tries to help all these kinds of people, and we’ve clearly not done as good a job as we like to advertise.

Keeping my mind on the task at hand, I scour the records for a sniper and someone who uses psychological powers. In my search, the most likely suspect for a sniper I have is who’s associated with the Neglected is a woman named Zahara. She’s an ex-cop, ex-military, who gave life and literal limbs in service for the country she protected, but when she got tired of the life and tried to get back to normality, she was found wanting for service for veterans, and the bills maintaining her new body were too much to handle. Looking at the time, I see that it’s late afternoon and the sun is starting to set in the sky. There’s no time to rest, so I’m about to get up to tell Raziel who we’re going after, but he comes to me first and brings my attention to the news.

I turn to it on my computer and watch the local media outlets talk positively about the Neglected. That they’re just suffering souls lashing out against a system that kicked them while they were down. I also see that they’ve taken over an area of the city, known for its poor residents, and declared it independent from the rest of the country, which they say failed it.

Zahara is then featured, says the same as the others have, and then says, “We take what is ours and what we built up. What we fought and worked for day and night to maintain and protect. Do we not have the right to it? If you disagree with us, such as the members of the Dominion, then you can come and try to rob us again.”

Turning off the video, I get up and say to Raziel, “If she wants us to be the villains, then let’s do it.”

“Agreed,” Raziel says as he follows me out of the building.

We drive a Dominion-affiliated police car down to the area Zahara and the Neglected have taken over and get ready for a fight by putting on our helmets and unsheathing our weapons. The area around the neighborhood is surrounded by police, a crowd of people with picket signs calling for the Neglected to get what they want, picket signs for those opposing them, and media personalities of all kinds covering the situation. Raziel and I push our way through all the groups and approach the Neglected, who are holding guns and wielding their powers like a threat towards us.

“You two are the only ones who are going to take us on? Do you have a death wish?” one of the Neglected asks.

“We could say the same thing about you,” Raziel shoots back. “Where are your borders?”

“Huh?”

“An independent neighborhood needs borders. Here, let me make them for you.”

Raziel uses his flames to create a barrier of fire that surrounds the Neglected’s territory, starting the fight. Using my psychological powers, I question each person’s motives and use the last vestiges of their God given conscience against them.

“I know you’re all hurting and sacrificed so much for the sake of others, but getting little to nothing in return,” I say in their minds. “If you give yourselves up and turn on those who are manipulating you, I promise that you’ll get your due reward with no punishment at all.”

Some listen to me, remembering their families and friends, their religion, and that they’re simply acting on emotion. Then some are selfish and choose to want more than what they are due, and those who are desperate, who think they are too far gone and have to go through with their plan, or else suffer death or a worse fate in prison. I continue to use my power on them to convince them to change their minds, all the while knocking out some and killing others. At the same time, Raziel is using his hand scythe to cut off cybernetic and prosthetic limbs to pacify our attackers. The supernatural flames surrounding the neighborhood begin to rain down on people, burning some to ash and somehow leaving others alive and unconscious.

“Come out, Zahara! You wanted this fight, and you got it!” I yell out.

The converted Neglected on my side throw themselves into the battle in front of me, taking shots meant for me as penance for their actions, and sometimes dying in the process. After this, I’ll have to find a way to memorialize their sacrifice eternally. For now, I focus on the fight in front of me, going where the converted say Zahara should be. With others fighting by my side to even the odds, I concentrate on using my psychological powers to throw off the aim, change the hearts of, or incapacitate the Neglected who are still fighting against us. Eventually, the numbers and the fight swing in my favor, and I now have over twenty converts on my side. This brief respite is taken away as sniper fire begins picking off the converted.

“Cover me! I need to get to Zahara!” I say.

Doing as I say, the converted Neglected shoots back at Zahara, while I go from building to building and car to car with the shields on my arms extended, trying to locate exactly where Zahara is. From what I see, she’s firing from cover, probably knowing that I need to see her so my powers can affect her. Seeing the source of the shots, which are coming from a three-story apartment building, I keep moving forward in a clear direction and rush into the building, with my armor and arm shields taking shot after shot that nearly hit my head and body.

“Come out, Zahara!” I say. “There’s nowhere you can run or hide!”

A shot originating from the upper floors that goes through the floors, hits my helmet, and breaks the part it hits, leaving my face bloodied. I run up the stairs, my arm shields covering my face and body as I take more sniper fire through the walls, until I reach the top floor, bust down the doors, and tackle Zahara through the windows just as my arm shields break, sending us through the window, and plummeting down the street. My armor saves me again as I’m only mildly hurt from the fall, which I shrug off, get back up, and hold my sword and pistol ready to fight. Meanwhile, Zahara’s cybernetics have saved her from suffering any major damage as she quickly rolls away from me and starts firing at me with her pistol and sniper.

With my eyes on her now, I see that she’s a bit different than the picture I saw in her file. She still has a mechanical sniper for a left arm, but her hair is now black and pink, her eyes are pink crosshairs, three pink lines around her eyes, and she’s dressed in a black and pink bodysuit with a utility belt around her waist where she holds her ammo. I fire my pistol back at her while running for cover and not taking my eyes off her as I use my psychological powers on her.

“It’s over, Zahara! Lay down your weapons!” I say.

“It’s not over until I die or get what I deserve!” she responds.

“I know you think what you’re doing is right, but you’re wrong! You’re doing more harm than good.”

“So what? Do you know what I’ve been through? Use those powers of yours to find out.”

I rush Zahara and use my sword to cut off her sniper arm. She tries not to let this stop her as she tries shooting me with her pistol, so I knock it out of her hand and put the blade of my sword to her throat.

“I see what you’ve been through and share in your pain. I see how you threw yourself into danger without a second thought as a cop and soldier for the sake of your country and loved ones, and struggled to pay your bills, but I also see the evil influence that’s forcing you to do what you otherwise wouldn’t. Why would an honorable cop and soldier shoot the mayor of the city she risked her life to protect?”

“You don’t know half of what I feel and have been through!”

“Do I? I’m doing the same thing you otherwise would if you were in your right mind.”

Zahara takes a knife out of her belt and sticks it into my armor. Thankfully, it doesn’t pierce all the way through, allowing me to further take her down and restrain her on the floor without trouble.

“Some cop and hero you are, letting your guard down when your enemy isn’t down for the count,” Zahara says. “It figures that you’d use force against the forgotten who are fighting a system that abandoned us, rather than try to help us. I thought you were supposed to be the merciful, good cop?”

I say, “This is mercy. I’m focusing on changing your heart and getting sloppy because of it. I know that the true you is still within your heart. That the woman who wanted to protect others and step up when no one else would is still in there.”

“This is stepping up! I’m still putting my life on the line for others!”

“You’re doing it for yourself first, and using the excuse of doing for others to justify the tragedy you’ve caused, and you know it! All you care about now is getting even without a care for the people you hurt along the way.”

“Shut up!” Zahara says as she struggles in my grasp. “I lost so much for the sake of others, friends, limbs, and a normal life. All my superiors cared for was that I acted as a weapon for them. They couldn't care less about what happened to me after I did what they wanted.”

“I care about what happens to people like you, Zahara. I’m willing to give you a second chance if you help me.” I release Zahara, put away my sword and pistol, and hold out my hand. “Help me find out who influenced you to do this, and I promise that you will get what you deserve.”

Zahara looks at my hand and then at my eyes.

“What I deserve is to die or be put in prison for what I did.”

“If you help me, I’ll make sure that won’t happen. Your efforts in helping me and what has been done to your neighborhood today will act as payment for your crimes.”

“Even if I can help you, I don’t know much. The woman who convinced me to act on my thoughts hid her appearance, and her voice was…distorted.”

“Anything you can do will help me. So, do we have a deal?”

Zahara looks away for a second at her neighbors, who are sitting in their homes, scared for their lives, and of her, and then shakes my hand.

“Sure, but if you go back on your deal, then I’ll go back to what I was doing. I don’t know what you were doing with your powers, but it looks like they worked.”

“I only used them to bring you to your senses. Afterward, I simply used words and what I knew to convince you.”

“Heh. I guess we’re not so different after all, then.”

“No, we aren’t,” I say with relief and a smile.

The fires surrounding the neighborhood instantly die down. Raziel finds Zahara and me, relieved that I didn’t have to resort to killing or knocking her out to get her to cooperate. Paramedics take away the injured and the dead, police arrest the Neglected who resisted, and the Dominion takes the converted Neglected to our office for questioning and to make arrangements to give them what they deserve, including Zahara. Honestly, I expected things to turn out much worse. Thank God it didn’t.