"Mom. Calm down, everything will be fine with Max. He's not a little kid anymore, and lately, he's become incredibly strong," Dima tried to calm his worried mother, but she couldn't pull herself together, anxious for her son who was in prison.
"Yes, Mila. Everything will be sorted out soon, and he'll get in touch with us, but for now, you should pull yourself together," the father stretched out his hand and pointed at a rabbit peacefully nibbling on grass in the clearing. True, for a herbivore, its fangs were too large, protruding from its mouth, and its fur bristled more like sharp icicles than pleased the eye, but all in all, it was a rabbit. "Try to shoot it."
The woman raised her crossbow, took aim, and a short, whistling bolt pierced the small body, pinning it to the ground. The animal was still alive and, screeching furiously, tried to get off the short shaft, but a second shot hit it right in the head, and the long-eared creature finally fell silent.
"These are some messed-up rabbits," Mom sighed. "And it's unusual without Maxim; he understands these portals way more than we do."
"Yes, I know," her father agreed. "But we can't just wait for him, we have to become stronger so that if needed, we can pull him out by force," he hugged his wife, kissed her, and, raising his Saiga, took aim at the next red-eyed monster, grazing on the green grass and pretending to be an innocent herbivore.
"Hey!" Dima shouted. "Let me kill at least one!" and rushed forward with an axe at the ready.
The rabbit's ears, pressed against its head, perked up, it turned to the approaching threat, and, bristling its fur, hissed.
A loud, responsive bark from the forgotten participant of the hunt made everyone pay attention for a second, and the dog, not missing its chance, overtook the slow human and, reaching the ridiculous, fluffy toy, sank its fangs into its withers. Then it shook its head and, hearing a crunch of bones, froze in bewilderment and stared at it, tilting its head slightly to the side. It looked guiltily at its owners, thinking it would be scolded, but seeing no negative reaction, it again grabbed it and continued to thrash it like a wet rag.
"Timosha! That was my prey!"
The parents laughed, watching the son's squabble with the dog, and the father called the dog back, giving it a command to stay close. "Alright, Dima, the next one is definitely yours."
The older son, who had warlike raised his axe above his head, glared fiercely at the ginger predator, pretending to be a cute and fluffy plush animal, and, huffing, headed to the next rabbit, which was fearfully peeking at the approaching death.
Realizing that a fight was inevitable, the long-eared creature hissed, just like the previous animals, and jumped right at the approaching man, who shifted slightly to the left and, with a counter-movement, like a professional baseball player, split it into two uneven halves that flew further, drenching the grass in blood, and then dramatically threw the axe over his shoulder, showing off to his relatives.
"Ha! That was really easy!"
"Well, if it was easy, then we continue," the head of the family summed up. "Now it's my turn."
A shot from the firearm tore the fanged herbivore into small shreds, not even leaving a piece of hide.
********
I lay on a wooden pallet and, staring at the ceiling, reflected on various things. About how my parents were doing, and whether they would do something stupid, like storming the prison in an attempt to rescue me. Just, judging by my father's recent actions, when he was ready to shoot the morons who showed up, they were capable of flying to Moscow and breaking in here by force.
The lack of communication made me slightly nervous, and without the communicator, I couldn't contact them in any way. I should have, of course, kept a spare communication device in my inventory, even an old touch-screen phone from ten years ago, but it was too late to think about it now.
Things also went poorly with my skills; as soon as Symb was taken from me, I immediately became practically helpless. Well, of course, I'm being disingenuous; my physical Attributes didn't go anywhere, but still. I had somehow gotten used to the fact that I could command the forces of nature, and I felt superior to others, special, and even chosen, and then I got this slap in the face.
For the future, of course, it would be a good idea to get a firearm; in some cases, I think it's simply irreplaceable. Even the zombie guard in the prison could have been easily dealt with by a single shot to the back of the head, without slicing it into noodles and putting myself in danger.
No, it wasn't particularly dangerous, and I also tested my updated physical Attributes, but no one has canceled the possibility of accidents. An ill-timed stone underfoot, a muscle cramp, and it's over. That railroad tie it was wielding would have been enough for one blow to take my life. I shuddered, imagining the scene in my thoughts, and tried to get it out of my head. And for the umpteenth time, I promised myself to take care of my defense.
While I lay there, I began, just in case, to think through options for saving my mortal carcass. Without the internet, of course, it wasn't very convenient, but I still had my brain. The most obvious and logical solution was to use Pangeokinesis to block mechanical impacts.
Only after losing the bracelet did I realize what incredible functions it provided. Molecular analysis of an area with a radius of five meters! It was an incredible level of technology. But if I were to use it for protection, I could logically develop the shot skill, only forming not buckshot, but stone plates with maximum hardness, and directly before the impact.
For the communicator's computing power, it was no problem to monitor the environment, identify fast-moving objects that could pose a threat to my health, and at the same time calculate their mass, speed, and penetrating ability and substitute specially formed blocks of hard rock into their trajectory.
I even imagined being shot at with an automatic rifle, and the bullets simply ricocheting off the appearing stones. Then I remembered about more powerful weapons, such as machine guns installed on armored vehicles, and I felt slightly sick. If they can pierce through brick buildings and leave clearings in a forest, felling century-old pine trees, then defending against them with stone plates is a bad idea. So I left the idea as a promising one but made a mental note to think it through better. It was a shame, of course, that I didn't get the skill of controlling electromagnetic fields, using which I could have come up with an analogue of a force field.
My reflections, which I had been indulging in for several days, were interrupted by the sound of locks being unlocked on the door.
Morning had come, and the guards had come to take the wooden pallet, on which I could only lie at night. True, today they were a little late; they usually came in very early. Without a reminder, I got up and went to the opposite wall, not getting in their way as they took the simple piece of furniture.
The familiar footsteps of the guards who had entered the cell sounded from behind, but instead of the usual sound of furniture being moved, I felt a person approaching me from behind. I completely did not expect a strong blow to my kidneys and didn't even brace myself for it, feeling the full range of painful sensations.
They twisted my arms behind my back and dragged me along the familiar corridors again. The Regeneration worked a hundred percent, removing the consequences of the painful shock, but I pretended not to notice, feigning that I couldn't even breathe from the pain.
Again, the prisoners in the cells were watching what was happening with interest through the cracks in the doors, and their idiotic shouts were meant to serve as entertainment not only for themselves but also for those around them. Apparently, to finally demoralize me, they dropped me on the stairs, and after I crashed into the wall on the landing, they also added a kick to my ribs. Something crunched, and I hoped that Regeneration could fix cracks in bones too.
The situation was taking a very unhealthy turn, and I began to think about a forceful solution to the problems. It wasn't difficult to knock out the guards, but how to leave the prison and then Moscow was unclear. The only option would be to hide in a secluded place and go into a portal, sit there, and then, after coming out at night, make another attempt, hiding in a new location whenever there was danger. This option was, in principle, feasible, and I saved it for a last resort, deciding to wait a little longer. After all, they were dragging me somewhere, right? It wasn't the Middle Ages, which meant it wasn't an execution, and I could survive the rest.
A familiar door and a familiar captain, still sitting at the desk and feigning a lot of activity. They sat me in a chair and cuffed my hands behind the backrest so that I couldn't even twitch without breaking my forearms.
"I've started to dislike the service at this hotel," I tried to joke.
"Shut the bastard up," the investigator replied, not looking up from his work.
A slap to the face stopped my desire to talk, and I silently continued to examine the office, trying to fix my gaze on any object and distract myself from the crushing feeling of uncertainty. I really wanted to comment on the black phallic figurine, but that would be fraught with either another beating or something even worse. You never know how it is used here.
Another thirty whole minutes passed before he finally finished his scribbling. My hands had gotten quite numb during this time, and the discomfort had reached the point where I was ready to spit on the consequences and try to break the handcuffs.
"So. Well, have you been marinated enough? Are you ready to give a confession?" the captain finally put down his pen and looked at me.
"Confess to what? This is complete nonsense! And where's my lawyer? And my phone call?"
"My God... You, apparently, still don't understand where you are," the policeman was touched. "You are nobody here!" he said pointedly. "And you have no rights. And you will sit here for as long as I want. And if I need to, you'll disappear without a trace. Old dungeons hold many mysteries and secrets, and there will just be one more."
"Listen, captain. I wouldn't confess to something I didn't do, even under torture. Let's have a confrontation; bring that blonde bitch here, and let's all talk together."
The investigator nodded to the guard standing behind me, and I got another slap.
"Call my goddaughter that again, and you'll lose a couple of teeth. Is that clear?"
"Perfectly," I ground out through my teeth.
"So. We have two paths. First: you sign everything and get two, at most three years. But if you refuse," he spread his arms, "then you have no one to blame but yourself."
"No," I raised my head and looked into the eyes of the corrupt wretch. "I won't sign anything."
"Oh..." The policeman sighed dramatically, stood up, took off his outer clothes, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. "Well, you're forcing me."
The guard standing behind me held out his baton to the investigator and with both hands pressed down on my shoulders, not letting me twitch.
"They will look for me at work, and I will not be silent when all this comes out," I warned him.
"At Syntech, right? What a pity, but you are no longer listed there; you were fired a week ago for theft of company property," he took a sheet of paper from the folder on the desk, and I saw a response to the official police request, which contained the corporation's details, stating that the employee had been fired and they had no information about my location.
So, they screwed me over here too. I remember Anya said something about sleeping with the head of the head office. Anger boiled in my soul at my own short-sightedness and stupidity, because of which I was led on by a pretty face and got myself into this trouble.
"And this means that you were simply thrown away like used material, and no one needs you, and no one will stand up for you."
Playing with the baton, he came closer and, swinging it, hit my right thigh. My leg instantly went numb, and he immediately added a blow to my left one, stunning the second one as well. Then, without stopping, he began to beat me with the baton, hitting all parts of my body. Because my hands were cuffed, I couldn't even cover myself, and I thrashed my whole body, trying to fall out of the chair to at least curl into a protective ball and cover my vital organs; Regeneration would deal with the rest.
In general, of course, it was very painful, but the thought that everything ends sooner or later, including beatings, helped me hold on. And the bruises would heal. If my bruised kidneys returned to normal, then some cracks in my ribs were not worth paying attention to at all. But the guard, who continued to press on my shoulders, leaned on me with all his weight, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't do anything. I could have hooked my feet on the chair legs and tried to break them, but that bastard's first blows to my legs temporarily disabled them, and I could only take the blows without being able to even resist.
The investigator went into a rage and had already hit me on the head with the baton several times, getting angry about who knows what. Warm blood ran down my forehead, filled my eyes, and a trickle of red liquid went further, breaking off my chin and beginning to drip onto the floor.
"You son of a bitch," the captain became even more enraged when he saw me dirtying his floor. "I'll have to clean up after you," he lifted my chin with the baton and looked into my blood-filled eyes. "Last chance. Talk."
I gathered my strength and spat the blood that had accumulated in my mouth at him, soaking his entire shirt.
"You bastard!" he completely lost it and began to hit me on the head with the baton, not caring where he was hitting.
"Boss! You'll kill him! Stop!" the guard standing behind tried to appeal to his reason.
"Go to hell!" the investigator yelled at him. And when he ran out the door, he kicked me in the chest, knocking me to the floor.
I heard a crunch and didn't immediately realize that it was the back of the chair that had broken, and not my bones, which had become stronger after leveling up Constitution.
Realizing that I was just going to be beaten to death now, I tensed my hands in an attempt to break the handcuffs.
The door suddenly flew open and was a surprise not only for me but also for the captain, who was sure that no one would dare to bother him. I froze on the floor in an uncomfortable position, continuing to flood the floor with blood, and stared at the entrance.
Uncle Valera entered, dressed in his uniform, with a lieutenant colonel and two big sergeants accompanying him, and he glanced at the policeman standing with a bloody baton, and at me, lying on the floor and covered in blood.
"Well, captain. You're screwed," my neighbor said and nodded to the people accompanying him.
The sergeants rushed at the investigator, knocked the baton out of his hands, and, twisting his arms behind his back, slammed him against the desk, breaking his nose and covering the documents on the table with his blood.
"Out with him, to the cold cell," the officer accompanying him added and turned to my parents' neighbor. "Comrade Colonel, this is a misunderstanding. I'll figure everything out."
"Of course, you will," Uncle Valera said, leaning down to me and freeing me from the handcuffs. "I'll bring order here quickly. Line up all personnel, except for the duty shift, in two hours. Call them in from their days off too; I'm going to get acquainted with my new subordinates. And quickly call a medic here."
"Yes, sir," the lieutenant colonel saluted.
I looked at what was happening in confusion, not believing my eyes. What was our neighbor doing here, and why was everyone listening to him so much? No, I knew that he was a big boss in the police, but that was in Vladivostok, and now we were in the capital.
"Let's go, Maxim, to my new office, we'll talk. How are you yourself? Can you walk?"
I carefully moved my jaw, feeling it from the inside with my tongue, and said:
"Yeah, I think I'll live. What is even happening here?"
"Let's go, son. I'll tell you everything."
Glancing at the door through which the investigator had been dragged out, I walked to the desk, opened the top drawer, and, taking out my communicator, put it on my arm. I quickly sent a message to my parents that Uncle Valera had arrived, that I was fine, and that I would call them later, and I replied:
"Now I'm fine, I'm ready to go."
The slight limp went away right before my eyes; the actively working Regeneration was hastily fixing the damage, and I finally began to feel my beaten legs, which I had been moving automatically before.
I walked behind our neighbor and watched as employees respectfully parted ways and the people sitting in the cells shut up. What a visible confirmation of visible signs of distinction. Although there's a time and place for everything, it's unlikely that some Papuan general would impress police officers from Russia, just as it would be the other way around.
"Maxim, there's a shower here, and I ordered them to find you some clean clothes."
In the expensively furnished office, there really was a door to an individual bathroom; apparently, big bosses weren't used to being late for work, and he had equipped a full-fledged apartment here, where he could even live if necessary.
After the shower, having changed into police uniform pants and a black T-shirt, I sat in a comfortable chair, holding a cup of coffee and listening to the colonel tell me the news.
"In short, after the president's speech, instructions on new rules of detention came to all prisons. And a categorical ban on bringing in and using communicators, which, as it turns out, can give completely unimaginable possibilities. I understand that you are aware of what a person can get from them," and he pointed at my bracelet. "Don't be shy, your parents told me in general terms that you were testing their capabilities at work and have been in this topic for a long time. So, if a maniac gets superpowers, no one will stop him. Therefore, immediately after the ban, telegrams with new appointments came, replacing the entire leadership of all places of detention in the country and rotating them to other regions. As far as I know, the military also has such practices so that they don't get too connected with the civilian government and strictly perform their functional duties. And the prison authorities get connected not only with useful ties but also with criminal ones, no matter how much you try to get rid of it."
I sat and listened carefully to what he was saying, sipping my coffee and feeling that I was finally relaxing.
"So I also got an appointment," he waved his hand around the space. "Now I am the head of the Butyrka prison. This is a very good promotion, and for you, it came just in time. And at the same time, all the employees received personal communicators and instructions on their actions. Everything has started at the state level, and now no one can get away with it," he lifted the sleeve of his uniform jacket and showed a bracelet just like mine. "They even forced old guys to do it, as you can see."
"Uncle Valera... You're not an old man; you're only forty-five. You're still full of strength and potential."
"Haha, come on, Maxim. The body isn't the same, all sorts of ailments bother me, my knees creak. I'm not sure I'll go to this portal. I just moved to Moscow; I still need to settle down. True, the boss's order is pushing me, so I'll have to think of something."
"What if I help?" I asked with the smile of a tempter. "You've basically nursed us on your knees since childhood, you're practically family to us. And here, I was already ready to break out by force, spitting on the consequences. That strange investigator literally wanted to kill me. So we'll do everything in the best way, and you'll be healthier than your younger self."
There was a knock on the door, and the officer who had ordered the captain to be sent to solitary confinement entered.
"Comrade Colonel, may I?"
"Yes, what do you have?"
The lieutenant colonel gave me a questioning look, but my neighbor told him to continue.
"We interrogated the investigator. He told us a lot of interesting things. Starting with the fact that he forged a request for a nationwide search and called his classmate serving in Vladivostok, convincing him that the case was under the control of the head of the investigative committee and that if he helped with the emergency transfer of the suspect to Moscow, he would not be forgotten and would be promoted with a transfer to the capital. Subsequently, the comrade," he pointed in my direction, "was not properly registered and was not officially listed in the prison, being held against his will. In fact, they committed a kidnapping using official capabilities and falsification of documents."
"And why would this investigator do all this? Didn't he understand that sooner or later all this would come out? Cameras, recordings, and dozens of other clues. Another day, two at most, and there would have been a scandal anyway."
"And here, Comrade Colonel, is where it gets interesting. Any mention of the victim in the context of citizen Andreev," and he again pointed in my direction, "causes him to have a fit. He starts lunging at officers and loses control of his behavior. I would say that it looks like the effect of psychotropic drugs, but we need to do a blood test to confirm or rule out this fact."
"Alright, do it. But prepare the documents for a criminal case against him. The medic has already been in and documented the injuries on the victim, so add that to the report."
During the conversation, I analyzed what was happening and came to the conclusion that there were a lot of blank spots in this story. The strange and completely illogical behavior of the police officer was more like a mental influence, if such a thing existed. Although the capabilities of communicators have not yet been properly studied by anyone, maybe someone has such skills. Oh... Again, there are some difficulties that need to be taken into account.
"And one more thing," the new prison head added. "Escort our guest to the exit and return his belongings. Maxim," he said to me. "I'll be busy now, but we can talk about your offer in the evening. And now I need to change things here a bit and stir up this muddy swamp."
They returned the documents that had been taken from me back in Vladivostok, and I automatically put them into my inventory, not using the communicator, masking the whole action as if I was putting them in my pocket. If I think about it, the temporary absence of the bracelet and the external stimulus advanced me quite a bit in mastering my abilities. By the way, I wonder if everyone will be able to use their skills without a communicator later, or am I the only one who is so unique? But again, only time will tell.
I showed my pass to the police officer and finally went outside through the checkpoint. I breathed in the air of freedom and walked through the arch to the road on the crunchy snow. The first thing that caught my eye was a sign for a 24-hour cafe offering shawarma, and I looked around for a crosswalk to taste the divine flavor of normal food, not the burnt boar meat that I had been eating on the last day.
I finally saw a traffic light and had just taken a step toward it when I froze and stared at a huge billboard, on which Anna was featured with a bracelet on her arm and a huge inscription at the top: "Symb 2.0 – Get supernatural abilities and a perfectly healthy body."
"Maxim, hello," a familiar female voice sounded from behind, whose owner was on the poster in front of me. A gentle and velvety voice that had recently made me melt, and now only caused disgust and hatred.