The dorm room fell into a dead, suffocating silence. The only sound was the low hum of the air vents.
Sterling's eyes were blown wide, sweat instantly beading on his forehead. He yanked his arm back, putting all his weight into trying to rip the blade free.
It didn't move a millimeter. It felt like the blade was cemented into a solid block of titanium.
"This is impossible!" Sterling screamed, his voice cracking with panic. "Your gene sequence was stripped! You're nothing!"
Aislinn tilted her head. She looked at his sweating, terrified face, and a cruel, icy smirk touched her lips.
"Who told you," she whispered, her voice carrying through the quiet room, "that losing that pathetic gene made me weak?"
Aislinn squeezed her two fingers together. She pushed a surge of Genesis particles directly into the metal.
CRACK.
A sharp, brittle sound echoed in the room. The custom kinetic blade-a weapon designed to slice through armored vehicles-fractured right where she held it.
The cracks spider-webbed down the length of the blade with a horrific screech of tearing metal.
SHATTER.
The entire blade exploded in Sterling's hand, blowing apart into hundreds of jagged metal shards.
The violent recoil ripped through Sterling's grip. The skin between his thumb and index finger tore open, blood spraying into the air. The force threw him backward. He stumbled five steps before catching his balance.
He stared at his mangled, bleeding hand, then looked up at Aislinn. The rage in his eyes was gone, replaced entirely by raw, primal terror.
Aislinn stepped forward, her boots crunching over the shattered metal. She walked toward him with slow, deliberate steps.
"Stay... stay back!" Sterling stammered, holding his bleeding hand to his chest. "I'm the heir to the Prescott family!"
Aislinn stopped right in front of him. She didn't summon a weapon. She just lifted her right leg and drove her boot directly into his kneecap.
The bone snapped with a sickening crunch.
Sterling let out an agonizing shriek. His leg buckled, forcing him to drop hard onto one knee right at Aislinn's feet.
Aislinn looked down at him. She reached out and patted his pale, sweating cheek. The gesture was dripping with absolute degradation.
"Go back and tell Gayla," Aislinn said softly, "that this is just the warm-up. If she sends another dog to bite me, I'll grind her bones into dust."
Sterling shook violently, the pain stealing his voice. He could only stare up at her with a mix of hatred and absolute dread.
Suddenly, the personal terminal on Aislinn's wrist flashed a blinding, aggressive red.
A holographic projection shot into the air. It was a mandatory summons from the Academy's High Tribunal.
A cold, mechanical voice filled the room. Aislinn Conley. You are charged with attempted murder and destruction of Academy property. Report to the High Tribunal immediately for sentencing.
Sterling heard the voice. A twisted, desperate joy broke through his pain.
"You're dead, Aislinn!" he spat, his face contorting. "The Dean and the Board are there! You're finished!"
Aislinn didn't even look at him. She swung her leg and kicked him square in the jaw, knocking him out cold. The room went blissfully quiet again.
She tapped the terminal, hitting the ACCEPT button.
Aislinn walked over to her broken closet and pulled out a long, black trench coat. She slipped it on, the heavy fabric hiding the blue viper coiled around her wrist.
She looked in the mirror, adjusting her collar. Her eyes were pitch black.
If they want to play a game of law and judgment, she thought, I'll give them a show they'll never forget.
Aislinn stepped over Sterling's unconscious body and walked out the door, heading straight for the Tribunal.
