Page 6 of Capture of Capricorn

Capricorn held out his hands. “Go ahead. Arrest me.”

“Fuck off. We ain’t got time for this,” snapped the soldier with the patchy mustache.

Capricorn glanced around. “Yeah, I can see you’re real busy guarding against the invisible horde storming this place.”

“It’s like you’re cruising for a bruising,” snarled Patchy.

“Go ahead and hit me, but I warn you, no crying when you hurt your hand. Leo says I’ve got a jaw of stone.” Which Capricorn considered to be the highest compliment.

“You’re starting to piss me off.” Patchy bristled and lifted the barrel of his weapon, leading to his partner putting a hand on his arm.

“You can’t be shooting civilians.”

“Then why give us a gun?” Patchy argued.

“Hello, still here, waiting for you to arrest me,” Capricorn interrupted. “I promise, your boss will be happy you brought me in.”

“We don’t arrest folk. We send them on their way,” explained the calmer soldier.

Beep.Beep. The walkie at Patchy’s waist went off, and he held it up, clicking the button to mutter, “This is Exit One. Copy.”

“Bring that man to Zone 3,” said a crackling male voice.

“Looks like you’re getting your wish,” the nice soldier said. “If you’d give us your hands.”

“Ooh, you’re going to cuff me. Now we’re talking.” Capricorn held out his wrists and fought to not move as they placed the zip ties around them. This felt so wrong. Willingly submitting to capture.

But the embarrassment of it didn’t kill his humor. On the contrary, he had the biggest shit-eating grin as he said, “Take me to your leader.”

CHAPTER 2

“I hate you.”Zora glared at the sphere that landed her in her shitty situation. It sat there on the metal counter, mocking her with its refusal to cooperate.

Usually, metal spoke to her, showed her what it could become, had her imagining the transformation from mundane to fantastical.

Until now.

The orb didn’t speak to her. On the contrary, it did absolutely nothing but piss her off. By now, she knew everything about it. A metallic-seeming sphere, slightly smaller than a football. It weighed eighteen ounces. Measured ten inches long with a diameter of five and a half inches. That was the extent of her knowledge, and not for lack of trying.

She’d run every single goddamned test she could think of.

Submerged it in water. It sank.

Threw it inside a kiln, applying heat enough to melt even the most stubborn metal. It remained the same temperature. Like, literally, the moment she removed it from the hot oven, she could immediately touch it.

Dunked it in some ice and, heck, even blasted it with liquid nitrogen. It remained consistently seventy degrees Fahrenheit.

Forget scratching the surface. She’d tried every tool known to man and some supplied to her that she’d never even heard of. The smooth sheen remained unmarred.

It emitted no frequency that could be detected. She tried bouncing different ranges off it for shits and giggles. Ended up with shit, not a single giggle—but a lot of cursing.

Acid? Might as well have doused it with water.

Nail polish, paint? Nothing stuck to it.

Zora sighed as she leaned back in her chair. Another week, another failure. She could only imagine what the asshole would say once he read the report she’d dispatched detailing all she’d attempted—and failed. A list that kept growing and added to her frustration because it had been made clear to her that she wasn’t leaving her prison until she cracked the mystery.

Yes, prison. Kidnapped and held against her will because she’d greedily held out for more money instead of selling it to the fucker who wanted it. Zora wished she’d never stopped by that garage sale. Wished even more that she’d taken the offer from Seeker419 because then she’d be at home puttering happily in her garage instead of being held prisoner in a super lab where she couldn’t escape. Couldn’t call for help. Couldn’t do fuck all but what Mr. Crius—AKA the asshole who had her kidnapped—ordered, which was to crack the sphere’s—or, as he called it, the relic’s—secret.

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