The lights didn't return with the simple flick of a switch, but with a loud, heavy mechanical sequence. It started with a violent hiss rushing through the copper pipes extending across the ceiling, followed by a loud electrical crackle. The steam lamps glowed slowly, shifting from dim orange to a painful, blinding white, as if the factory were suddenly opening its hellish eyes.
And the moment the light was complete, the injured worker's scream swept through the factory. It wasn't just a moan, but a hysterical wail echoing off the metal walls, the scream of a man seeing parts of his own body lying on the floor before him. He clutched his severed hand, blood splattering onto his colleagues' white uniforms, freezing the blood in their veins.
The rest of the workers instinctively backed away, opening a wide path for Elyra. They realized in that moment that they stood no chance against her; even the heavy metal bars they carried seemed like matchsticks against that sword which had shown no mercy to their colleague's fingers.
Silas looked at Elyra with shock mixed with fear. He had never known her to be this brutal, even in her worst states of memory loss before. But he realized the bitter truth: she didn't know him now, nor did she know herself. She was just a lone woman, trapped in a hostile place, and she would do anything, no matter how bloody, to survive.
"The lights are back... so I won't need this piece of scrap."
Elyra said coldly, tossing Silas's glowing cane onto the ground near his feet, as if cutting the last thread connecting her to him. She swept her sharp gaze over everyone; the terrified workers, the shocked Silas, and the frightened young worker.
"None of you follow me... or you will learn exactly what I will do to you."
She turned and walked away with quick steps.
Silas bent down, picked up his cane, and watched her back receding. He couldn't follow her, not because her words shook him, but because the workers, having ensured the "monster" was gone, regained their courage and turned their eyes toward him. He seemed like an easy target; a limping man, a trembling youth, and a small mechanical creature. Even if he had a cane, it didn't pose a terror like "White Fang."
"Elyra!" Silas shouted in despair, backing away as the workers closed in on him and the young man.
He turned quickly toward Poggles, who was standing on a wooden crate:
"Poggles! Go and stay by her side! Don't let her get away from you; she'll get lost in the fog and won't find the exit! I'll handle myself!"
Poggles shook his metal head, his fast processor realizing that Silas had no real plan for survival and was sacrificing himself. But "Protect Elyra" was the highest priority in his current programming.
Poggles moved gracefully, dodging the hands of workers trying to grab him, and leaped over their heads, moving forward. He bypassed Elyra cautiously and walked a safe distance ahead of her, showing her the way without appearing to follow or impose himself on her.
But Elyra's path was suddenly cut off.
She stopped in front of a new group of workers, led by a man in a black cloak and a raven mask. It was The Supervisor.
The Supervisor ignored Poggles, who shrank to the side, and fixed his eyes behind the mask on Elyra.
"Did I keep you waiting so long that you had to leave?" The Supervisor said in a calm, artificially kind voice.
"I apologize... I am the Supervisor you were waiting to meet. So please, stop now, and let's go to my office, and I will explain everything to you calmly."
Elyra narrowed her eyes and gripped her sword tighter:
"I don't care who you are, and I don't want you to explain anything. I am leaving here now, alone. You can sit with those fools in the back and talk to them."
The Supervisor took a step forward, trying to sound like an honest advisor:
"I don't think you are capable of leaving in your condition... your memory is confused, and the island is a maze. We are trying to help you here."
"No..." Elyra interrupted him sharply.
"I've learned enough about you here."
She nodded her head toward the workers surrounding Silas in the back, whose aggressive intentions were clear.
She raised her sword in the Supervisor's face threateningly.
The Supervisor realized that words would be useless. He raised his hand and signaled to the workers holding Silas and the young man, ordering them to advance toward Elyra. He knew the workers beside him were unarmed and wouldn't last a second against her blade, while those in the back carried bars and heavy wrenches.
The workers hesitated for a moment, fearing their colleague's fate, but the Supervisor's terrifying glare drove them to rush toward her, attacking.
Silas watched the scene in horror. He saw the Supervisor issuing orders coldly, and saw Elyra preparing for a massacre.
There was no room for acting anymore. No room to hide the truth.
Silas screamed at the top of his lungs, uttering the name he had kept secret:
"MOROS!! STOP!!"
The Supervisor froze in place.
It was the first time he had heard his real name spoken within the walls of this factory. No one had ever called him "Moros" while he wore the black suit. Even his deputy, "Ben," who knew much about him, never dared call him anything but "The Supervisor."
Gears turned rapidly in Moros's mind.
'How did he know?'
This wasn't what he had initially thought. He was confident the gas had wiped their minds, that they were just blank pages he would write whatever he wanted on.
He turned slowly toward Silas. He saw the brown-haired young man knock down a worker with his cane and advance steadily, his eyes burning with intelligence and defiance that an amnesiac wouldn't possess.
Then he looked at Elyra, and saw in her eyes loss and savagery... she truly didn't remember anything.
'Does this mean... he is the only one the gas didn't affect?' Moros thought with malice.
'He tricked me.'
He waved his hand to the four workers beside him (his personal guards).
"Two of you... finish him!" He pointed at Silas.
Then he spotted Poggles trying to sneak behind them.
"And catch that mechanical thing!"
Two rushed toward Silas, while the other two headed for Poggles.
Poggles realized they were coming for him, let out an electronic scream, and ran fast, the workers chasing him like a pack of fierce cats chasing a metal mouse, overturning boxes and jumping over pipes.
In the center of the hall, the battle erupted.
Elyra moved like a hurricane. She wasn't defending; she was attacking brutally. She dodged an iron bar strike, slashed the attacker's leg tendon, then spun to hit another in the jaw with the sword hilt, shattering his teeth. She was fighting to kill anything standing in the way of her freedom.
On the other side, Silas fought with a different style. He wasn't a warrior, but he was smart. He used his cane to block punches and struck the unarmed workers' joints with precision, using their reckless momentum to knock them down.
Amidst the chaos, Moros saw his chance.
He pulled a long, serrated dagger from under his cloak. Elyra was busy fending off three workers at once, her back completely exposed to him.
Moros moved with silence and agility unbefitting his station, rushing toward her, raising the dagger to plunge it into her back and end the threat.
"Elyra!! Watch out behind you!!"
Silas screamed a warning, his voice cutting through the noise of battle.
Elyra responded to her instinct and the familiar voice. She turned with amazing speed, raising her sword to block the dagger strike.
CLANG!
Metal scraped against metal, and sparks flew.
Moros took advantage of the close range and kicked her hard in the stomach, causing her to lose balance and fall to the ground, her sword landing far from her.
Moros raised the dagger again to finish her off while she was down.
But before he could bring it down, Silas ambushed him from behind.
Silas wrapped his arms around Moros's neck, using his cane, which he held by both ends, to choke him with force, preventing him from reaching Elyra.
Moros staggered, trying to elbow backward, but Silas held on desperately.
Moros aimed his dagger at Silas's previously injured thigh, trying to stab him to force him to let go.
Silas noticed the movement. Instead of retreating, he kicked Moros's hand with savage force, targeting the wrist, until the dagger flew from his hand and landed far away.
Silas seized the moment, freed one hand quickly, grabbed the raven mask, and pulled it forcefully off the Supervisor's face, then returned to tighten the choke with the cane.
The mask fell to the floor, revealing the face beneath.
Eyes met.
It wasn't a stranger's face. It was the pale face, the sunken eyes, the features that feigned misery.
It was the face Silas had met at the gate... the face that had helped him find the scrapyard.
Silas panted as he tightened the choke, saying in a voice dripping with anger and triumph:
"Moros... I didn't expect you to have another face behind this mask... but if I think about it, it seems logical now... you never looked like the homeless who don't even know themselves!"