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In a world where magic is controlled by “Hereditary Enchantments”, which were essentially just magic passed down through genetics, artificially made enchantments, such as the Axis Mechanics, were bound to have been created.
The Axis mechanics allowed for its user to constantly experience the survival tactic of using 100% of their muscles, and forced them to adapt to it. These Axis people would become strong, and so, they must've been controlled.
The thing with the Axis is that they cannot withstand electricity. While they were dense and fared well against most temperatures, electricity forced their muscles to relax. Resulting in their enchantment malfunctioning and paralyzing them.
Those who were given Axis are typically children, and they're typically sent to camps in order to work for the Empire, train their muscles by doing work, and get the appropriate accommodations to suit their situation until adulthood.
But of course, like all things in the universe, it simply just isn't as nice as that…
*****
Metal plates. It isn't easy to get those around these parts, it takes a lot of money and searching to get the high-quality ones. Thankfully this little thing doesn't need high-quality ones, just some strong enough to not immediately blow off from the heat generated by the laser.
Meriam fiddled with the small machine all evening, but no matter how hard he tried, his mind couldn't get off of what happened today. He twisted the screws, loaded it with fuel, tested it over and over again. If only this thing could bring him back, bring him back and redo things again. Why did it have to go the way it did?
He put the thing down and crawled over to lay his head on the wall, his head barely feeling the sharp impact. Whether it was his strength or how numb he felt, he didn't know.
...
Last afternoon, Meriam decided to take a break in his favorite place, which is just around the corner of the camp. No one really goes there, usually because there are more interesting things to play around in other than stacks of boxes. It was different for him though, those things can be a pretty good place for sitting...
He stopped in his tracks as he heard muffled screams and a lot of shouting from the distance, was someone there? Meriam took a breath and walked closer to see what was going on.
He could never forget the sight that he saw.
Another Axis, looks to be one of the newer ones. They were on the ground, being beaten up by the guards with those metal batons and the boxes. To make things worse, one of the guys in the back was occasionally tapping on the remote thing, electrocuting the poor kid as they shouted at him.
"Why'd you spill the tea on your way back huh?!"
"Do you know how fucking expensive that shit is around here?!"
"Now we have to look for another guy to do our work, you impugnant piece of shit!"
"Sirs I'm sorry please--"
"Shut up you worthless low-life of a child! You and your kind are and have always meant to serve us, and here you are failing at such a simple task! You're lucky we can't just kill you on the spot!"
The kid pleaded and pleaded and pleaded, their pleas occasionally cut off as they got electrocuted and beaten in their paralysis. Meriam didn't know what to do, his eyes shook as his shoulders tightened. He was about to run away from the scene, until,
"Hey look, there's someone watching!"
All the guards consequently stopped and turned at Meriam, who stepped back at their sudden gaze.
"Hey. You. Kid."
One of them stood up and walked over to Meriam as he continued to not say anything.
"What the hell do you think you're doing here huh? You planning to tell someo–"
Before they could finish their sentence, Meriam instinctively swung their arm and blew the man's head in as they tumbled down to the ground. Unconscious.
"Hey, what the fuck?!"
Before they could do anything, Meriam swiftly turned and ran away for dear life. Leaving the heavily injured guard, Axis, and the others before they could do anything about him. He ran. He ran. And he ran.
As he finally determined that he lost them, he turned around. And he realized his mistake.
They were never chasing him. They never did. He watched from afar, as the poor kid was dragged across the ground and the man picked up by his colleague. They were bringing them somewhere instead. Wait. Shit.
They were bringing the kid to the Negotiation Room, weren't they? Wait. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Meriam tried to move, but his legs froze. No. Fuck. He couldn't run. He was too scared to stop them. He was too much of a coward.
From what he knew, the Negotiation Room is where they bring disobeying Axis into "talk" about their problem. It's like a glorified detention room. Only with a lot more torturing when the guards don't want them to talk back.
No. Fuck. Shit. He forced himself. He stepped forward and quickly made a run for it. But before he could get to them, they had already gone into the building and shut the door. He continued to run, and as he reached the door, he held his shoulders and dived straight forward.
But it was futile, the buildings had some kind of mechanism that activates the shock collar when they try to attack it. He was shot back as he was electrocuted in the neck.
The building had no windows, but he could hear the muffled shouting of demand. Quickly followed by muffled pleas. Quickly followed by sounds of beating. Quickly followed by sounds of more shouting.
He stumbled back. He stumbled back again. He could guess what was going on. Those men were using the unconscious guard to accuse the kid of authorial assault when he was really the one to do it.
They used the opportunity to torture the poor newcomer for being incompetent. Those screams and those beatings were clear tellings. They wouldn't even take the injuries on the kid's body as evidence, they'll just beat him up anyway.
Many stories of the guards exploiting the poor Axis children and abusing them when they did something wrong have always circulated around the camp. Meriam was one to hear it, too. He knew of the stories, but he never believed in them.
How ironic, huh? Not only is he watching one unfold now, but he's also played a role in it happening, too. Whether intentionally, or unintentionally.
As his face went red from anger, as his eyes sniffled with tears, he tried to push the door again. But he was shot back by the shock again. He kept pushing and kept getting shot back. But he didn't stop. He can't stop. This is his fault, they can't do this. He can't let this happen. The pain was unbearable, but his heart said no. No. No. No. No. No. No.
As he continued to bang on the door with his weak hands, as his neck was rippled with thousand-volt shocks, as his vision got blurry the more he insisted, as his fists stung with every punch, as his mind numbed with every internalized scream, as his ears ringed with every muffled scream, he felt someone pull him from the back. But before he could say anything, everything went black.
...
He woke back up in his room with bandages all wrapped around his body, and he slept there. He laid on the cushy blanket on the floor as he wallowed in self-pity. He was never a particularly strong child, no. He never was. But he never let that weakness get to him, get to him to make a mistake so grand.
He shouldn't have ever interfered, he should've run away immediately as he saw it. He shouldn't have hit that man in the first place, he should've tried to talk it out with them. Would it have even worked though? The guards around these parts are particularly abusive. He's heard of hundreds of stories about those guys. Nothing ever good.
...
As so many potential outcomes cycled in his mind, his arm stung as he got up from the wall he was laying his head-on. He stared at the little machine on the floor. It was a curved laser machine, designed to be big enough to cut open the collar on his neck, fast enough to break it before it electrocuted him. If he's gonna do something, he's gonna have to be brave as shit.
He sat down on the floor again, his legs stung. They haven't fully recovered from him repeatedly beating on the door from earlier. He grabbed onto the little thing, scrambled for the screwdriver on the floor, and began to open it back up again. It still needed more adjustments.
Just a couple more adjustments.
"I can do something." He told himself.
"I can help, right?" He insisted on himself.
"I can't just run away forever." He said.
"I can do something." He told himself, again.
But no matter how many times he lied to himself, he couldn't ever revert what he had caused.
He heard the stories, he knew what to do, and yet he ran.
Ran like how a pig would run from their farmers with drums.
In a straight line.
And never being able to look around.