THE NAMES HE NEVER SPOKE — PART 2 — The Blackout and the Vanishing Man — A political thriller about power, secrets, and the cost of truth.
Short story series — Part 2 of 4
A mysterious power failure
unleashes chaos inside the detention centre, and Darian Vale disappears under
impossible circumstances — leaving behind a warning meant only for Lira Sen.
Story: S A Spencer
Author of Popular Fictions: The Pink Mutiny, The Black Waters, Dream In Shackles
📣 Caught up in the
blackout? Make sure you’ve read Part 1
first — and get ready for the fallout in Part 3.
The Blackout and the Vanishing Man
The emergency lights flickered on a
few seconds after the blackout, bathing the corridor in a sickly red glow.
Shadows stretched across the walls like grasping fingers. Guards sprinted past
Lira Sen, shouting into radios that crackled with static.
“Backup generators aren’t
responding!”
“Get the warden!”
“Secure all cells!”
Lira’s heart hammered. She turned
back to Darian Vale’s cell.
He was still sitting on the bench,
hands folded neatly, as if the chaos around him were nothing more than a
passing inconvenience.
“You planned this,” she said.
Darian tilted his head. “Planned?
No. Anticipated? Absolutely.”
A guard rushed in. “Dr Sen, we need
to move you to the safe room.”
“I’m not leaving him.”
“Ma’am, this isn’t optional.”
Darian chuckled softly. “Listen to
the man, Doctor. Things are about to get… unpredictable.”
Lira hesitated, then stepped back
as the guard locked the cell door. She followed him down the corridor, her mind
racing.
If Darian was right — if someone
wanted him dead — then the blackout wasn’t an accident.
It was a window.
A perfect one.
The Safe Room
The safe room was a reinforced
chamber deep inside the facility. A handful of staff were already inside, pale
and tense. The warden stood at the centre, barking orders.
“Status on the generators?”
“Still offline, ma’am.”
“What about the external grid?”
“Storm knocked out half the eastern
line. We’re running blind.”
The warden swore under her breath.
“And Vale?”
“Secure in his cell.”
Lira stepped forward. “He said
someone would come for him.”
The room fell silent.
The warden turned slowly.
“Explain.”
“He told me he’d give names — but
only if we guaranteed his safety. He said the people he was about to expose
could reach him anywhere.”
The warden’s jaw tightened. “You
think this blackout is deliberate?”
“I think Darian Vale is terrified
of someone. And I think that someone has the power to make this happen.”
A murmur rippled through the room.
The warden didn’t respond. She
didn’t need to. Her expression said everything.
The Ruler Responds
Across the city, in the gleaming
government complex overlooking the harbour, Chancellor Arion Kestrel was woken
by his chief of staff.
“Sir, there’s been an incident at
the detention centre.”
Kestrel sat up slowly, rubbing his
temples. “What kind of incident?”
“Power failure. Storm damage, they
think. Vale is secure, but—”
“Storm damage,” Kestrel repeated,
his voice flat. “Convenient.”
His chief of staff hesitated. “Sir…
should we issue a statement?”
Kestrel stared out the window at
the lightning splitting the sky.
“No. Not yet. Let’s see how this
plays out.”
He didn’t say the rest aloud.
If Vale dies tonight, it solves
a very large problem.
But if he survived — and talked —
Kestrel’s entire political empire would collapse.
He had risen to power on a promise
to “make the country great again,” to purge corruption, to restore Varosia’s
dignity.
But behind the scenes, he had
relied on Darian Vale’s blackmail network to destroy rivals, silence critics,
and secure the election.
If the truth came out, he wouldn’t
just lose office.
He’d lose everything.
Back at the Centre
The emergency lights flickered
again.
A guard burst into the safe room,
breathless.
“Warden — you need to see this.”
They hurried down the corridor,
Lira close behind. The air felt heavier now, charged with something more than
electricity.
When they reached Darian’s cell,
Lira’s stomach twisted.
The door was open.
The lock had been cut clean through
— not forced, not broken.
Cut.
The guards fanned out, weapons
raised.
“Vale!” the warden shouted. “Show
yourself!”
Silence.
Lira stepped inside the cell.
It was empty.
No sign of struggle. No blood. No
broken furniture.
Just the faint smell of ozone and
the lingering warmth of a man who had been sitting there moments ago.
“He didn’t escape,” Lira whispered.
“Someone took him.”
The warden turned to the nearest
guard. “Check the cameras.”
“They’re down, ma’am.”
“Then get them back up!”
Lira knelt beside the bench.
Something glinted beneath it — a small metal object.
She reached for it.
A USB drive.
Her pulse spiked.
Darian had left something behind.
Or someone had dropped it.
She slipped it into her pocket
before anyone noticed.
The Search
The facility went into full
lockdown. Guards swept every corridor, every storage room, every ventilation
shaft. The storm outside raged harder, wind howling like a living thing.
Lira stayed close to the warden.
“Who has access to the cell locks?”
she asked.
“Only senior staff.”
“And the Intelligence Bureau?”
The warden’s expression darkened.
“They shouldn’t have access.”
“But they could.”
The warden didn’t answer.
They reached the surveillance room.
Technicians were frantically rebooting systems.
“Bring up the corridor outside
Vale’s cell,” the warden ordered.
The screen flickered.
Static.
Then — a single frame.
A silhouette.
Tall. Broad‑shouldered. Wearing a
hooded raincoat.
The figure approached the cell
door.
Another flicker.
The door opened.
Another flicker.
The figure stepped inside.
Then the feed cut out entirely.
Lira felt a chill crawl up her
spine.
“Can you enhance the silhouette?”
she asked.
A technician shook his head. “Not
enough data.”
The warden slammed her fist on the
console. “Damn it!”
Lira stared at the frozen frame.
The figure’s posture was confident.
Unhurried. As if they knew exactly what they were doing.
This wasn’t a rescue.
It was a retrieval.
The Message
Hours later, after the storm
finally eased and the generators sputtered back to life, Lira returned to her
temporary office inside the centre.
She locked the door.
Closed the blinds.
And pulled out the USB drive.
Her hands trembled slightly as she
inserted it into her laptop.
A single file appeared.
“For Lira Sen.”
Her breath caught.
She opened it.
A video loaded — grainy, low‑light
footage of Darian Vale sitting in his cell, recorded before the blackout.
He looked directly into the camera.
“Doctor,” he said softly, “if
you’re watching this, it means I’ve been removed.”
Lira’s throat tightened.
“I told you someone would come for
me. Someone powerful. Someone who cannot afford to let me speak.”
He leaned closer.
“You want the truth? Follow the
money. Follow the promises. Follow the man who built his campaign on
greatness.”
Lira froze.
“He’s not who he says he is. He
never was.”
The screen went black.
A single line of text appeared:
“Trust no one in the palace.”
Lira sat back, heart pounding.
Darian Vale was gone.
But he had left her a trail.
And someone — someone with immense
power — had just declared war on the truth.
🔔
📣 Enjoying the opening chapter? Parts 3–4 continue the mystery, the conspiracy, and the storm that’s about to break over Varosia.
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⚖️ Disclaimer
The Names He Never Spoke is a work of fiction. All characters, organisations, events, and settings are entirely imaginary or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to real-world governments, institutions, or political movements is purely coincidental.
This story contains mature themes including psychological manipulation, political corruption, and trauma. It is intended for adult readers and may not be suitable for all audiences.
The views and actions depicted in the narrative do not reflect those of the author or publisher. This series is designed for entertainment and literary exploration only.
S A Spencer- I will bring more stories for your entertainment. Please follow me on Facebook and Twitter so that you know when a new story comes.
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