A Star is Born

Cruelty and the Beast

The cell lay at the end of a long, dimly lit and otherwise empty grey corridor. The walls had once been a pristine white, glistening and new, gleaming with the sterility and promise of a new hospital but all the while hiding the secret and terrifying purpose of the high security unit. So secret, in fact, that few were aware of its existence and those who did were equally sinister and terrifying.

An entire wing had long since been allocated to patients with what was officially referred to as severe mental health problems. In reality, the wing had been occupied by those who, in the early days of BLI's global takeover, had not only refused to take their medication but were actively protesting against it. The official communication was that the inmates were rebels and agitators but were in fact doctors, nurses, ex-government officials and anyone else who sought to upset BLI's plans. Ironically, there were also several conspiracy theorists who, when arrested, found themselves horrified to discover that on this occasion they were actually correct. Many were tortured and used for experimentation but eventually all were killed. All except one.

Since the moment the hospital had opened, time had taken its toll on the unit. Years of neglect and damage had dulled the sheen from the walls, the patterns of the tiled floors fading and colours greying with age and use until the entire corridor stood like a grim monument to depression, fear and hate. The solitary imposing steel door stood locked and silent like the entrance to a stark and once proud mausoleum acting as a solid barrier as much to any visitor as to the prisoner within. The prisoner, known solely as FP220313 was about to receive a visitor - the only person who ever visited.

Chief Exterminator Korse stood at the door to the cell, staring intently, almost examining it while his eyes glinted with dark thoughts as he considered the occupant. He found a slight smirk run fleetingly across his lips before his expression reverted once more to its more usual ice cold, hard yet almost expressionless glare. It was time to enter. Using a palm-print identifier to open the door, Korse waited for a moment after the door had slid open before heading inside.

This was no ordinary cell. Whereas most were single rooms with a simple toilet and bunk, this was essentially a secure apartment. The door opened to a comfortable living room, separated from the cell door by a wall of thick perspex with holes drilled at regular intervals for both air circulation and communication. Leading off from the living room were several other rooms including a bedroom, small kitchen and shower room. Beyond those and through a door leading from the bedroom was what appeared at first to be an outside space but was simply an entirely enclosed garden area with a simulated sky similar to the one that was projected onto the giant dome covering Battery City.

Inside the living room area, seated on the couch an older lady, perhaps in her late fifties or early sixties, with shoulder length, light blonde but greying wavy hair turned her head slowly to stare impassively at the exterminator. Holding her gaze without uttering even a sound, she watched with quiet surprise as after less than thirty seconds she could see that Korse was finding it hard to maintain eye-contact

"What do you want, Grant?" She finally spoke, turning her head away as if to reject his presence or at the very least show her contempt for him.

Not even bothering to correct her, Korse found a sneer forming on his lips as he considered his reason for the visit. Stepping closer to the perspex wall, he wondered how quickly his words would gain her full attention.

"I've come to discuss my nephews with you," he paused, awaiting her response.
"You don't have any nephews," she replied, refusing even to look at him.

Was that a slight catch in her voice? Korse mused.

"So, you've finally accepted their deaths?" He replied with a slight chuckle under his breath.