Low-key | ✓

8 | The Four Boys Are..

SERVER BREACHED! Was lettered in red, bold, Arial letters.

My laptop started glitching, and flashing in different shades of red.

Shit. Someone's trying to hack into my laptop.

My eyes scrunched together.

What the hell is happening?

I entered the code I made for whenever this type of thing happened.

HMDTNG2

And then the glitching stopped.

However, there was a lock, a pin that I needed to enter just so I could reopen my laptop.

"What the-" I cut myself off when another pop up came.

On it was a photo of the company building. The same minimalistic styled grey building,

At the corner of the photo held a riddle.

In between designs, are where your answers lie.

I scrunched my eyebrows together.

"In between designs, are where your ans-"

"Asti? Asti?"

I was cut off by a series of knocking coming from my apartment's front door.

I scrunched my eyebrows up in confusion.

Now who might that be at this late hour?

I stood up from my previous squatting position on my bed and assessed my attire.

Frankly, I look like a not-so well kept asylum patient.

I took a look in the mirror and was absolutely disgusted of what I saw.

Dark bags were underneath my eyes from looking for jobs so much. Don't look at me like that, I don't need the goddamn money. I have enough fortune for it to even be called a fortune.

I just want something to get me up and going, y'know? Much like how ATC used to.

My lips were chapped, and my skin was pale as a plain white sheet.

Honest to goodness, I looked like death.

I stalked towards the gray door and twisted the knob, not even bothering to look through the peephole.

It was probably just the neighbor again.

My neighbor, Mrs. Barbara was a very kind and very annoying person. Her kindness annoys me to the max. She keeps telling me stories about her grandson that I don't even know the name of whenever we see each other in the hallway, and it was hella annoying.

Sheesh, old woman, I don't give a shit about the putrid armpit smell of your grandson's shirt!

"Yes Ma'am?" I looked up, and who I saw suddenly made my heart skip a beat.

Wait two.

Wait three.

Holy shit-

"Corbyn." I stated blankly, but shocked he was here.

He was most certainly not Mrs. Barbara.

No, Mrs. Barbara had aprons and curlers. This one had sweatpants and white shirts.

To say he looked like shit was an understatement.

He, much like myself, looked like death. He smelt like it too.

Dark bags were underneath his eyes, indicating that he had not gotten much sleep for the past few days.

His lips had multiple cracks, they were chapped.

His honey brown eyes looked so dull, drained of color. He looked sad.

Stressed, even.

He looked at me, seemingly waiting for something.

Oh, right.

I opened the door all the way, exposing the surprisingly tidy apartment I was cooping myself in.

The platinum haired boy stepped inside my apartment, amd I led him into the small living room

I motioned for him to take a seat on the plush white sofa that was positioned right in front of the flat screen television hanging on the wall.

The both of us took a seat. I on the left side, he on the right.

I looked at the floor, averting my eyes away from him.

For the past weeks that I have been alone and away from the life that I had gotten accustomed to, I had injected myself with the same serum that they used to give me when I was still a wee child.

To be who I was.

Before the boys came.

Mr. Milan's father, Antonio Milan, was a great fighter, but a terrible trainor. He did not know how to train newbies.

I was six, turned seven when he first got me. He made me an agent at that age, signing contracts, giving them my entire life. I had to undergo training.

Training they wanted to give but they could not provide.

People in ATC are known to be impatient. They always want the easy way out. So when the scientists that worked there managed to develop various serums, they had infused my blood and changed my entire chemical composition. I was scientifically proven to be physically strong, mentally able, and emotionally bland.

The AsTi X was the name of the serum.

Arsenic Titanium.

That's what they called me.

And that's what i injected into my blood once more. To be who I was before.

The serum was slowly fading. The last time I was infused with the chemicals was three days before I started my first mission with the boys. After that, I didnt have a single dosage, which was why I lost myself.

During that mission, I was new to emotions. Trust me, I was way worse than a teenager going through puberty with my mood swings.

My blood was filled with the serum I had before. For the past weeks, I've been taking three doses a day. One dose more than what they had given me before.
And it felt good to be back.

My eyes averted to Corbyn for a split second, and my heart almost beat out of my chest when I saw that he was looking at me.

His hazel brown eyes met my pale grey ones.

I thought the serum was working?

Why the hell is my heart still beating out of my chest whenever I see him looking at me?

I broke contact, staring five hundred miles ahead.

Why was he here?

Why the hell did he look like shit?

I swear to god if those two goddamn agents hurt them-

"Please come back." He broke the silence that enveloped us.

Me?....come back?

I shook the thought away.

"Why? When there is no need?" I spoke, ice lacing my words.

I felt him touch my right shoulder, and I involuntarily shivered at the touch.

Was it just me or did it get hot in here?

Damn the AC.

I looked at his hand on my shoulder, then at him.

His eyes showed sadness, and held a glint of fear.

"There is." He said, his voice faltering.

I raised my eyebrows, asking him to continue his thought.

When his mouth spoke those words, my chemically infused blood turned cold.

"The four boys are gone."