Beneath the Surface | ONC 2023

III | IVY

THE NEWSROOM | THE SURFACE

3 SECONDS AFTER MY WARNING

SILENCE. AND THEN CHAOS.

I black out as soon as the confession leaves my lips. A warning I pray wasn't cut short.

Pure adrenaline courses through my body as angry hands reach for the shell of me. I feel like I'm watching myself in third person as my entire life implodes. My gaze fixes on Alexander's arctic stare behind the cameras, an eerie shadow slicing his features in half.

I force a mocking grin, a surge of pride adding a degree of authenticity to my expression. Alexander signals to his goons with a single wave of his hand and they propel me forward, the force making me nauseous. I'm ushered to the foyer of the building, a steel mobile prison awaiting my arrival just outside.

He saunters my way, a look of disappointment painted on his face. "You were my prodigy," he whispers. "A brilliant mind wasted by your sympathy." The word drips off his tongue as if toxic to his health just by speaking it.

A character trait he would do well to try on every once in a while.

Being this close in proximity to Alexander gives me Deja Vu. I've forced myself to forget my affiliation with him. He's put on this persona for the past few years, striking fear when he can into everyone on the Surface just to push his own agenda. Unfortunately, he's managed to rise in position and is the one person who holds hundreds of lives in his hands.

And the rest of us? Just accessories to his perfect crime.

His eyes analyze me thoroughly, lips pulled into a thin line. I search for any sliver of humanity in the golden pools of his irises, but to no avail. The boy I once knew is lost. It takes me a moment to find my words.

"Helping you experiment on people wasn't exactly what I had in mind when I started studying science." We were so close then, two kids in love with discovering how the world works. But when tragedy strikes, there are two effects it can have on a teenager.

Mourn and move on... Or spend the rest of your life trying to get even. Alexander made his choice and hasn't looked back since. And I couldn't do anything to save him. A chilling smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth and I get the feeling that I'm right where he wants me.

"And you think lying to those poor souls every broadcast kept your little hands clean? I'm excited to report that your research has been oh-so-instrumental in the progression of Project Bunker. The Chemical was finally synthesized last night, so we're right on schedule."

My head spins at this news and I find it hard to remain steady on my feet, even with my arms in the grasp of his guards. "How did you get my research?"

He chuckles at my question, giving me the confirmation I feared. "Our little rendezvous wasn't what you thought it was." With that, he snaps his fingers and I'm being pushed forward again, headed straight toward the van that holds my fate.

Alexander opens the back doors himself, eyes burning a hole in my heart as I'm forced to take a seat. "I never should've trusted you," I scoff. He is no longer Alexander True to me, but another person entirely. One so blinded by their sorrow that he can't see the harm he's causing. For a moment, I swear his expression softens. But it's all a facade.

"I'll admit, you're right about that. But there is one thing you're sadly mistaken about. That little announcement you made did nothing to stop my plans. Enjoy your ride," he chirps, observing his nails with his eyes as cold as ever.

And just like that, I'm left to wrestle with my thoughts.

Although I've been the reporter of the so-called war, I've never actually been that in the know. I've been fed every word of every report I've ever given. Whether I believed what I was speaking didn't matter. I had a job to do. But I couldn't stand the lies anymore. I couldn't stand by while Alexander attempted to find closure for his grief in the worst way, and at the expense of hundreds of innocent lives.