The Achlys

Part I- Kidnapped

Ordinary people need not wonder why they have awakened in a dingy basement while being held hostage; but as it appears to be, I'm not an ordinary person now, am I?

My head hurts, I feel as if I'll combust, no, I can't do that, can't let that happen.

I peel open my lids, for a couple of seconds everything around me appears to be in disarray, nefarious little black dots frolick before me and so, I pause, letting them complete their dance. My vision sharpens and I use the opportunity to attempt to figure out where in the world I am.

My hands are cuffed, cold chains grasp me, locking me to… a chair. The plaster on the floor is grey with age, the walls are adorned with wallpaper, peeling wallpaper, black, peeling wallpaper. There are no windows, the room is… small, it closes in on me, I'll suffocate, I’ll-

No, Breathe, breathe, it's fine.

A man in a black suit steps foot into the chamber, saunters up to me, the perfect image of confidence, as I ought to be. I jut my chin forward and look him in the eye defiantly.

“What do you want? Where am I ? Why am I here?”

“Woah, woah, woah, easy there," He flashes me a wicked smile. "Would you look at that, the monster is up,” are the words he rumbles in a tone which contains a hint of mocking.

“One question at a time. Firstly, who I am doesn't concern you and for the other two-"

"It is my business, seeing that you've kidnapped me and need my help." I say seethingly.

"You'll figure it out, you're smart." He runs a veiny hand over his jaw. "I require...assistance,"

“I don't make deals tied up,” I say, maintaining a demeanor of calm.

“Your wants are of no matter to me,”

“They are if you want my help,”

“Then I'll just kill you. I'll find someone else. Do you want to die?”

"Oh?" I quirk a brow at him. "Then why go through all that trouble to get me here. I recall putting up one hell of a fight. Five of your guys dead, the remaining three injured; and no, I do not have any interest in death, however much it may seem so."

"Appears that you have a point, but mind you...you can't overpower me, you're drugged, have no weapons and in terms of strength, consciousness and weapons I have the upper hand."

He comes nearer and his deft hands nimbly free us of those loathsome chains.

“So, what do you want?” I demand.

“Ever heard of Dr. Eris?”

"Who hasn't?" She was great, she climbed the ranks in the government's neuroscience department. She was a prodigy, gifted, a sensation, then she was disgraced, nobody has the slightest clue why. She had sufficient money to survive and that too quite extravagantly.

“Ah, so she,” He crosses his hands across his chest. "She has created a sort of method to trick neurons into obeying an outward source."

"But that's mind control," I gasp.

“It is, and I fear that the world is about to become something straight out of some absurd sci-fi."

"How do you know of this? She cannot have just released this into the world," I look at him questioningly, an expression of perplexion stressed on my features.

“That hasn't anything to do with you, all you have to do is help me."

"Oh, then I'll just decline the oh so kind offer of yours,"

"What makes you think I'll give in?"

"You just untied me, love."

"Only because it was necessary," He clenches his jaw.

"And this isn't?" I challenge.

"It is not," he replies firmly.

"Fine, then atleast tell me this: where do I come in all of this?"

“Nice to see a woman with brains, you'll help me take her down. We have to get to her and then kill her. I'll take her experiments with me and then destroy everything."

“Obviously I have brains, didn't you know that before you kidnapped me? And why not someone else?"

“Of course I knew that. I don't just pull anyone in and tell them things,"

"Definitely not creepy that you stalked me. But why me?"

"I got someone else do it for me. Anyway, you have a reputation, you do odd break-ins and murder people for money,"

“How much are we talking?” A hint of challenge laces my voice.

“Ten thousand pounds,”

“Considering the job is killing Dr. Eris and getting her will be horribly difficult that's not enough,"

“I believe myself to be overpaying you."

“Fifty thousand,” I offer.

“You're pushing it, fifteen thousand,”

“Thirty thousand,” I say with finality.

“Twenty thousand?”

“Fine, have your way, twenty thousand pounds it is.” I say accepting the offer. "I would've done it for ten thousand, but, let's say, I like to get the best out of everything." I smirk.