ICARUS | Ongoing Draft

Chapter 1: The Return of the Repressed

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕰𝖝𝖊𝖈𝖚𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖗

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The black cloth was lifted from my head, and I could see. I furiously blinked to see past tears of frustration. Sweat had crept into my eyes, my eyebrows unable to dam my perspiration. My eyes were burning.

As was my chest.

Two figures came into focus. A woman with a boxer body build and a man. Both were standing in the shadow of a dimly lit room. The man approached me first. The light caught his features, revealing a ruthlessly handsome olive-skinned man with bright grey eyes and dirty blonde hair. The woman at his side was a muscular column of sheer physical power. The sight of the duo made me feel off-kilter. And annoyed. They'd kidnapped me using a small girl child as bait.

And I was the executioner of a nation.

"You don't look in need of help," I spat. Anger contorted my face into a grimace when I noticed the metal vises chaining me to the chair. The audacity!

"No, we are not," the man replied in a smooth voice. "I think it's you who needs our help, in fact."

I stilled. The anger swelling in my chest quieted into a cold rage. "So this is your hobby? You kidnap people you assume are in need of help? Even an executioner?"

"Especially executioners. Since you people are the most lonely of all."

I bit back a growl and guffawed. "Be for real. What do you want?"

"She's not scared. Pretty interesting, I think." The woman said, in a deep voice that sounded almost familiar.

"Maybe she's used to this. Are you used to such interventions, miss?"

I bit the inside of my lip and stared at him. When I didn't answer, he turned to her with a small smile. "Of course she's used to this. She's the executioner. What did we expect?"

"I asked you what you want," I seethed.

"We wish to know a few things." The man settled into a rolling chair facing me and shot a glance at the woman. She came closer to me, as if on cue.

"We want to know why they keep multiples of you. We saw at least three of yous in black uniform and Triumvirate insignia," She spoke as she stepped very close to me, and it was then that I noticed the beautiful tight coils of her short afro hair and her warmth of her mahogany skin. She was wearing a bustier over a loose shirt and frayed denims. There was something increasingly familiar about her. I wondered if I had forgotten her like I had forgotten—

"We want to know why, why exactly, you killed all of us. We also want to know if you're just a robotic little bitch."

The fury I saw in her onyx eyes smothered the rage in my chest. I felt uncomfortable. I felt as though my brain was separating itself from my body and attempting to shut down. My heart started beating strangely in my chest. I broke contact with her gaze, needing to force myself to breathe. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"Did you enjoy it? Slaughtering my sister? Strangling this one's father?" She pointed to the man, who was watching me with an unexpressive face.