Renegade

Chapter Five: Dark Insanity

Byron stopped in his tracks, his mouth wide open and his eyes staring forward in shock. Byron? He heard a stray thought fly through his mind. The thought belonged to a familiar voice. A voice he once thought he would never hear again.
"What's wrong?" he could barely hear Mark saying to him as he stood in the middle of the hallway, frozen in shock.
"I...I...," he stuttered. He looked up, finally being able to make eye contact with Mark. "I found her," he managed to whisper. Mark's eyes widened as well. "But she's gone," Byron said, finally feeling able to breathe again. He looked down at the ground, his mind still trying to wrap around what he had just felt. "She died again," Byron said. But that didn't matter; he had seen all that he needed to.
"How do you know it was her?" Mark asked.
"I just know," Byron said, "I saw everything she saw. I felt everything she felt."
"And?" Mark asked, "What did you see?"
"She's being held captive," Byron said, trying to remember all of the details he had been able to see. "She was fighting someone."
"Did you recognize them?"
"Maybe," Byron said. He could remember what he had seen very vaguely. "It looked like that woman we fought," he said, "The one that caused us to get captured by Sector Zero."
"Could Veronica be at the Secret Service Headquarters, then?"
"No, this was something different altogether," Byron said, "They were fighting with...swords?"
"Swords?"
"Yes, and they were in a dark room," Byron said, "Almost like a palace. But I don't remember anything else!" Byron growled in frustration.
"Don't worry," Mark said, putting his hand on Byron's shoulder. Byron looked up at him. "We'll look for her, and we'll find her," Mark said, "But for now we need to look for everyone else. I'm sure once we find everyone we'll be able to put our heads together and figure this thing out." Byron nodded, and they continued down the hall.

Xandar took a sip of his hot chocolate. He traced the passage of the warm liquid as it gathered in his mouth, sliding down his scarred esophagus. He felt warmth as it entered his stomach. He only felt it for a moment, though; it was hard for him to be warm. He had surrendered to the coolness long ago, now he was eternally cold, heated only on a few rare occasions such as this.
He smiled a little. He had been standing, emotionless, for several minutes, in his private chambers, thinking of nothing in particular. Just drinking his drink. It was an uncommon occurrence that he sat around, doing nothing. He was often lively and energetic, as those who had ever laid eyes on him knew as much as they knew the sun rose each morning.
At least, those who were alive.
It was like a curse, he thought, like so many that had been cast upon him in his lifetime. Those who he met face to face, even for a minute or two, usually ended up hurt or dead.
Maybe that was why he had created for himself such an unpleasant physique and personality. Xandar, contrary to popular belief, did not like to see people hurt. Not because he cared for them, but because of what it did to him. Every time he saw someone die, he knew it was his fault. He had brought them this far, to the Nation, after all. He hated the feeling of guilt that it put on him. So he made an image of himself that was repulsive. Nobody would ever be close to him, and he was glad.
Because, if ever were someone close to him, he might actually care about them. He smirked at his reflection in the mirror. "And we couldn't have that now, could we?" he said, a grin spreading over his face.

Kaytlen didn't know where she was. She didn't know what had happened. All she knew was that she could only see darkness around her. Had she died? The air around her was thick, she could hear someone breathing slowly, deeply, mechanically. That sound alone frightened Kaytlen to her core. There was something in here with her. "Hello?" she managed a weak cry. She had experienced something like this before; when she had been attacked and imprisoned by Williard Poore's men in Sector Eight months ago. Those two days had been hell for her, and she wasn't eager to experience them again.
Kaylen then realized that she couldn't move. Her arms and legs were strapped to some sort of metal table. As her breath quickened, her heart speeding up rapidly, she could almost visualize the instruments hovering over her. Knives and syringes and lights, all ready to cut her open and experiment on her.
It was only then that Kaytlen screamed, the suspense and the darkness threatening to drive her sanity away.