In His World.

The Arrival

The last human. The last being of pure flesh and bone, when all others have turned at least partly to machine.

It all makes sense, now.

The big Something that Teacher and Moira were hiding from me - that the whole Compound was built to conceal from me; not the fact that they were part machine, but that fact that I am not.

The reason why the Compound was attacked, and Moira protected me with her life. Special, different, valuable - worth dying for - simply because of the crimson liquid that spills from my skin.

My skin - fragile, strange, human skin that needed Ezekiel's messy inking to take the pattern on, when it looked so smooth and precise on lovely synthetic skin.

The reason why Atticus - why all of them, wanted to protect me, and shelter me from the lonely truth of being the last one left.

'Movement Robotica' - an obsession with advancement, with the bettering of technology. Robotica. Robots, all of them. Pulling themselves apart piece by piece and making themselves better, piece by mechanical piece, until there's nobody left without metal where flesh once was - except a girl hidden away in a Compound for eighteen years.

The last one left. The last little human, traded and bartered for in a rundown school.

"How does it feel?" the cruel leader of the Hounds coos, "To be the only, lonely little human left?"

It is loneliness; deeper and harsher than I had ever felt at the Compound, when I has no one but Moira to truly care about me. It is an empty, gaping chasm in the centre of my being, ready to tear me apart.

I am alone.

Seven scoffs, catching everyone by surprise. I look up at him as the Hounds do, wondering if his bored expression is a sign of absolute insanity.

"This little meeting as cute and all, but if that's all you wanted, do you mind if we show ourselves out?" he asks casually.

My heart rate picks up, and I use my uninjured hand to wipe the tears from my eyes. 'That.' He called me 'that' - like I really am nothing more than a prize he could trade in for his friend. What is he doing???

The Hounds stare at him a long moment, then the leader says, "Yes. She's all we want. Leave."

Seven shrugs and turns around, giving Two a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Come on, boys. Let's get you home, Two."

For a moment, the Hounds, and I with them, just stare after the operatives as they slowly make their way down the steps. I can feel the tension brewing - the silent anticipation building in the air.

Then Two freezes. The others stop when they notice, and Seven leans slowly to Three, then to Six. They hear his silent voice like they did in the hall outside my room, and they stay still. Seven turns to face the Hounds.

"Let. Him. Go."

The Hound with the control has stepped forward, as has the second. I stay where I am, the leader looming behind me, still holding the knife that is dark with my blood. If I move, he might just use it again.

"You are very powerful, Seven," says the leader, "And yet you exerted none of that power to gain both your friend and the human, as we expected. I was very saddened to part with charming Cyrus, and yet you made the trade with such ease. It makes me wonder, dear Seven, if you think you have somehow fooled me."

Seven's face reveals nothing, but he brushes past the frozen Two, and paces slowly back towards us. Six and Three remain at the bottom of the stairs. Three is muttering something, surely talking to the others.