Yuri knew.
It was all Anya could think about after he left. The secret she'd kept so close to her, not so secret anymore. It was a consolation that he wouldn't tell anyone. That he'd keep it to himself, which surprised her, honestly.
It was a new feeling, this sense of vulnerability that she couldn't do anything about. That someone else was in possession of her secret that she couldn't protect. She felt assured it was safe with him, but nervous. It haunted her when she went to bed, bringing back the nightmares she thought were over, and woke up late, to find only Yor. Loid had gone to work. Some mission or other.
Anya fed Bond before remembering it was much too late for breakfast, but he didn't mind.
She left him to eat as she took her drawing supplies to the living room, scattering a few crayons on the table. She took one in her hand as she got to work. She had a lot of time to make up for.
——————
Yuri pinched his nose, taking a deep breath, as he stood outside the door.
He prepared himself for who waited in the interrogation room.
Opened it.
"Brook." He greeted, coming to stand by the table, not bothering to sit. Wether she told him or not, it would be a short session.
The spy gave a dead stare in return. "What do you want, now?" She said, her disposition tired of his questioning as well.
"Same thing as yesterday. Who's subject 004?" Yuri asked.
A moment of silence. A tip of her head. A sigh like that of disappointment. "You know who 007 is." Stated Brook in discontentment.
"Stay out of my head." Yuri warned, glad he'd made sure there would be no witnesses, precisely for that reason. "Who. Is 004?" He repeated, never having so much trouble for one little piece of data.
"If I say I don't know, will you leave me alone?" She asked dryly.
Yuri's fingertips that relaxed like a claw on the table, moved subtly as his index began tapping. His growing impatience with her, apparent.
"I don't. Know." She said, a pointed tone.
"You don't know, but you know who 007 is?" Yuri challenged.
"I only know 'cause I was sent to fetch her. I have no idea who 004 is."
Yuri didn't know if he believed her. If he did, that made his job much more difficult. But he also knew, he wouldn't be able to get anything out of her if she wasn't willing to give it.
"Believe me or not, it's the truth." She responded to his thoughts, Yuri clicking his tongue in annoyance.
This is why he didn't want to come in here.
If she wasn't lying, his only lead was the director and the scientists. And they had yet to find any of them.
He forcefully tapped his finger a few times again as he considered and whipped back around to leave the room.
He had lot of work to do if Brook couldn't give him the information.
He walked briskly down the hall, nodding to one of his superiors on his way.
A lot of work, indeed.
—————
Twilight walked down the hall with the commanding presence his stolen identity carried. His subordinates, not blinking twice at his perfect disguise. He wished he could have chosen someone lower on the ladder, but they wouldn't have access to what he needed. If anyone found out that Lucas Fern wasn't actually here today, they'd know they'd been infiltrated. While they wouldn't know it was him, their defences would raise all them same. Making the next time, much harder.
He returned a nod to Yuri as he turned a corner and passed a few doors. He found the one labeled 'Records'.
Opened it.
The large room was filled with file cabinets from front to back in aisles to make easy access. Thick and thin binders stored in bookshelves lined the back wall.
A man, occupying a desk at the empty space near the door, looked through papers. "Oh. Captain" He stood at Twilight's entrance, a nod in greeting "What can I do for you?"
Twilight of course, nodded back. "Everything on the recent lab that was taken down, if you could."
"Of course." The man said, pulling a paper from his scattered desk to study it. "Those are restricted files, you'll need to sign for them." He said, handing him another piece of paper he drew from a drawer.
Twilight had perfected the signature in preparation for this and easily forged the mans sharply pointed style.
The man then retrieved a few binders and files for him, and Twilight left. He locked himself in Lucas Fern's office and set them out on the desk, laying open a binder with a flick of his hand.
And began to read.
The first page made of five digit numbers, dated back to at least forty years ago. No names and all labeled dead. The section went on for several leaves. The tenth page held three digit numbers and no dates. Subject 001 was the first entry. The correlating status was labeled successful.
Then 002, failure, dead. 003 failure, dead. 004 successful. 005 dead. 006 dead.
Subject 007 successful.
Loid scanned through them quickly, every number under 007, either in progress, or failed.
Or dead.
It held no other information, and he moved on. The next page was old and delicate. The big, bold letters caught his attention, but what he read underneath left him motionless.
"Uh—" He choked.
Project Apple:
Esper experimentation
~~~~~~
An effort to further the capacity of the human mind. Electrical brainwaves theorized to have greater potential than currently accepted in many scientific studies. The mental development of adolescents is thought to be best equipped to successfully adapt to the high threshold of the resulting modification . . .
"Uh—"
' . . . . .What. . . . ?' Loid thought, dumbfounded. Unaccepting of what it said. Frozen on the project summary that shouldn't be real. A piece of fiction that was only found in storybooks and movies.
'What is this!?' He wondered at the binder he held up for a better look and read it again, but it didn't change. This couldn't be right. This didn't make sense. How was this possible?
Read it again.
'WHAT IS THIS?!' He repeated inwardly, dropping it on the desk, a hand to his forehead as he took a step back with the other braced at his hip.
Glared at it. Stepped forward again to whip the page to the other side as if it would nullify what he just read somehow, but nothing. Whipped it back. Stood up straight. He paced once in a circle around the chair's desk, hand still to his forehead.
Read it again.
This couldn't be right, he insisted at himself. This couldn't be right. It had to be fake, but he knew there'd be no such thing at the SSS.
Besides, the casing was old, it had been around for a while and he had seen Yuri with these at the lab.
They were real.
What did this mean? Did— Did this mean Anya was—
He couldn't finish it.
Considered the implications.
The organization had successfully created telepaths that could read people's minds. They had successfully experimented on children that could read people's minds. They had turned children into espers. They had turned . . .They had. . . They had turned. . .
They had turned Anya into an esper. . .Anya could read minds. . .
Whatever Twilight was expecting to find, it wasn't this. He couldn't move for a long moment. The reality of what he read battled with his sense of reason.
This shouldn't be possible. This shouldn't have happened. The kids they used, shouldn't have lived like this. Anya shouldn't have lived liked this . . .
Anya shouldn't have . . . Anya shouldn't . . .Anya. . .An . . .Anya was an esper. . .
Loid thought again, unable to come to terms with it. Anya was an esper. . . .Anya was an esper. . .
He lowered his hand to rest both of them on the desk and leaned over it.
Turned back to the tenth page in a haze.
Subject 001. Subject 004. And subject 007.
She was one of those, then. He stared at the numbers.
What did he do now?
The question issued new problems. If Anya was an esper, how much about him did she know? That he was a spy?
He turned to the next page, one he hadn't seen yet. The newer paper, too intact to be the original. A detailed account of a subject from the nineteen-twenties.
'Anya is a telepath.' The thought interrupted.
Their first subject. Subject 10010.
A description of every experiment, every positive, every negative, every little thing they learned from this person. A description of how they died. The analysis went on for several pages, the scientists who wrote these, bereft of any humanity.
Loid scanned through a few, all of them different in some way. The older subjects filling up the thick binder.
'Anya is a telepath.'
He closed it with a heavy thunk and looked at the others in weighted indecision.
'Anya is a telepath.'
Her's was here somewhere. A report on her time with them. Answers about her past he'd been questioning for a while.
Did he really want to know? Did he want to go searching for her records of how she achieved her telepathy? What had happened to her before she was his daughter? Was it really a good idea? He didn't even know her subject number, would he recognize it as her's if he saw it?
'Anya is a telepath.'
Twilight took a moment to consider, staring at the binder in front him. Black and ominous with spots of fluid staining the aging cover. The tiny crevices forming on the edges.
He picked it up hesitantly. Put it aside.
And pulled another one in front of him.