7.
I am led into the building, which is dingey at best, with chipping walls and worn carpeted hallways. There is a haze of cigarette smoke that fills the air and makes me scrunch up my nose in displeasure.
Gray has volunteered to take me to my temporary room, and I don't know how I feel about that. He seems fascinated by me, still wanting to play and poke at the new toy. What is it about me that makes him feel this way?
I am the only survivor. But I barely survived. The only reason I got out alive was because... of Copper.
That thought sets my teeth on edge. Saved by the guy who threatened to kill me. Saved by the guy who, for all I know, put me purposely in that situation.
For what? A test? He wanted to see how the rat did finding it's way out of the cage?
I'm not sure if it's just paranoia, but I almost feel him there, sitting somewhere in my psyche, occupying a region of it like some conquering king. I need to revolt, to reclaim my mind. I hope he can feel my anger as vividly as I do, and I hope even some small part of him is afraid.
"Yeah," Gray says, catching the look on my face and misreading it, "looks like one of those speak easies, right? Even got a bar up front there if you fancy yourself a drink after all that. This is more a meeting than anything, though. Just an inconspicupus place to gather. We don't necessarily have a homestead per say, our establishment is more of an understanding. Our agents rarely come in contact with each other, unless it is beneficial to have a Swatch do a mission together," he continues, hands in his trouser pockets, as we pass down the narrow hall past rooms of other men in suits. Are there no women here? "You will stay here for the night, but come morning, you will be set up in an apartment you can call home. You'll be located in an area known for N.P. activity. They usually operate under the guise of businesses, and the most prominent members are CEO types. Got their hands in everything. Humankind has no idea how the Demons have handicapped them in this battle."
"Do they even know there's a battle going on?" I wonder out loud. Because I certainly didn't.
Gray throws me a grim grin. "I suppose you're right."
I am shown to a room that is no bigger than a closet, with a pull-string light and a little futon shoved into a corner, a rickety looking table at its side.
"It's a place to rest your head," Gray says by way of apology.
"Yeah," I say, because what else is there to say?
"Well then," he turns to leave me, but I remember just then about Copper.
"When do I meet Copper? He said you were going to take me to him?"
Gray shakes his head, seemingly amused. "Guy's all smoke and mirrors, isn't he? I don't know if that's his trick to keeping you--" he cuts himself off suddenly, a look passing over his face like he's gone and said too much. "Well, just go to sleep. He can contact you that way." With that, he turns away and walks quickly down the hall, like he's afraid he's going to slip something else to me.
Except I didn't even catch it the first time.
Whatever, I could care less if I meet Copper or not. If he wakes me up while I am sleeping, I'll punch him right straight in the throat.
"Understand?" I think to him daringly.
He's playing silent again, which makes me snicker. This is no more than a stupid game of hide and seek when you know where the person is hiding and they know you know too.
"You and your metaphors."
I am the one who ignores him this time, locking the room's door with the half-busted latch and crawling onto the futon. Maybe he won't be able to get in. I smile defiantly to myself before drifting off into an uneasy sleep.
***
I am in a park, a very green park, with flowers and trees and a playground that a little girl is playing on, laughing heartily in that way kids do. She is wearing pink overalls and yellow rain boots despite it being a sunny day.
Because they are her favorite
I am laughing with her, I realize, chasing her around the playground and down the slide.
I want to catch her, I would give anything to, I realize. I just want to hold her tightly and tell her I love her.
I miss her.
She stops her running up ahead of me, her head of black curls stopping their bouncing as she stills. I think that this is the moment I will catch her, will wrap her up in my arms and press a kiss to her forehead.
But the scene collapses, shatters to pieces in front of me. The shards of the beautiful day fall to reveal a white, glaring void.
There is a guy in the middle of the room, sitting in a white chair that is barely distinct from anything. His red hair stands out like a beacon in the white space, beautiful like the autumn. He's staring down at a mechanical looking clipboard, moving digital looking things on its face with one finger.
"Hey," I call out to him, expecting an echo or something, but the sound is oddly mute, contained in this place so that shouting seems unnecessary.
"Would you get over here?" he replies, eyes staying on his device.
I glare at him as I approach. "Copper, I presume? This is what Gray meant by you coming to me when I sleep?"
Copper lifts his head then, and I fully get a look at his face. He must be around my age, whatever that is. His skin is smooth and pale, and his eyes seem to be a dark cinnamon color, almost the same color as his hair. His jaw is strong and nose is straight, causing him to look quite severe.
... but he's wearing pajamas.
I burst out laughing, possibly because I have finally cracked from the stress of all of this.
Copper watches me without any change in expression, waiting for my fit of hysterics to dwindle out.
"Sorry," I giggle, "it's just you threaten to kill me, but you're wearing pajamas."
He nods, still with a passive look on his face and types something into the device.
I raise my brow. "What are you writing?"
"Notes. How about you sit down?" He gestures to another white chair that is directly across from him. I could barely see it was there with all the white.
Carefully, I sink down into the chair. "Comfy."
"Why aren't you more nervous?"
"Should I be? I mean, I'm not sure this is even happening." I look around at the blank. "So this place is...?"
"This is you right now." I look up and he is studying me. Like, studying me. Looking at my reaction to all of this.
I stare back, hoping he'll look away. He doesn't.
I clear my throat. "Uh huh, so this is me? I'm pretty boring."
"You're a blank space right now. It's my job to make a mark on you, to build you up new."
I lean forward, giving him another glare. "What if I don't want you to?"
"That's irrelevant," he says, resting his chin in his hand. "You are going to be the new Ebony, the 21448th one, precisely. You apparently have the superior physical ability we look for in a human. You're a physical exemplar." His tone is mocking, like he's rattling off what he's heard thousands of people say about me.
I don't like that I have been a topic of conversation amongst people I do not know.
"I have no memories about myself. Why is that?"
"They've been wiped from your recall. Your long term and short term. Anything personal is gone."
I sit for a second, letting that sink in. A strange floating feeling comes over me, like I can't get a hold of myself, like I'm unanchored in this strange world. "How is that possible? How can you do that?" I demand. "What gives you the right to do that?"
"I have done nothing. I don't select the Shades, I just train the ones I'm assigned to be the best they can be."
"How do you do that? How can you control me the way you do? Why are you in my head?" I throw the questions at him one after the other, my fingernails digging into the hard chair arms.
He taps his own head calmly, "A chip that rests between your hypothalamus and your pituitary. This gives me free reign of your central nervous system, your sympathetic nervous system, and your adrenal glands."
My skin goosebumps. A chip? In my head? Behind my skull? I begin feeling around my head.
"You can't feel it."
"Where's the scar from the incision?"
"The surgery is seamless. They have advanced technology here, if you haven't noticed."
I had undergone a surgery. They injected a chip into my brain. I have absolutely no memory of this.
To mask my horror, I let out a derisive laugh, "So you guys go around, and what, grab people and throw them in the back of a van? Perform hypnotism?"
"More or less."
His answer takes me aback. Wow, I'm in the presence of a psychopath. I'm currently sleeping in the lair of multiple psychopaths.
"Now," Copper says, rubbing his chin and staring down at the clipboard thing. "I have some questions of my own to figure out..."