I quietly approached him, watching as he moved his head back and forth, trying to get a sense of his surroundings despite the blindfold covering his eyes.
I tried to channel all my anger against him, remembering the way he treated me the first time we sparred. It wasn't difficult; I hated him more than Hector, and Hector had shot me with a tranq dart that made me howl in pain.
I gently removed his blindfold and smiled widely at him, watching him blink as his eyes adjusted to the light.
"Good morning Francis. You woke up just in time; I have a few questions for you."
"Just get to the questions already. I won't budge, you'll see," he spat at me.
I ignored his remark and began to circle him slowly.
"I know you know where it is, Francis. The file. I know you know who has it," I said, finishing my circle so I could see his facial expressions.
At the word 'who' rather than 'where', I saw a slight change of temper in his eyes-- the slightest hint of fear.
I let his fear fuel me. "Yes, you know who has it. Now this can go two ways-- you give me their name, and all is well-- or I can make you give me the name."
"Not in a million years--" Francis began to say before I cut him off with a quick kick to his chest, leaving him wheezing.
"Now that wasn't very nice of you. Let's try that again. Who has the file?"
"I don't know--"
I punched him in the face, hard, watching as he winced. When he looked back, his eyes looked less certain. "Lying isn't very nice, Francis. Why would you do that? Now how about you tell me the name."
"Not a chance, bitch."
I kicked him hard in the shins, then slammed my fist into his stomach. I heard him gasp in pain, and when he looked back at me, his eyes were watering.
"H-howard Jackman. T-that's the name," he said quietly, his voice wavering. I bent down and looked him in the eyes, long and hard.
He squirmed under my gaze, looking everywhere except at me.
"You're lying," I growled.
"Am not!"
"You're lying!" I shouted, punching him square in the jaw.
"Tell-- me-- the-- truth!" I said, kicking him between each word.
"Taylor Moore," he shouted, turning his head towards me. I could see two tears running down his face. "That's the name. Are you happy now?"
I felt my blood run cold. A second earlier, I had been reveling-- the feeling of unbridled control, the ability to know that I could inflict such emotion from a person-- it had sent my heart racing. The instant I looked into his eyes the feeling faded into regret and remorse. No matter how terrible he was, Francis didn't deserve this. No one did.
I opened my mouth to choke out an apology, but was cut off by a guard entering the room. I kept my eyes glued on Francis, on the bruises that I had inflicted, as I was escorted out of the room.
I kept my head down in shameful silence as I was led down hallway after hallway by the guard. "Wait here," he said, leading me into a room and closing the door behind him. I heard a gasp that made me finally look up for the first time since leaving Francis.
"Gracie," Cam choked out as he quickly stood up and walked towards me. "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry... please forgive me, you have to forgive me, I had no choice," he sobbed, embracing me in a tight hug, clutching my head to his chest.
I stood silently in his arms, trying to banish from my mind the memory of him hurting me. He didn't have a choice, just like you. He didn't have an option.
"It's okay. I understand. I had to do the same thing," I said quietly, gently putting my arms around him.
We were silent, just hugging for several minutes. "How did you do it?" I finally asked him.
"What?"
"How did you flip a switch so fast? One minute you were in tears at the thought of hurting me, the next you were the angriest I've ever seen you."
He took a deep breath as he broke the hug, leaning back against the table. "You have to promise me this is strictly confidential. No telling anyone about this, alright?"
"Of course," I said instantly, although internally I was hesitating. What could he have to say that needed to be top secret?
"I told you my family and I kind of had a history, right? Well, it all started in middle school. I was going to a new school, and at that age it was hard for me to make friends. People weren't always the nicest to the smart kid with good grades, you know? When I finally did make friends, I didn't quite realize that... that they weren't exactly the good sort," he said shakily.
"They were older, in high school, but I felt like I could talk to them. They were nice to me, made me feel like I was part of their little family or something. That never happened at home-- my parents were always working, so I was always alone. It wasn't for a few months until they invited me to... to 'hang out' with them. It turned out their definition of hanging out was stealing and bullying. They taught me to be mean: they taught me how best to channel my anger at life in order to terrify people."
"The worst part? I actually liked it. The part of myself that told me this was wrong was silenced by my desire for friends, for my desperation for any sort of companionship. So I went along with them, doing what they said. It didn't get serious until-- until--"
He broke off, looking at the floor. "They started hurting people. For no reason. And I... I helped them. One day I came home late at night after helping them, and for the first time ever, both of my parents were home. Imagine their shock when they saw their only son walk in, blood spattered on my t-shirt. The first thing my father did was walk up to me and scold me about being out late doing God-knows-what..." he paused and took a deep breath.
"I don't know what got into me, but I had had it. I was done with being neglected by them, and so... I... I punched him. Hard. Hard enough to snap me back into the reality that no matter how shitty a person he was, I owed him the smallest bit of respect for keeping a roof over my head. So I went into my room, and from that day on, I learned to control it, like an on-off switch. At school and home? Lively and cheerful. With my friends? Angry and cruel."
He looked downwards, as if he was in a daze, reliving memories from his past. "A year or two later I stopped... helping them, but that side of me never quite went away. The side that almost... enjoys it. Hurting people."
He raised his head and met my eyes. His green eyes, so lively at breakfast, had turned dark and broken. "You must think I'm a monster," he said quietly, not breaking our gaze.
I slowly approached him, taking his hands in mine. "You are not a monster. You feel remorse; that means you're not a monster," I said quietly, and he lowered his head.
"And I get it. When I was interrogating Francis, it felt... good. Surprisingly good."
He merely nodded, keeping his gaze glued to the floor. I leaned forward and slowly hugged him. A moment later I felt him hesitantly placing his arms around me, holding me close.
I hadn't felt this close to another person since... well, since Ian.
We didn't stop hugging even when we heard the door open and steps approaching us.
"Am I interrupting something here?" Theo's voice rang out.
Cam and I turned towards the doorway where Theo was standing, looking livid and angry.
"No, not at all," Cam said as he released me, looking at Theo inquisitively. I quickly walked over to Theo, who instantly swooped me into his arms and kissed me hard.
I kissed him back, feeling slightly bad for Cam who had to sit and watch Theo and I make out. "Babe, not right now, we're in public," I muttered, breaking the kiss and turning towards Cam.
"So what are you doing here? Did you finish your interrogations too?" Cam asked Theo, crossing his arms as he stood up.
"Yeah. They just told me to wait in here."
"Same with us," I said. "We--"
I was interrupted by the door opening again, this time letting in Hazel.
"God that was awful. Nice to see you guys though," she said, slightly limping on her way in.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Francis gave me a hard kick to the ankle is all," she said, collapsing into a chair with a sigh of relief.
"If it makes you feel any better, I made him cry."
Hazel flashed me a smile. "That helps, actually."
We were all silent for a few minutes: Hazel rubbing her ankle, Cam looking at the floor, and Theo and I cuddling.
Our silence ended the moment the door opened again, and a guard entered the room. "Congratulations on being the only four trainees to successfully complete both challenges. To determine which of you is the winner, you will each be interrogated by someone with much more... experience, than you have."
The guard finished speaking, and we all looked up at him inquisitively. "Your information to keep hidden is the same. Good luck," he said, exiting the room.
"That's it? He's just going to leave us here again?" Theo said irritably.
I sighed. "No. He'll be back in three minutes. Why do they always insist on doing this to us?" I complained, looking at the ceiling.
"Doing what to us?" Hazel said as the telltale sound of misters went on, and blue mist began to descend from the ceiling.
"I'm starting to get really tired of being unconscious," Cam said as the blue mist settled at our feet and my eyelids began to fall.
After that, darkness claimed me.
*********
"Wake up. I said wake up," someone's voice rang out, and I felt someone strike me hard across the face.
I could feel the cool texture of fabric on my eyelids, so I didn't even bother opening my eyes. I focused on the sound of his voice... I had heard it before, hadn't I? Before I had met Hazel, and Cam... that voice-- it reminded me of--
Oh shit.
I felt the blindfold removed from my eyes and saw Roger's face scowling above me.
"Out of all the trainers they picked you?"
"Luck of the draw, sweetheart."
I felt my heart lurch. The last time I had heard him call me that was back home, before I had heard of the AIA, before I had any plans for after high school.
"Go ahead. Hurt me, bruise me, whatever you want; it didn't work before, and even though you're stronger than Cam it won't work now," I said calmly, trying to hide how terrified I was.
I knew Roger wouldn't hurt me. We were... well, not really friends, but he was my trainer. He had escorted me on a plane to London when my mother refused to let me go otherwise. He had helped teach me to throw a punch, he taught me how to kick the living daylights out of people. He had even given me my first gun, which I kept safely hidden underneath my bed in case of an emergency.
Roger's face remained blank at my words. "Although you are wrong-- there are definitely physical means to coerce people into subjection, especially means I have at my disposal--" he looked up at me with a devious glint in his eye, "I have no intention of using them. This, I have found, can be a much more powerful motivator."
He went over to a box in the corner of the room and pulled out a folder with a label I couldn't clearly make out.
"Would you tell me what it is, if the alternative was slitting someone's throat?"
He held up a picture of a complete stranger to me. "Tell me the password, or this man dies."
I looked searchingly into Roger's eyes, trying to decipher his plan. I remained silent, and Roger ripped the picture in half. "Done."
I heard the harsh sound of a gunshot from the room next door. "Pity you don't take this exercise seriously, Gracie. A man just lost his life because of your stubbornness." He gestured to a tv monitor in the corner of the room, which switched on to show the man in the picture's body sprawled on the floor, facedown, blood pouring from him temple onto the white floor.
I gasped. "T-that's not real. None of this is real. This can't be happening--"
"Wake up, Gracie. It is happening. That man is dead, you hear me, dead in the other room, because of you," he said softly, lacing his words with venom.
I squeezed my eyes shut, thinking. If this was real, and this was the AIA's information, what would they want me to do?
My eyes opened in realization, my gaze aimed at the floor. I thought back to Ms. Tyrans' insistence on secrecy, how we must keep the AIA's secrets above all else.
This was a mission. And I was not going to fail.
I looked up at Roger with renewed determination. I locked eyes with him, maintaining eye contact for as long as possible to keep him from looking at my hand shifting around behind my back, trying to loosen my bonds.
"Okay, he's dead. So what. It doesn't change my mind," I said slowly, narrowing my eyes at him.
He stepped away from me, digging through the file once more. "Fair enough. He was only a stranger, after all. But how about a friend?"
I froze. He slowly took another picture from the file, revealing Hazel's smiling face.
I closed my eyes. She would do the same if she was here. Mission above all. Do not fail--
"Care to answer me? I do have all day, but that's beside the point."
What if this is real? I thought to myself. What if refusing to answer really means-- he wouldn't-- she's a trainee, he couldn't possibly--
But he could, and would.
I shed a single tear as I shook my head, my lips trembling. "Alright," he said, ripping her photo in half. Not a second later I heard another shot ring out, and the vague sound of a body hitting the floor.
"No," I said shakily, looking up at the monitor. The screen reappeared, this time showing Hazel's slim figure sprawled on the floor, a red puddle pooling around her stomach.
"You bastard," I whispered, shaking my head, my eyes wide with fear and disbelief.
"She's dead, Gracie. Because of you. Because of your stubbornness," Roger said, echoing my thoughts perfectly. I continued to shake my head back and forth, the repetition helping to keep me from crying out.
This bastard had killed my friend, and would kill the rest without blinking. I'd be damned if I gave into anything he said.
"How about this one? Cam. You two are pretty close, right? Why don't you tell me the password, and I won't hurt him. Although I must admit, seeing the light go out of those bright green eyes of his would be thrilling," he said unfeelingly, holding Cam's picture up to my face.
I fiddled with the bonds around my wrist, feeling them loosen slightly. Not enough, but progress. I kept shaking my head back and forth, back and forth, as a few more tears left my eyes. "Burn in hell," I responded shakily, and Roger sighed, ripping his photograph in half and tossing the pieces haphazardly aside.
I watched the pieces flutter to the ground as the third gunshot rang out. I squeezed my eyes shut, not bothering to look up at the monitor-- if I saw the motionless body of one more friend, I would flip into full on hysterics.
"There goes another one. You're running out of friends, Gracie-- you're tougher than I thought," Roger said. I didn't respond, just kept shaking my head back and forth, back and forth.
"How about someone a little closer to home?" He said, holding a picture of Marcy in front of my face. My shoulders started shaking, and I felt my lips trembling. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare. Don't you--"
"Whoops," he said airily, ripping her photo in half as another shot rang out. "Sorry, you took too long. Want to give me that password yet?"
"Burn--in--hell!" I screamed, tears running down my face.
"See, that's the part you don't understand," he said, kneeling down in front of me.
"I won't be burning in hell, you will-- after all, you're the one killing them, not me," he said, his expression blank.
I stared at him, trying to put ever hateful word I couldn't utter without falling apart into my seething glare.
Roger sighed, standing up. "Well, I guess we'll just have to keep going. Next up... well, doesn't this one look familiar? And old friend of yours, I believe."
I looked up, my expression pained, and my heart stopped. In his hand he held a picture of Ian, something recent as far as I could tell.
"No," I breathed. "No--Don't--Stop--You Can't--"
"What is the password, Gracie," Roger said gently. I looked up at him silently, my eyes panicked and frantic, betraying a look of helplessness I knew he could read.
"Fine. If that's the way it's going to be," he said, placing his hands on the edge of the picture.
I watched as Roger ripped the picture in half, and I heard the fifth gunshot ring out. "No," I screamed hysterically, thrashing in my chair. My bonds were still too tight for me to escape them, although with each convulsion of my body I could feel them loosening, even the ones on my feet.
I looked up at the monitor and saw Ian's body sprawled on the floor, blurry from the tears flooding my eyes. "No!" I screamed again, sobbing, thrashing about.
"It's too late. Care to tell me the password yet? How many friends have to die by your stubbornness?" He said carelessly, turning around to put the folder back in the box.
At his words I felt my bonds snap, and I leapt up from my chair and onto his back, putting him in a choke hold. I wrapped my hands around his neck like a vise-- and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't pull free of my grip.
"Gracie-- it was just-- a test--"
"You killed my friends, my only friends, you bastard, you emotionless, evil bastard!" I screamed, too hysterical to listen to his words, letting go of him only when I could tell I had cut off his airflow enough to knock him out long enough for me to escape.
I searched for a way out of the room. I had to go, I had to leave, I had to get out of here before they could hurt anyone else I loved.
Eventually I saw the outline of a doorway, and I began throwing myself against it in an attempt to break free.
I heard Roger begin to wake up behind me and gave him a quick kick to the head, buying me another thirty seconds.
I could hear people running down the hallway towards the room. I had to get out of here before they got in, before Roger could get me, I had to find another way out, there had to be another way out--
I quickly turned towards the wall opposite the door, remembering the one way glass through which the two trainers had watched Cam interrogate me.
I sprinted as fast as I could towards the wall and jumped, sailing through the glass and hitting the floor with a thud. I got up, fueled by hysteric anger and pain, and began beating the living daylights out of the two trainers sitting there.
They fought back much better than Roger-- but their attacks didn't hurt. I was too numb to feel physical pain.
After incapacitating them both I tried to run down the hallway, but was met by three guards. I turned to run the other way and saw two other guards running towards me, closer than the other three. I tried to duck underneath them, to punch my way through, but to no avail-- I felt hands grab my wrists, and I twisted my legs to kick backwards and cause them to release me, letting me fall to the floor. I pushed myself up and felt someone wrap a hand around my waist as they pulled me upwards.
I thrashed my limbs around as I felt the person holding me inject some fluid into my neck. The world began to blur, and I could feel myself slipping towards the ground, my anger fading and my pain sharpening.
I felt my head slowly settle on the floor and felt my eyes glaze over as I saw several blurry figures lean over me.
My lips tried to scream at them, to shout curses and tell them to leave me alone-- but nothing came out but soft murmurs.
For the umpteenth time, I felt darkness consume me, and this time I was grateful for it.
*********
Hello everyone!
This chapter is the longest I have ever written. I just couldn't find a good place to cut it off!
How did you all like Cam's backstory? And all those interrogations?
I should get another chapter out in a week or so. Remember to leave comments if you have any recommendations/ suggestions!
~ Alyssa 💕