NINE
SCARLETTS EYELIDS FLUTTERED OPEN, THE setting around her unknown from where she had fallen asleep last night. Soft sheets and a maroon colored blanket caressed her skin, a much softer pillow laying beneath her head. Had the concussion messed with Scarletts memory badly enough to the point where she couldn't even remember the last place she had been?
The woman lifted herself upright on the bed, the blanket falling down to her waist. Her brown eyes scanned the room.
She strictly remembered being led here by a curly headed woman with a mask on — who told Scarlett her name was Ayana.
"Whose room is this?" The Agent asked, looking around skeptically. A kitchen with marble countertops and dark stained cabinets, a king sized mattress, stocked bookshelves and a full bathroom? It was far too nice to just be a guest room.
"It's, um— Lucien stays here. Do you know who that is?"
Lucien. Flashes of him crossed her mind. The oddly temperamental but seemingly caring hacker who only checked on her every so often, asked questions, and left.
Scarlett had correctly guessed him to be their leader here. While Anonymous did not associate themselves with having a leader or a boss who controlled their actions, Lucien seemed to automatically take that place — without having to be given that role. He conducted meetings, he asked the questions, he was considered as their boss.
Of course he would have the nicest room in the whole damn building.
The brunette nodded. "Yeah, I know he is."
When Ayana had said her goodbyes and left, the woman didn't bother to give herself a tour of his bedroom. She took a blanket off of his bed, and threw the pillow that was underneath her arm on the floor. A makeshift bed, it would do for now. Scarlett didn't want to sleep in Lucien's bed, she refused to.
And now she was here, laying in his bed. Had Lucien moved her here? Scarlett ruled that possibility out of her head. He wouldn't do that. Perhaps it was Ayana — she was light enough to be lifted by another woman, anyway.
The woman got out of the bed, walking around the room to give herself a personal tour. Part of it was out of pure and utter boredom, and part of it was her own natural curiosity.
It became obvious that Lucien liked to stay clean and tidy.
The kitchen area was spotless. The counters reflected the lights on the ceiling. The food stored in the cabinets above had already been sorted by their groups, starting with canned goods and ending with spices and grains. When Scarlett checked the fridge, it was mostly empty except for the half full water filter and some produce products stored in the bottom drawers. In the freezer were some tubs of mint icecream, which made the man seem oddly human to her.
Upon opening the icecream to see if he had eaten any, she realized that he likely ate it straight from the tub — it was almost empty, spoon markings in what was left to fit. It wasn't like Lucien wasn't human. He did the normal things almost every body else did on a regular basis. The only differences? That he was apart of Anonymous, and he was keeping her in his room. She could probably name a lot more than that.
Luciens collection of classic novels was what impressed her the most. The Great Gatsby, Wuthering Heights, Great Expectations, Emma, A Tale Of Two Cities, War and Peace. All of the books were in outstanding condition, not a speck of dust on their spines. She pulled some of them out of their places carefully to take a look, before putting them back in the exact spot it originally sat.
"I take it you're a reader, too?"
Scarlett shrieked, jumping back and dropping the copy of Pride and Prejudice on the hardwood floor.
The brunette had been so enamored with his classic novels that she didn't even realize Lucien had entered the room. How long had he been standing there like a creep, watching her touch all of his precious books? His tone didn't sound very bothered, which relieved her stress by a small fraction.
She let out a shaky breath, looking towards the man. He was still wearing his mask, which didn't surprise her. "When— when you enter a room, make yourself known. It's a bit alarming."
"Noted." Lucien walked into the kitchen, opening a couple of the cabinets. "So, are you a reader?" He asked again.
"Sometimes. I'm busy most days."
He nodded. "Have you eaten anything?"
"No." Scarlett hadn't felt hungry since the minute she had woken up here. And she hadn't thought about eating, either.
"Go take a shower while I make something for you. The bathroom is in the corner." Lucien turned around, looking her up and down. "If you look in the counter below the sink there's some clothes you can wear."
Scarletts cheeks flushed. She was still wearing that tight dress from the other day. All she could muster was a nod, and rushed to the bathroom to hop in the shower.
Without even checking for what Lucien has picked out for her to wear, she locked the door and stripped out of her clothing. Scarlett turned the shower knob all the way to the left to get it as hot as possible. She got in quickly, getting sprayed with a splash of cold water. It gradually got warmer, eventually coming to the point where it was burning her soft skin.
The Agent didn't mind the heat. It felt good to shower.
Looking around for the shampoo, the brunette spotted two new bottles in the corner. Upon closer inspection of the back of the bottles, she realized Lucien had gotten her shampoo and conditioner specifically for her curly hair. Was that a mistake, or did he actually spend the time and money on such a thing? Scarlett elected to ignore it. Pondering over whether or not Lucien spent the time looking for shampoo and conditioner for her wasn't worth it.
She popped open the lid, taking a sniff. Lavender.
Scarlett got out as quickly as possible, wrapping the towel around her body and opening the cabinet to search for clothes and her medicine. A stack of clothing sat in the corner — which all consisted of blacks and dark greys — with her ibuprofen put straight up on the top. She opened the bottle, shaking a couple of pills out and swallowing them all at once.
In eight hours Scarlett knew she would have to take more so her headache wouldn't return, but she didn't even know what time it was now.
The Agent grabbed the clothing next. Black skinny jeans, dark grey underwear, a dark grey bra and a black shirt. She started to put it all on, most of the clothing fitting more closely to her size. The skinny jeans fit almost perfectly, but the black shirt was rather tight on her chest.
She walked out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her hair. The woman leaned against the kitchen counter, watching him as he cooked.
Homemade waffles? How... normal.
"Thanks, by the way," Scarlett acknowledged. "For the clothes. Where— who did you get them from?"
"Natalia." His answer was short, straight and to the point. Lucien put the newly made waffles onto a plate with a fork, and slid it across the counter. "If you need anymore food, tell me."
The woman grabbed the place and took a seat on a stool, beginning to eat her breakfast. They weren't perfect. The waffles were a bit burnt at the edges and a little dry, but she gulped them down like it was her last meal. Who knew? Maybe it would be.
"Your meeting yesterday," Scarlett started off.
"What about my meeting yesterday?" Lucien asked, a bit of an edge to his tone. He walked over and grabbed her empty plate from the table, putting them in the sink.
"How did it go?"
"It was fine. Thank you."
"Was— was the meeting about me?"
Who else would it be about? Scarlett scolded herself. Don't be ignorant.
It was a stupid question to ask, but she needed to know.
"Yes."
"And what about me was discussed?"
"What we are going to do with you. We're torn apart at the moment. Some want you—"
"Dead?" The silence between them was enough to give Scarlett the answer she needed. "And what do you think, Lucien? Do you agree with them?"
"I'm not a robot, Scarlett." It was weird to hear him say her name. "I am, at the end of the day, a human underneath this mask. We weren't expecting to capture an Agent. Unprepared, if you will. And while you prove to be a danger to us all, I don't agree or disagree with my colleagues."
"You don't want me dead?"
"I, um— I don't know."
Oh.
Scarlett had misinterpreted who Lucien was. Part of her had expected him to be more robotic and cold hearted than a human capable of emotion. He didn't want her dead — or, didn't know if he wanted her to be dead. Relief filled her body.
Lucien was her enemy. Scarlett was his.
But he was willing to spare her life. And for what? Answers for his questions?
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts. "Come in," Lucien called out.
Another masked head popped in through the door. "We need you immediately. It's urgent, Lucien."
"What is it, Gabrielle?"
"We have them," Gabrielle responded, glancing at Scarlett before averting his gaze.
"You have who?"
"The other two Agents."
NOTE
Thank you for 4000 reads! For that I wrote a little more than what I usually write for a chapter — which is 1000 words.
Tomorrow I'll mostly be editing again, I'm not sure if I'll update with a new chapter because there's some plot holes I desperately want to fix.
Thank you for reading, everyone!