While we received our revelations, Leah woke up to a dire situation. She squinted her eyes, adjusting them to the brightness of the room. The fluorescent light in the ceiling flickered and hummed lightly. Leah didn’t know where she was. She sat up on a bed and rubbed her neck. She could feel the soreness and winced.
“Sorry about that. I guess,” said a woman’s voice, sarcastically.
Leah was in a ten-by-twelve foot room with no windows, walls painted white, and the only other thing in there besides the small bed she was on was a folding chair. Sat on that chair was a woman with blue eyes, long blonde hair pulled into a ponytail, and an athletic build that could only belong to an Olympic level track star. She wore a tight body suit that covered her neck and stretched to her wrists and ankles. It was a second skin put on the body of an apex predator to reduce drag. Other than all that, she resembled a normal young woman reading a fashion magazine who looked very, very bored.
This was Charlene. Actually, this was Daytona. They were the same person, I guess, in a sense. They looked similar. But the Charlene that existed before running away from home was a pale shadow of the woman that was Daytona. People looked at Charlene and took pity or took what they wanted because she looked like she lacked the will and strength to fight back. People looked at Daytona and shied away because she looked like she would take what she wanted and nothing could be done to stop her. Charlene’s eyes were angry and scared. Daytona’s were confident, predatory, and very much over babysitting right now.
“I said, sorry about that,” said Daytona.
“What?” from Leah, groggy.
Daytona cocked her head slightly to look at Leah.
Her look said, with much attitude, Seriously? Are you stupid?
What she did say was, “I’m apologizing for your neck being sore. I don’t usually have to carry people and the speed can be rough.”
The apology was hollow. She only made one because her handler told her to make Leah feel better. She never did anything out of the goodness of her heart. Most who knew her doubted there was any goodness to find. I’d like to think there was something in her, a small piece of light that could have been redeemed, but I really don’t know. I didn’t know Charlene enough to say she could have been good.
“You can call me Daytona, by the way. Not that it matters too much,” she said with a deep inhale and exhale as she stretched.
She looked back to her magazine and continued to try and not be bored.
“Listen. If you’re just going to sit there and look stupid, do me a favor and stay quiet,” she said.
Then under her breath, “This is what I get for taking a side mission to grab a stupid kid.”
Leah tried to speak. “What…”
“Nope.” said Daytona, cutting Leah off in frustration. “No more talking. It's bad enough I have to babysit on top of not blowing you up. You’re welcome for not being dead, by the way.”
She loudly flipped a page to convey her annoyance.
“Someone is coming to take you off my hands. So just sit there,” she commanded.
She pointed to the bed where Leah is sitting without averting her gaze from the magazine.
“And say nothing.”
“But…” was all Leah could get out before Daytona was in front of her with a knife to her throat.
There wasn’t even a blur. It was like frames were missing in a film. One moment Daytona was sitting and the next she was in front of Leah. The look in the blonde’s eyes wasn’t quite soulless, but there was a dark menace behind them that wasn’t quite human either. She no longer looked bored. Now there was a very sharp focus. A dark smile crept over her face. Creating fear and inflicting pain brought her joy. It was the scariest thing Leah had ever seen. It ranks pretty high up there for me too and she couldn’t harm me.
I doubt Daytona was ever bored. It think it was more like theatrics to play with Leah. She was not allowed to kill or harm, so she played with her prey instead. Daytona spoke very clearly and methodically, her voice dropping to a slightly deeper and menacing tone.
“I said, be quiet. I’m not your friend. I will skin you alive if you say another word to me. And I can do it sooooo fast that all you will notice is that suddenly you no longer have skin.”
Daytona’s eyes scanned over Leah’s body rapidly, her mind potting how to do the skinning. Her smile indicated that was very much enjoying the thought.
“It will be very painful and a huge psychological shock. You may pass out from the pain or you just might flop around all bloody and skinless, in a lot of pain.”
Now her smile broadened. The more brutal the method of pain the better. She was a killer who enjoyed her work. She savored it like someone would enjoy their favorite dessert. In less than an eye blink, Daytona was sitting back in the chair reading her magazine, once again looking bored.
“I mean, that might actually be kind of funny watching your skinless bloody flailing around, freaking out. But for now just keep it quiet,” she said.
Leah got the massage and kept her freaking out to herself. Daytona flipped another magazine page for effect. She could have read that entire magazine a few times in a heartbeat. Maybe even less than that. Leah kept her head and eyes to the floor. But for a second, she dared to look up. Again the dark spark appeared. Something in her crept out for a moment and Daytona didn’t see it. It was something in Leah’s eyes and the faintest sinister smile that dared to slide across her lips. It disappeared when the door swung open and Morden walked in.
“Keeping yourself amused?” said Morden to Daytona.
“A bit. Took you long enough. I got places to be, people to kill,” said the killer as a matter of fact.
Smiling at Leah, Morden dismissed the blond.
“You go when and where I tell you. And you may leave now,” he said.
“Whatever,” said Daytona.
She dropped the magazine on the floor, got up, and sauntered out of the room, taking her sweet time in mild protest to being dismissed. Morden kept his attention on Leah and shook his head.
“You’ll have to forgive her rudeness. That is her normal state of being, unfortunately. And it will never change. She is a remarkable girl, though. But not nearly as much as you,” said Morden.
Morden bent down so he was at eye level with Leah.
“You are going to change everything,” he said.
Leah looked so scared and confused. I still feel sorrow and regret for not being able to keep her from this. Maybe there was nothing I could have done. Morden did not bother explaining what he meant by changing the world. Leah was just another means to an end. He turned to exit the room and left the door open. Leah starred at the open door. She must have considered running. There was another rush of air and she slapped her neck like she was trying to hit a bug that was biting her. Her eyelids got heavy and she collapsed onto the bed, back into sleep. For a second the veil of fear dropped on her face before she was completely out. It was like a part of her was exactly where it wanted to be. In a lab down the hall Morden waited for the rush of air and the annoyance it brought. Daytona didn't wait for her boss to start talking as she slowed to normal human speeds.
“Are all the theatrics necessary?” she asked, dropping the syringe onto a metal table. “You could have just kept her out cold. I don’t see why I had to be here.”
“I could have kept her unconscious but I wanted to get a sense of her. And you need another reminder of your place in this world,” he said.
It was Morden’s turn to put on a menacing smile. Daytona tried to run but quickly realized that she couldn’t move at all. Or talk.
“I can’t describe how much I want to cut that tongue out of that pretty little mouth of yours,” he said.
He grabbed her face, his hand covering her mouth. He squeezed hard.
“But I fear it will make you even more unstable,” he said.
Daytona couldn’t even move her eyes or blink. Her blood was boiling. Morden knew it. Even slowing down enough to interact with average people took some effort on her part. Her speed was the ultimate freedom from the world and the perfect power to get away from and away with nearly anything. Or destroy nearly anything. Morden removed his hand from her mouth, grabbed her by the back of her neck, and slammed her face down on the table. Not hard enough to do damage, but hard enough to emphasize his dominance over her. He applied enough downward pressure to highlight the point.
He calmly bent over her and spoke directly into her ear, “You are my pawn. I activated you. I own you. You are a tool that exists at my leisure. A necessary annoyance that is useful to me. I’d be hard pressed to replace you, but you can be replaced. Now stuff your hate fire for me in a tiny little box in that tiny little brain of yours and use it for something constructive.”
He had been steadily exerting more force on her neck as he spoke.
“You do not question me. Period. I think you need another time out.”
Internally Charlene was screaming as panic started to set in. Her eyes started tearing up. Not being able to move is her hell. What came next was hell’s deepest depths. Two lab techs wheeled in a long metal box on a dolly. It looked like a metal coffin. They set it on the floor and opened it. Still holding her by the neck, Morden led Charlene to the box.
“I doubt you will ever learn your place,” he told her.
He made sure Daytona was looking down at her mobile prison.
“I can’t say that doing this to you doesn’t amuse me.”
He pushed her in and kicked the lid shut. The techs locked the box and wheeled it away. It had ventilation enough for her to breath but there was so little room she could barely move. It was also heavily reinforced on the inside. Morden released her from his control the moment the box was locked so she immediately began screaming and fighting to get out. Her fighting was so fast it sounded like the box was humming. It was too strong for her to break out. Her speed was useless. They took her somewhere deep under the facility where no one could hear her. Then Morden’s phone rang. The phone number did not show but the ID said “HC Lab.” He pushed the button to accept the call.
“Good, Dr. Graves. What do you have for me?” he said.
“SC is en-route to the Cape. Final software updates will be made onsite,” said Dr. Graves’ voice over the phone.
“Gold stars. Excellent work. Please continue,” Morden said and hung up.
He stared at his phone for a moment then sent a text.
“What a waste,” he said.
The text bounced around different servers around the world then got to its destination a couple of minutes later. The encrypted message landed at a server at Haller-Challis Pharmaceuticals, which then routed it through a secret virtual server, down to the underground lab where Dr. Wolfe continued his work. He typed and typed, oblivious to his surroundings or anyone who stopped to look in on him. Programs, data, and equations streamed out of his mind and onto the lab’s local server. Then a message popped up on his screen.
When finished, time to sleep.201Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡx5Gd7Rebii
Your friend,201Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5WtSHUDVHJ
M
“Good. Good. Good. I get to sleep now. Must finish quickly,” said Dr. Wolfe.
Faster than ever he began furiously typing. A technician noticed the increased activity and called Dr. Graves.
“What is it?” she asked when she got to Dr. Wolfe’s window.
“Something is going on. He is typing like crazy in there. Way faster than usual,” said the technician.
“Did his meds change?” asked Dr. Graves.
The technician pulled up Dr. Wolfe’s file on a tablet.
“No. Everything is the same. But it looks like his terminal received a message from the outside,” he said.
“What? That’s not supposed to happen,” she said.
Before Dr. Graves said anything else a klaxon sounded and a blast door slid over the only entrance/exit to the lab.
“What the hell?” asked the technician.
Panic welled up in Dr. Graves. She ran to a computer terminal on the wall.
“No, no, no, no, no,” she said.
She tried typing in her access code, but the terminal defaulted to a red screen that read, “SYSTEM LOCKED”
“He locked us out of the system,” she said, dread falling over her.
“Who?” asked the technician.
“Morden. Maybe Wolfe. I don’t know,” she said, panicked.
The PA system sent out a message.
“Warning! Fire suppression test in ten seconds.”
“No!” cried Dr. Graves.
She didn’t wait for the lab tech. She ran to the closet that housed emergency oxygen masks and tanks. When she opened it, it was empty. She felt suddenly cold as the blood drained from her face.
Over the PA system, “Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Fire suppression test in progress.”
The entire lab was flooded with halon gas. A method used to put out fires, it’s not immediately lethal to humans. But the air circulation was also turned off, no emergency oxygen was available, and the lab was completely sealed. No one would check on the lab that technically did not exist. The blast door would never open again.
“Good. Yes. Finished,” said Dr. Wolfe.
He walked over to a cot he had in his room. He laid down, and closed his eyes.
“Now they let me sleep,” he said.
The lab’s server uploaded Dr. Wolfe’s work to a satellite link and then the server bricked itself, overwriting all data, including any firmware and software running the system with zeros on the code level. Some of the data that was sent out was transmitted to the on board system of the SC drone that was on its way to Florida. Other files were transmitted to a facility somewhere in the deserts of southern California.201Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsUukcgo6rJ
