A/N: This is a continuation of Schizo's Semi-Automatic. With her permission and close eye on her baby, she's asked me to finally finish this story.
Welcome to the final draft of Semi-Automatic; Riddle Me This.
Disclaimer – All related characters belong to either Naughty Dog or J.K.R.
Riddle Me This
Part I: Misplaced
Chapter One: Running Up That Hill
"Readings remain the same," the lead researcher told him, shoulders sagging in disappointment. The woman, he knew, had put hours into this project and to be faced with this unchanging state, undoubtedly, left her on a ever shortening fuse. He chuckled lightly, stroking his beard. The General almost pitied those who stood beneath her in rank. He might have just made their lives Hell with the reopening of this doomed project.
"What did you expect?" The General soothed, placing his hand on the back of her chair, "It has only been three days... Patience, Dr. Yuma, is a virtue."
"Yes, Sir." She conceded, returning to the screen with a scowl and choice words.
The General, uninterested in the after procedure, turned dark eyes to the solider at his side. Alec Vine, recently promoted Commander, stood a statue at his side. A top ranked cadet, excelling in hand to hand combat, Alec Vine was not a man capable of hiding his true emotions. When he tried for steely indifference, he only ended with a half scowl and stricken eyes.
"We'll place the boy on the roster for this coming year's entry," the General concluded.
Commander Vine turned to the man in disbelief, his lips parting as if to object and as Commander, he had every right to. He oversaw admissions to South Ward and to allow a child such as the one they unstrapped from the table was unheard of. Too skinny, too young, too inexperienced with life – the list of points against the child was long and weighty, but the General had plans; he could afford an oddity or two in the grander scheme of things.
"General Neverous," Vine protested, "that child is no older than sixteen – if that..." He gestured faintly towards the lab beyond the bulletproof glass, "he would not make it past Hell Week. Consider the fact we don't know if he's competent enough to be trained as a soldier." Vine gave a lengthy pause, choosing his words with practiced choice, "Would it be wise to allow him into the General public of the Academy? He's not exactly willing in these tests..." The Commander reasoned - a hint of bitterness behind his words.
Neverous spared his Commander a terse smile, silencing the man more effectively than any command would have. "Now, that is Murdock's job, isn't it? The boy will be under constant observation until I believe he will not openly discuss what we are doing."
"Sir," Vine attempted, but ultimately shrank back under the General's darkening expression, "I'll retrieve him and get his minors for the application." With a stiff salute, Vine fled the sight of his superior. It was curious, Neverous considered, Vine was not one to argue openly with superiors – He supposed his guilt was beginning to colour his words.
He could only smile, shaking his head as the door slid shut behind the Commander. 'Do you still think you can be a 'good man' after everything you've done Alec?'
'Are you still that idealistic?'
~x~
In the privacy of the corridor, Vine removed his helmet to take a fortifying breath of air. He scowled over his shoulder, damning himself for thinking the General was beyond this project. Had he not been the one to stumble across the disoriented boy in the jungle and had he not promised safety within Invisera's walls – Perhaps the boy would have gone on in life without this to terrorize the last few days of his life.
Alec knew, in thoughts he'd never voice, that even if the child survived the testing - or the training – he would not walk from these walls a respectable man. It would be a deeply scarred monster they would unleash on everyone.
'He won't,' Alec reminded himself, pushing towards the lab, 'Neverous doesn't know the fire he's playing with.'
Punching the lock release with more force than needed, he stepped into the sterilized Alpha Laboratory. It had been, at one time, part of the weapons development sector. Once they had started the project, it had been converted to a testing facility. Good men, ones he had trained with, saw the end of their lives there. He thanked the Precursors when the death toll reached a number even Neverous saw distinct failure in and ordered immediate termination.
Alec, himself, had been the idiot that brought the human boy here.
The researchers convinced the General to try again. That the boy would promise immediate, if not interesting, results.
The first time he saw the boy strapped into the machine, the first time he screamed like the others, Alec had demanded the foreign matter detection in the samples to be stricken from the records. If this was the fate of the boy - he prayed he died quickly. He had seen far too many drawn out deaths...
Within earshot of the scientists, the White-Coats, he wasn't surprised to hear their excited chatter. They always took far too much pride in their work and, to Vine's sickening realization, joy. It would make their careers, they preached, once they were allowed to publish their findings. No one ever had the chance to see, much less experiment, with human genetics or biology. They died out long before the Precursors Wars, Eco – the books say – killed them off. They marveled at his genetic coding like it was gold – how he lacked the proper gene sequences to absorb or process Eco. He had more of this, less of that, etcetera, etcetera.
The only difference Alec saw was the shape of his damn ears.
"Why he screams," Vine caught as he made his approach, "I have no idea. Nothing should be causing that much pain or delirium – or Hell, weakness, until the mutations are due to start."
"Rejection, Sir, that's the most probably cause." An assistant chimed in, eyes never leaving her touch-pad.
Alec cleared his throat pointedly.
With disappointment, Dr. Caleb Asters asked. "Are you here to take him? I had hoped for a few more moments to test his hypersensitivity..."
"He's not a toy," growled Alec, unable to stop himself. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and collected himself before he dared to speak again, "Yes." He amended with a clipped tone.
Once they released the straps, he slid from the table into a lifeless heap before the guards could catch his too thin body. As they seized his arms, a low muffled groan resounded deep in the boy's chest. Startled, they dropped his arms and the scientists looked almost giddy.
"He's awake," Dr. Asters chattered, "take this down – perhaps it is a start to a resistance to the pain of the procedure! Commander," he whirled, almost pleading, "let us have him for a few more hours – to take samples-"
"Orders of the General," Alec interrupted, "he's to go to his cell. Take him up," he barked uneasily to his guards, "Gently..." he added quietly.
He admired the mercy his men showed the boy and ignored the glowered from Dr. Asters. Neverous had demanded his placement in the roster, but he could award the boy some rest. If nothing, he'd earned it for still being alive. Reproachful, he turned away trying to think of a reason to why he remained at this post. As he turned, all he saw was green staring back from the arms of his guards.
Lucid and loathing; the boy's eyes damned him just as the others did... Yet there was a new punch to it that left him uncomfortable and agitated. The soldiers understood, to a degree, why Alec continued to stand beside the General.
'No child should have those eyes,' He thought grimly.
They hated, but not as completely as the boy before him...
~x~
They found him curled in a tight ball, covering his mouth with the soiled yellow tunic he'd been left in. Alec had never stayed to witness the aftermath of the sessions, but he'd heard enough from the patrolmen to know that the boy was crying and groaning for hours after a treatment.
A part of him had prayed they wouldn't find him a ball on the floor where Salik and Corwin left him... Another knew that wouldn't be possible.
"... Alright," he decided, "get him up... We'll take room four."
Consciousness seemed to come to the boy, eventually placing his feet beneath him to limp as the guards guided him through the door. He stumbled and tripped, but Alec's men were patient as he attempted to walk on his own.
The Commander admired him for it, "Sit," Alec told him, waving the guards away from his side. With the support gone, he swayed a moment before clumsily searching for the chair. He continued on with his eyes closed and Alec wondered if the last treatment left him blind. He wouldn't have been surprised; he'd seen far stranger things from the serum. Once the boy had found the chair, he groaned with relief as he collapsed into it.
Alec took the seat opposite him, watching as the boy attempted to look at him. He soon gave up, sagging his shoulders in something akin to defeat and let his head fall with a heavy thud to the table. The Commander winced, hoping he hadn't knocked himself unconscious.
"This isn't an interrogation," he felt the need to explain, "I need a few of your personal details to fill in your enrollment application – first off, what is your name?"
The boy must have recognized his voice as he stiffened in the chair, hissing under his breath with a savage hint. Clinging to a fragmented order, the boy rasped. "Why are you doing this? What did I do-"
Alec would have answered, half glad to hear the boy speak after three days, but his Major struck the boy with the blunted end of his weapon. He let out a sharp yelp, snapping his hands to the back of his head before choking. He gasped and sputtered, desperately spitting out the blood the poured down the corners of his mouth.
A glare forced the Major back to his corner as the second abandoned his post to pry open the boy's mouth to place a waded piece of gauze to the punctures. After a few moments, the boy's labored breathing resided, and the guard removed the gauze patting his shoulder reassuringly.
"Your name?" Alec questioned again, making a note to promote the Lt.
"H..ha... Harry?"
~x~
Attempting to keep himself vertical, Harry wrapped bruised fingers tightly around the edges of the aluminum chair. His palms ached where they were cut, but he ignored it in favor of not being sick all over himself.
"Surname?" The man he remembered to be Vine coaxed.
"Potter," he stumbled in the drugged haze he'd been in for days.
"Age?" the man continued.
'How old am I?' Harry thought frantically. He couldn't remember if he was thirteen or fourteen... when was his birthday? Had it already happened? How long had he been going to and from that chair? "F... Four..." He attempted, but found himself mumbling as if he was daft.
"Fourteen?"
Harry could only force a swallow nod; the long eared mass muttering while he scribbled on something that might had been paper. "Younger than I thought... Can you," he started slowly, "perhaps, manipulate objects? I've heard it referred to as 'magic' in some old book... but I haven't put much stock in it..."
Harry had expected many things from this conversation; he hadn't expected that.
"W... what do you know about them?"
White lights burst in front of his eyes as pain exploded in the back of skull. The force sent his forehead into the steel table with a wicked crack, breaking his nose, if not his two front teeth. For a brief moment Harry was blissfully unaware of the pain spreading across the bridge of his nose. It came like a slap to cold skin, stinging and bringing tears to his eyes. He whined helpless, crumpling into the chair to cradle his head in his hands.
Vine sent his chair screeching across the concrete floor and Harry could only whimper in fear as the man's voice boomed in the suddenly too small room. "Hit him one more time and I will have you docked!"
"Sir, I was only –" The soldier attempted.
"Don't confuse curiosity with defiance! I need this done and he needs to be coherent for it!" Vine growled, the sound of scrapping metal telling Harry the man had retrieved his chair. He found himself wishing the guard had hit him harder... Only so he didn't have to continue with this horrid headache.
"Sir." The guard stiffly apologized, stepping away to Harry's quite relief.
'Let me go home...'
Vine sighed irritably, "To answer you – we know nothing, only that some could and some couldn't. For your first question..." He paused, Harry learning forward in his seat to hear him past the pounding his ear, "this is a project to create better, stronger soldiers and you were selected to participate in it."
"I... I didn't give..." Harry stumbled, squinting at the black and blue mass. He remembered Vine in faint flashes of the fight near the waterfall. Lean and tall, muscled and imposing in full armor... The only feature that Harry clearly remembered was his eyes. They reminded him of Albus Dumbledore, a man Harry trusted with his life.
"Harry, did you understand me?"
With a shaky nod, Harry reluctantly brought himself back to reality. "Yes," he rasped.
"Hmmm," Vine hummed with little inflection, "Final question, when is your birthday?"
"July 31st, 1981." He replied quickly.
When Vine's silence stretched to uncomfortable length, Harry briefly thought he'd gone deaf. He cast his good ear in the man's direction, praying that wasn't the case.
"... What month is July?" Vine eventually asked.
"Seventh?"
He shuffled his papers; the sound grating Harry's already frayed nerves. "Take him back. We have what we need."
Relief rushed though Harry, the thought of his cell invigorating for all the wrong reasons. Just as the violent guard's hands fell on his trembling shoulders, the door opened in a rush. Another mass joined the mess, her voice stern and unfamiliar.
"Sir, your presence is required in the hall. Baron Praxis has arrived."
Vine muttered an oath, "you're both dismissed," he snapped.
With effort, Harry rose from the chair with the support of the table. A hand touched his arm, tugging upward, and Harry let out a surprised cry. In a spur of fear, he smacked it away as if it had burned him.
Vine, he realized, reached forward again and took hold of his forearm tightly. Fingers bit into the infected cut left by Wormtail. He cried out again, sinking to his knees as the pain twisted his stomach. "Please stop!"
"For Mar's sake..." Vine muttered, hauling Harry to his feet. Sobbing, he let Harry standing on his own for a moment – swaying back and forth in his daze. Cold metal pressed to his skin, snapping his wrists together painfully. For a moment, he thought Vine had left him, but the touch of cloth on his face told him different. He gasped, jerking away, and felt a hand on the back of his head. Confused, he shuddered as Vine kept his head steady and wiped his face with rough material. "C'mon kid," he said softly, "tough it out... It only gets worse from here."
Minutes later the ground beneath Harry's feet bounced. He stumbled forward, Vine's hand the only thing keeping him balanced. "Hold up," he muttered, spinning Harry around. Something came close to his face and again, he flinched away. The soldier grunted in annoyance, seizing both sides of Harry's head and digging his thumbs into the broken cartilage. He let out a sharp cry as it cracked – but felt only relief.
Vine slipped glasses onto his nose, minding the bruised skin.
"My..." He rasped, the world righting itself.
"I found them before we left the falls. I didn't realize you were completely blind without them." He stretched his arm wide, hitting several buttons that sent the elevator lurching upward in a smooth crawl.
"You lied," Harry dared to say, the Commander turning to face him, "you lied."
His fists curled in anger as the Commander continued to stare at him. He wanted something from the man... to admit anything that would tell Harry why he saved him from the horde of monsters only to lead him here. Why had he been so amicable if he only meant to toss Harry to the dogs as soon as they passed through the gate? He wanted a reason. Any reason at all that would allow him to at least forgive Vine for what he'd done.
Just so he didn't feel so much the fool for trusting him.
"It's what I do," Vine sighed, the lift pulling to a stop.
"Bastard." Harry hissed.
"Yah... I know," Vine muttered, pulling Harry after him into a lavishly set audience hall.
"Ah Commander Vine," Neverous grinned, hands folded over each as he greeted the smaller man with a curt nod. Harry's stomach dropped at his voice, turning eyes to the seated General. Neverous was easily twice of the size of Vine. Shoulders and hips narrow, but packed with lean and hard muscle. He was a man that commanded a rooms attention by merely walking in. His eyes, the same colour as their armor, were cold and cruel.
Harry forced himself to look away as Vine saluted. He let his sore eyes travel across the room, taking in the interior, and relished in the clear picture. He'd spent what seemed an eternity in a back drop of blurred images and masses he couldn't quite make out.
"I didn't rightly believe your claim." A gruff and richly baritone voice rumbled from across the dark mahogany table. Harry found there to be a man unlike any he'd seen since he arrived. He seemed more comparable to a mountain than a man, in all honesty. Short dark hair greying at the roots barely touched the edges of metal plates stuck to the contours of the man's scarred face. The guards of Invisera were dressed in thin armor, all black and blue, but the men flanking the seated 'Baron' were very different.
They stood at ease despite the bulk of the red armor splashed with white script runes and black under armor visible through the spaces between plates. What could be seen of their faces beyond their helmets and visors was painted with bizarre geometric patterns. They were made of thick strips and smaller circles that extended up their ears and down their necks to disappear behind black fabric.
Between them, to Harry's surprise, was a boy no older than him. For a brief moment his eyes, bright blue standing out against the black soot smeared across his face, met his before falling back to hands he twisted inside the confines of the handcuffs. The bags under his eyes and the gauntness of his face suggested that he rarely slept or ate. However, if Harry had to guess, the greenish blue bruising around his left eye wasn't from late of rest.
Nevervous gave the Baron a curt nod, eyes on Harry in the same way his Aunt often took to her prize winning roses. "Not many do, my good Baron. My Commander found him wandering the Ivory Jungle a mile from here. I, too, was surprised when he came with the child in tow... Vine," he ordered with a wave of his hand, "Bring the boy here."
Vine obediently nodded, hissing under his breath as he handed Harry to another. "Don't do anything stupid."
The guard ushered Harry forward with a flat palm against his back. Nervously, he stumbled to find himself standing within arm's reach of Neverous. He noticed then, a man leaning against the back window. He wore less armor than the others. His distinctly orange hair was slicked back beneath a mask and amber eyes rested lazily on the Baron as he spoke. He held himself with a certain arrogance that strongly reminded Harry of Lucius Malfoy.
"He's young," the Baron observed, "You said you were performing tests?"
Vine's expression didn't change, but the unknown guard looked fairly intrigued. He studied Harry then, seeing his flaws and sweated palms with a flick of his eyes before turning his attention back to Neverous.
"Yes," the General replied, "basic infusion of proteins and a drug trial." His hand waved over the blue half sphere, sending up a holographic representation of a chart Harry couldn't decipher. Stepping away from the wall with a critical eye, the red-head elf reached forward to spin the projection.
"Is that dog DNA?" he questioned, casting a skeptical eye to Neverous.
The man only smiled, a simply shrug of his shoulders. "It is needed to dilute the serum. The breed can take it, the boy cannot."
Harry tried to absorb what he could, but was left with far more questions than before. None of what they listened seemed lethal, and Baron's guard had commented on it as he stepped away from.
If it was all, truly, so basic... They why did it feel as if his body was tearing himself a part each time those needles pressed into his skin?
"As for age," Neverous mused, "I believe you had a conversation with the boy, Vine?" He looked to the Commander expectantly.
"Fourteen, Sir." Vine answered lifelessly with a hint of veiled spite.
Almost mercifully, Neverous turned the attention of the room on the prisoner opposite Harry. "And what of this one?"
"He's part of the Dark Warrior Program," the Baron explained, "Daily injections of Dark Eco."
The General let out a small whistle, eying the blonde with a new found admiration. "Dark Eco, and he's still breathing?"
Harry took notice of the bemused half smile that tugged at the red-headed elf's mouth as he looked to the boy. In return he silently snarled and glowered back at the man with absolute hate in his eyes. The elder man merely raised an eyebrow, hand slipping to the gun resting at his hip. He tempted the boy with a look, daring him to say anything that might allow him to use the weapon in his hand.
His eyes screamed an arrogant; 'I dare you.'
Begrudgingly the boy looked away, grinding the middle of his shackles together in a angry screech of metal.
"He is a Channeler," Praxis answered; unaware of the exchange, "They tend to survive longer."
"A rare find," Neverous commented, locking his fingers together on the table, "Almost as rare as a human now a day."
"Yes," The Baron snapped dismissively, "but to the point of this?"
"Of course," Neverous didn't miss a beat, "As your Commander is fully aware of the first year is the training, second is merely honing those skills. I believe you and I have private business to attend to."
Vine, it seemed, heard the obvious dismissal in the General's voice. With rigid, almost forced movements, he took Harry by the arm and easily navigated him to the waiting elevator. With little coaxing, Harry settled himself in the corner in front of a blue guard and behind Vine. He was glad to be free of the room. He wanted his cell to simply sit down and recover, he honestly didn't know how much farther his legs would carry him before they quit.
The Commander waited on the red-armored guards and their prisoner. He watched from over Vine's shoulders as it took two men to wrestle the protesting teen into the lift. It took the shorter guard grasping the back of his neck and practically tossing him against the back of the lift for to get him in. He collided – hard – with the metal railing before snarling at the man.
"You got promoted," the man stated as the doors closed with a metallic win, "weren't you a Lt. last time we spoke?"
Vine gave a nod, suddenly more relaxed. "It was recent. How did you score Commander, Erol? I thought Torn had the honor of that before you."
"He did," Erol responded disdainfully, "He defaulted from the guard."
Vine chuckled, shaking his head as they stepped into the hallway. "For Mar's sake, no one saw that coming?"
Harry lost the conversation as his headache began to pulse with a horrific intensity. He shared a fleeting glance with the blonde, but neither cared to look longer than a second. He took a keen interest in the wall and Harry found his shoelaces of more interest. When they approached the cell, Harry was relieved. Scared, but relieved. Nothing was expected of him when the door closed. He, almost eagerly, extended his hands towards Vine who removed his cuffs with a key card and ordered him in with a jerk of his chin. He went without complaint, only glad to be rid of the Commander by this point. Once the elf was shoved in, they were left alone in the dark. The boy remained in the centre, glowering over his shoulder as he rubbed chaffed wrists. A weary sigh left his lips when his hands dropped to his side, turning his attention solely on Harry.
"Who are you then?" He asked hoarsely, American-accented just as the others were.
Harry let the silence reign while he limped over to his metal cot. Slumping down gratefully on the thin mattress, he mumbled in turn. "Harry."
The creaking of rusted metal told Harry the boy had taken the second cot. With barely three feet between them, the cell barely clearing nine feet itself, it was an uncomfortably tight fit with a stranger. He, painfully, dragged himself closer to the wall to place at least a few more inches between them.
"Jak," the boy offered rubbing the nape of his neck to message out a knot, eyes never leaving Harry. He was, much like Harry, clearly trying to decide what Harry was. "My name is Jak... Do you know what this place is?" He ventured, eyes flashing to the dark jungle just beyond the barred window.
"No," he whispered despairingly, "I have no sodding idea what this place is..."
The frigid breeze that came every night swept in with a cold, cruel rush. They shivered in silence, both never truly looking away from the other. No matter which way Jak looked as he inspected the cell did he lose Harry from his peripherals. With the dim light of the dying sun, Harry could just make out the outline of his cellmate. He was rubbing the tops of his arms for warmth. His clothes, as Harry's were, barely clung to him and offered little in the way of protection from the chill.
"So..." Harry began awkwardly, failing for a way to continue. With a sigh, he gave up and buried his face in his palms.
"Eco experiments," Jak spoke, having understood the question Harry couldn't form, "I... I've been in Haven City for... a month? I think..." He paused to consider the floor between them, "you?"
"I didn't know until now..." He admitted tiredly, "Drugs... and dog DNA? Everything is just... mental..."
"... You're bleeding," Jak tapped the space between his nose and upper lip.
"Thanks..." He muttered, rubbing it away with a torn edge of his shirt.
"Worst part," Jak began, "I'm not even sure how I got here..." he raised his hands in a bemused way, "there was this light and bam-" he punched his open palm, "I'm clubbed and dragged into a prison."
Harry turned himself onto his side as Jak's face fell to defeat and exhaustion. "How... so?" Harry coaxed, the story sounded so painfully familiar.
"A portal... well.. A Rift Gate," he corrected himself, "I was separated from my friends when we came through... and here I am." He flourished his hands.
"Funny..." Harry faintly replied. The flash of anger that crossed Jak's eyes forced Harry to wave his hands in surrender, "Not like that – I mean I came here in a similar way...I'm not really from this place either."
A smirk tugged at the corners of Jak's mouth. "A lot in common then."
They fell into a pregnant silent as the horizon swallowed the sun. The jungle became alive with the dusk and exotic sounds of the jungle somewhat soothing in their docile, muted tones. His first two nights, the soothing din had been the only thing that could lull him into a fitful rest.
"I missed that," Jak whispered, a deep longing in his voice.
A soft humming over took the gentle roar, creeping up the side of the wall before slipping through the bars. It's volume grew as a neon light bounced above Harry's nose before zipping to the center of their cell. Jak edged forward on his cot with caution, his hand extended to create a small platform. His face was illuminated by the muted green when he quickly brought up his hands to capture the light between his hands. "It's a firefly," he smiled, sitting the light between his fingers gently, "Where I come from, we used to paint our faces with these... It would last for days."
Harry watched as he crushed the light between his thumb and forefinger and smeared it over his open palm. Even with the creature gone, the bio-luminescent light flared brightly against his skin. Jak pressed his palm on the space between their cots and counted quietly to himself. Upon reaching ten, he slid his hand away to expose a perfectly painted hand print that filled their cell with a soft light.
"Wicked," Harry breathed, too exhausted and amazed for more. It seemed chase away the darkness in way that made the space seem less oppressive and drowning.
Jak gave Harry as small nod of acknowledgement.
"Hey... Jak?"
"Yeah?"
"What's Dark Eco?"
