This story is inspired by 'The Dead Can't Testify', in this same archive, by DramaQueen69981. However, the differences are, I think, substantial enough to constitute original (ha ha) fanfiction.

I am writing without a beta reader. There are bound to be typos and small errors of the sort a fresh pair of eyes would catch immediately. If you see 'em, point 'em out. I'll fix them, and we'll all rest easier knowing the world to be a more grammatical place.

I. The Kidnapping of Reynard Muldoon

The Recruiter's eyes were closed and his lips were twisted into a careless, cruel smirk. Reynie watched him with just the right amount of sullenness, mindful not to let any of his true feelings spill onto his face. It was a dangerous game he played, but Reynie played it better than anyone.

"Well, my good fellow," the Recruiter said finally, opening one eye and chuckling at his own joke, "you're just as boring as ever."

"Sorry, sir."

"I take that back. You're even more boring than you were last year. I didn't think that was possible. Did you think that was possible?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Why does this feel so familiar? It's like I'm reading from a script. Tell me, do you get that too?"

Of course, thought Reynie. Because we do this every year. Every year since I was twelve, you bastard, and you still haven't got a clue. Out loud he said, "I think so, sir," because he was used to dealing with recruiters and used to dealing with idiots, and knew exactly what to say and why saying anything else was a very bad idea.

The Recruiter waved him lazily towards the door. "Get out. See you next year. Bye bye."

Reynie resisted the urge to stick his tongue out as he left.

There were six or seven children in the hall. Like Reynie, all were dressed in the white tunic and gray pants that denoted their status as wards of the state. They were lined up in descending order of age, but the line had sagged and stretched in the thirty minutes since Reynie had entered the conference room. Several children were slumped against the wall, and one had gone so far as to plop down on his bottom and (apparently) take a nap. When the door opened they jumped and tried to straighten up. Reynie smiled at the pitiful attempt.

"Mark, you're up," he whispered to the oldest.

The stocky, blond twelve-year-old swallowed and crossed the hall. He paused with his hand on the doorknob. "You aren't … are you …"

Reynie smiled fondly. "I'm fine. Aren't I always? Now go; you oughtn't to keep him waiting."

The ominous clap of the door sounded behind him as he traversed the long hallway, involuntarily picking up speed at he went. Encounters with recruiters –– government officials who specialized in identifying Potentials, and who worked directly for the M.A.S.T.E.R –– always left him tense and nervous. He supposed it was all the adrenaline, gearing him up to fight or flee when in actuality what he needed most was to remain calm and not fidget.

At least he only had to do it once per year. That was more frequently than most children saw recruiters, but most children did not live at Stonetown Orphanage. Ledroptha Curtain, M.A.S.T.E.R and supreme leader of the country, took a special interest in Stonetown, that being his base of operations, and an especially special interest in orphans, he himself being one. Reynie doubted that Potential was any more concentrated in orphans than in the general population, but the end of the matter was that every orphan was entitled to a thirty-minute interview each year with a Recruiter.

(And to think some might envy him! There were parents, no doubt, who drove their children to every open audition, hoping, praying that their child might be chosen. How Reynie despised them, and how he pitied them, the poor deluded creatures.)

Every year, the Recruiters took some orphans and left others, and every year Reynie worked hard to make sure he was left behind. It wasn't easy pretending to be ordinary when in truth he was anything but. Necessity, however, required it. If Reynie allowed his mask to fall, even for a moment, he would be whisked away to Potential Training within the hour. And there Reynie would find himself well and truly caught, for a single misstep would out him as a resistant mind and send him to the camps.

No, it was best that he appear dull and ordinary. It wouldn't do at all for anyone to know that Reynie heard voices.

(Let go your burdens with Curtain)

Hearing voices might get a person killed.

(Kill the heads and burn the stumps

Tear them out in lumps and clumps)

It had all begun five years ago––the voices, that was. And the irritability, the strain, the angry buzzing that always swarmed around his head. In the beginning he had been a wreck, unable to concentrate, unable to speak without snapping. The most innocuous things had sent him over the edge. (The orphanage wardens had chalked it up to puberty, fortunately.) Eventually he'd learned to control himself, but by then a new world order was in place.

Voices. Amnesia. Mind control. Curtain.

It hadn't taken Reynie long to connect the Emergency to the web as well. How convenient to have a problem, and a man with a tailor-made solution to clear it right up. How wonderful to have Ledroptha Curtain. Just the name sent shivers down Reynie's spine.

At first, some had resisted. They'd been caught of course, and tortured. Reynie would never forget their names.

(My name is Isaac Thaddeus. I murdered an executive; I strangled her so she wouldn't scream. I murdered her, yes, I murdered her.)

(My name is Hannah Holiday. I conspired against the M.A.S.T.E.R. I wanted to hurt him. There were six of us––Justin Crowley was one, and Judy, his sister … )

(Please don't hurt me, please please please. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, they made me. I didn't want to do it! My name is –– my name is ––)

They broadcast for a full month, night and day. The screams always seemed loudest at night. Reynie found that if he could survive that, he could survive anything.

As the years passed, Curtain's grasp on the country had only tightened. Reynie kept his head down and survived. He wondered, though, what exactly he was surviving for. Was a life of only this worth living?

Reynie suspected the answer was no. How much more could he take? What would happen when enough was enough?

Those questions he had no answers for.

Perhaps fortunately, then, that was the night Reynard Muldoon was kidnapped.