Nikita woke up surrounded by white. Blinded by the light that seemed to come from everywhere, she called out for her girl, "Caroline! Echo! Where are you?"
An impenetrable looking door opened and a man dressed in all black designer clothes entered. His posture as perfect as a mannequin, and an air about him she'd grown an instinct to avoid. "Hello, Nikita." He had a bit of a French accent, but that didn't make her feel better.
"Where am I? Where's Caroline?" She backed up as far from this man as she could.
"You're in Section One. And your lover is in the next room." He rounded the bed, so she scurried over it to the other side.
"When can I see her?"
His pause created more unease in her. "After you've been scanned into the system and imprinted."
"Imprinted? What the hell's going on here?" Avoidance instincts put on hold, Nikita readied for a fight.
The man sat on her bed and pointed a remote at the wall. "This is what's going on." An image of a fresh grave without a stone shown on the wall. "This is your grave. You were executed in prison for murdering a police officer. The execution was faked and you were brought here to be a Doll. An Operative that can kill with efficiency, but no remorse."
"But I didn't kill anyone!" Memories of the dead cop in the drugstore flashed over and over, until she couldn't hold back the tears. "What if I refuse?"
"Row eight, plot thirty." And he left, a distinct clink of a lock engaging reverberated in his wake.
When the door opened, and a man in all black walked in, Caroline attacked, only to be thrown off like she had all the strength of a mouse. His unaffected, "Good morning," only served to irritate her more. But she knew a losing fight when she saw it.
"Where the fuck am I?"
"You're not in prison anymore. The world thinks you're dead. Suicide after your girlfriend's execution." He handed her a glossy photograph of a cemetery. "That's your funeral."
There were no people in the picture, and the idea that no one cared enough to mourn her dropped the photo to the floor. Walking away and sitting on the bed, Caroline jutted her chin out. "You never answered my question. Where am I?"
"You're in Section One."
"Never heard of it. Who're you?" Crossing her arms over her chest, she leaned back as if unconcerned.
"My name is Michael. And if you behave, you might get scanned and imprinted today."
"Hmm, and what does that mean exactly?"
"We'll scan a copy of your brain into the computer, complete with memories and abilities, and we'll imprint the basic training programs in you. Fit you for the hardware, surgery will be the next day." He didn't leave her time to comment, but rather walked out the door, lock clinking in place behind him.
"I'm going to be a goddamn cyborg. Fucking hell, Car, you couldn't let the idea of Dolls go, could you? You just had to keep pushing and pushing until becoming a Doll yourself, didn't you?"
Watching on the monitors in the hall, Michael heard what Caroline muttered to herself. A moment later he was joined by both Operations, Adelle and Paul.
"At least she knows why she's here," Adelle said in her crisp English posh.
"Indeed," Operations replied. "The question is, should we reunite these two, or keep them apart?"
"I say we return them to each other once they're initiated, but with the threat of separating them should they give us any trouble."
"Separating in the permanent sense, I imagine."
"Of course." Adelle turned to Michael. "Pick one and bring her to Topher's office. The sooner we get them processed, the sooner we can send them out. We've got more numbers than we can handle as it is."
Michael bowed his head. "Of course, Ms. DeWitt. They'll both be processed by this afternoon and ready to go out tomorrow."
"Thank you, Mr. Samuelle."
"Michael."
And the Co-Operations walked down the hall in opposing directions.