A/N: Here's the second chapter where they decide how they're going to solve this dilemma. Let me know how it is.
Planning
"Damn it!" the chief bellowed, slamming his hand down on the counter in the control room. The other employees looked on nervously. Emery stood with her head down, her hands folded, looking more vulnerable than a mouse before a hungry cat. "I'm sorry, sir. Freya promised me she wouldn't kill! I trust her!"
The chief whirled. "Emery, do you remember when we first brought number 32 here? She was the sweetest, most adorable three-year-old anyone had ever seen. She was polite, caring and considerate—except for one tiny flaw. The minute you turned your back on her, snap! You found yourself before the golden gates without even knowing what happened or how you got there!"
Emery flinched under his harsh tone, but remained calm. "Sir, Freya's had a hard life. She's bitter, angry and determined. She wouldn't even listen to me when I told her to go back. But she listened and agreed when I told her not to kill. She only wants to be free. She said that she wouldn't kill unless she was threatened."
The chief eyed her furiously. "You made her promise that!?" he roared. Emery whimpered and flinched. Bad move.
"It seemed reasonable." She whispered. The chief snarled angrily and hurled a paperweight at a nearby computer, missing the worker by mere millimeters as he ducked to safety with a yell. The computer exploded in a display of sparks and crackling static.
"Emery, how could you fall for such an act?" he growled.
"What do you mean, sir?" Emery whimpered.
"Emery, you god-damn fool, the Diclonius are threatened by all humans that cross their paths! They sense that humans are their enemies; therefore, they will kill them without a thought! That, or transfer their DNA through an artery, unnoticed, and further their own lines! The human has no idea of it until their children are born with horns sticking out of their skulls! That's how number 35 came into being!"
Emery swallowed. "What do you mean? Number 35 was—"
The chief cut her off. "Number 35 was the late chief Kurama's Diclonius daughter and the biggest monster of them all until Freya showed up. The only reason Freya was here is because of her damned instinct! Chief Kurama had been touched by number 3, a younger Diclonius who managed to escape and was killed by an employee and friend of Kurama. Thanks to number 3, number 35 was born some years later. Now, the biggest god-damned problem since that demon-child has escaped and it's thanks to you, Emery!"
"Freya isn't like that!" Emery shouted, suddenly defensive of the Diclonius. "I spent my whole life teaching her! I only brought her in because you demanded it!"
"I demanded it because she would have killed you, too, Emery. That's the nature of the Diclonius! We ordered her confinement because she killed her own parents!"
Emery faltered a moment. The death of her beloved sister was still fresh in her mind. "All right." She snapped. "So I'm not Freya's real mother. However, I am her aunt and I share the same DNA as her mother and Freya herself. Freya can sense that and she was confused by my similar appearance to that of Emily. If Freya wanted to kill me, she would have done so when I tried to stop her."
The chief sighed irritably. "No, she didn't kill you, Emery, but she did kill Emily and Robert and she did kill every single guard we sent against her. She's worse than Lucy and Mariko combined. This is why we have to send our best operatives against her and bring her back. I also want number 16 released for this job."
Emery gasped. "No, number 16 likes to torture her victims. You saw what she did to that technician who was only trying to feed her last week. I worked with number 16 under Freya's protection before her advanced confinement. Number 16 has had a violent childhood and despises everything. How will you control her?"
The chief reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny receiver and remote. "I took a page from Kurama's book. I used a similar device to the bomb implanted in the body of number 35 at her birth."
Emery gasped and covered her mouth. "You didn't!" she cried. "I may dislike number 16, but you can't blow her up if she refuses to cooperate!"
"It's not a bomb, Emery." The chief said coolly. "It's a tiny vial of deadly toxins; the disease smallpox to be exact. In her sterile environment, number 16 has never even contracted a common cold germ. If I enter the correct code, the vial within her body will disintegrate, releasing the virus into her system."
Emery was appalled. "Why are you doing this? It would be more merciful to shoot number 16 on the spot. A virus like that would kill her within hours."
The chief grinned grimly. "Yes. Number 16 likes to torture others. I figure, 'she who lives by the sword, dies by the sword'."
Emery scowled angrily. "You're horrible."
"Now, enough of this." The chief barked. "Start the protocols for releasing number 16. Emery, you're familiar with this one. I want you to oversee her release."
Emery looked up, both hopeful and horrified. "Does this mean I'll get to go along in the search for Freya?" she asked.
"No, of course not." The chief snapped. "Number 16 might kill Freya. I doubt you'll want to see that. Now, go with the techs to number 16's holding chamber. She's chained rather well, but stay at a distance of ten meters. That's the limit of her range."
Emery did her best to keep from crying. "Yes sir." She choked.
She left the room with the men.
/ooo/
A young girl with long bright pink hair tied in a ponytail looked up as her chamber door opened. Her dull pink eyes narrowed and a sly grin appeared on her face. "Ooh, this should be fun." She cackled, straining against the chains holding her. Emery entered with the five men, all of them holding tranquilizer guns. The girl's face turned into a pout, her lower lip jutting out. "Aw, no fair. My vectors won't do any good against tranquilizers. What do you want, anyway?"
Emery approached, being careful to stay ten meters away. Without Freya to protect her with her forty-some vectors, Emery was completely vulnerable. Number 16, or Rumi as she was generally called, had a total of twelve vectors and was the third most dangerous Diclonius in the facility. Emery knelt down to appear less threatening. No matter how cruel they might be, it always broke her heart to see this near children chained up like this. But she knew that for some of them, it was for the best. Many could be quite dangerous.
"Rumi," Emery spoke calmly and quietly. "Do you remember me?"
Rumi snorted. "Duh! You're that creepy lady with the tame Diclonius. I think her name was Felicity. Something fancy. What do you want?"
Emery resisted the urge to correct her. She'd learn everything in time. "Rumi, I have a small favor to ask you."
Rumi grinned. "Come closer, I can hardly hear you." She said, suddenly friendly. Emery sighed. "I'll speak more loudly." She said in a much louder tone. Rumi scowled. "Number 32 has escaped the facility."
Here, Rumi's eyes went wide. "You mean the starfish freak?" she shrieked, referring to Freya's generation ability. She became haughty. "I thought she was your little pet, the traitor."
"Rumi, Freya was my daughter. She was tired of being kept in advanced confinement. Be grateful you've got light to see around you. Freya couldn't take it anymore and she broke out. We…we need you to help bring her back."
Rumi frowned. "What's in it for me?"
Emery looked back at the men behind her. One of them shrugged. Emery hated herself for what she was about to do. "We'll allow you to move freely about the room—unchained." She said, knowing the chief would never agree to it. Rumi instantly brightened. "Wow! It's a deal, lady! That's the next best thing to being free! Sure! When do we leave? Hey, can I wear something cute? How about something like that white coat you're wearing? I've always loved your strange human fashions!"
Emery stopped. For a moment, Rumi sounded just like an average teenager, discussing shopping with her mother. She smiled wearily. "Rumi, you can wear whatever you want." She said. She stood up. "If you promise to keep your vectors away, I'll let you wear my coat right this minute."
Rumi let out a squeal and started to squirm in her chains excitedly. "Wow!! Sure, of course! Come over!"
Heart pounding, Emery slowly started forward. She had no idea if this was another of Rumi's tricks. The Diclonius could be extremely devious when they wanted to be. Some of them had been known to hide their vectors after being confined in an attempt to prove their innocence, even against bullets. It only ever lasted up to a month, however.
After ten steps and two meters into Rumi's range, when nothing happened, Emery began to feel like Rumi was really telling the truth. Rumi started to bounce up and down on her folded legs, whining in excitement. "Ooh, what's taking you so long!? You're in my range; if I wanted to kill you, I would! Hurry! I'm so excited!"
Emery sighed and walked a little faster. She reached Rumi's side and knelt down, holding the coat out to her. Her heart thudded in her chest as she stared into the little face of her possible killer. One wrong move and she'd be history. She unlocked the chains around Rumi's wrists and waited while she rubbed them and sighed. "Ooh, that feels so heavenly." She murmured. She looked at Emery and there was no hostility in her eyes, a pretty good sign for such a snippy Diclonius.
"Okay, can I wear the coat?" she asked. Emery smiled and nodded. Rumi turned and Emery carefully slipped the coat on her, gently pulling her arms through the long sleeves. Rumi shakily stood up, admiring herself. "Oh, it's so cute!"
She spun in a circle, the heavy coat swamping her little frame. Emery slowly began to feel more at ease around her. Rumi turned. "Okay, now lets' get down to business."
Emery gasped as she was suddenly lifted high into the air. She felt something heavy closing down on her windpipe and clawed desperately at her throat. She opened one eye and glanced down at Rumi, still smiling up at her.
"You promised!" Emery gasped.
"I know. I don't want to get your blood on this pretty coat."
She cried out suddenly and fell to the floor, clutching her abdomen. "Ow! What was…that?"
She started to sway gently and with a sigh, fell over, unmoving. Emery tumbled to the ground and slowly got to her feet, trembling. One of the men dashed over while the others began to bind Rumi. He put a hand on her shoulder.
"Are you all right?" he inquired anxiously. Emery nodded, shaken, staring at the limp form of number 16, still wearing the coat. "Yes. I was foolish. I truly thought I had her for a second."
"Damn monsters." The man growled, shaking his head at Rumi's limp body being loaded into a bag for transport. "They enjoy taking advantage of kindness like that. Come on. Lets' get her ready to go. We have to catch number 32."
Emery felt her heart wrench at the sound of Freya's number, but she said nothing. She just watched as Rumi was carried out.
And she followed, like a lamb to the slaughter.
A/N: How was that? I wasn't too cruel was I? Oh well. Rumi is a fun character to write for. I'm not sure how many Diclonius I'll create. By the way, is there a plural for that word?