Chapter 4.5

Null And Void

You know, in the whole time I was confined within those white four walls that made up a prison cell, not once did I ever speak out of line. I never questioned why I was under lockdown by the Alchemists, I never spoke unless when spoken to—I simply did as they said while trying to make sense of it all myself.

But by the 35th visit from the woman with the clipboard and the pictures and the names, I found I couldn't repeat the process in absolute obedience once again. It was difficult for me, as opposing my Alchemists authorities wasn't exactly acceptable within the codes and laws I was drilled to learn by my father since a young age, but I found I wouldn't be able to stay sane any longer if I didn't ask the one thing on my mind.

The woman drew a seat beside me as usual, sprawling out contents from a manila folder onto the metal table before us. The interrogation was about to begin. I found myself clutching onto the only thing they let me keep when they sent me in here—a golden cross around my neck, which served as the most reliable form of comfort in dire times like such.

"Is something the matter, Sydney?" the woman asked. I looked to the gown that fluttered between my feet and found the courage to raise my voice.

"Can I see them?" I muttered, my fingers gripping onto the cross like it was a lifeboat that determined whether I lived or died. The woman with the clipboard looked taken aback, but she found the change in my behaviour peculiar. She quickly scrawled something across her sheets before responding.

"See who, Sydney?"

I lifted my head slowly, unsure as to what expression I had. Did I look scared? Pitiful? Pleading? If I showed any of the intense emotions that resided within my chest upon my face, the woman kept well not to notice it.

She wrote a little more.

"Who do you want to see?" she repeated, casually glancing to the one photo on the metal table. I knew what she wanted. She was searching for any indication that I knew that man—Keanu Brown—the one in the photo ... but he didn't mean anything to me. He was a stranger. An alien. I didn't know who he was, nor what significance he had to the Alchemists. I didn't even know where to begin guessing. There was so much I didn't know ... and so much the Alchemists wasn't telling me.

I found my voice was softer than before.

"I want to speak to my family. My sisters. My mom." I suddenly glanced up hesitantly. "And my dad." That last part wasn't exactly true.

The woman kept platonic.

"Sydney, you must understand that that cannot be allowed. Nor is it possible."

My brows met in a frown.

"What do you mean?"

I was desperate for an elaboration of her cryptic words. The woman shifted in her seat, looking as if she had something on the tip of her tongue, but was unsure of whether to mention it or not. I found I had to get her to say it, even if it meant finding out something awful. I had to know.

"Why can't I see my family?"

The woman sighed.

"Did you know today is the 25th of December?" she began slowly. I looked away.

"No, I didn't."

"Well, you should. It's Christmas, and of course, the Alchemists are holding their annual Christmas gathering for all Alchemist families." She gave me a blatant look. "This is why you are not allowed to see them."

An image suddenly sprung into my head. A present. A gift. Nothing I'd ever seen before, nor anything that was related to Christmas, but the concept of this holiday season in which presents were received and given jolted a painful memory from somewhere deep inside of me.

The images played out. It was me, hugging someone ... I was giving her something small. A silver medallion, or a cross ... but .. who was this girl I was looking at so tenderly? It obviously wasn't Zoe. The girl in my hazy memory was too small, too pale. Why did she seem so familiar?

Abruptly, like a bad record player, the images came to a standstill, and I found my head hurting the more I tried to remember. I took in a deep breath and tried to focus on the now. That was what mattered. Trying to make sense of where I was.

And why.

The woman sighed heavily once more.

"I'm sorry, Sydney. I didn't mean to offend. Perhaps I should return later when you feel more up to answering questions."

That was as far as I ever got with this woman in the sense of sympathy. Like a true Alchemist, she felt no concern over whether I felt like wanting to re-answer the same, stupid questions or not. I shook my head and my hands fell onto the metal table.

"Wait," I blurted. The woman stopped shuffling the papers back into the folder and gave me a surprised look. Yes, it was the first time I ever demanded something from the Alchemist since lockup. She waited for me to continue, and after bringing myself back into my uncomfortable chair, I cleared my throat and started again.

"I'll answer them," I said. "I'll do it honestly."

Something in the woman's eyes turned, as if suddenly, she thought she had gotten through to me. I could tell she—like probably the rest of the alchemists hiding behind these walls—thought I was guilty of something. Was it because of my associating with Rose? Did they think I was getting too comfy with ... vampires ... just because I helped one dhampir in clearing her name?

Well, to be honest, I didn't care. I had made my mind up. This woman wasn't going to let me see my family, and I needed to get answers. I knew where my father and mom and my sisters were ... the only thing stopping me getting to them was this Alchemist. Her and this Godforsaken prison.

The woman lifted her clipboard once more and flipped to a new page. She gestured to the half empty folder on the metal table.

"Then, please, Sydney—do tell me what you know."

I met her headstrong gaze with fixed determination. No backing out now. No more obedience. I had to escape.

"Not yet," I said. "I ... I need something first."

The woman frowned. "Whatever it is, Sydney, can it not wait—"

"No," I interrupted urgently. "I need it now. Otherwise ..."

I'm sure she understood the gist of what I was going to say. The woman didn't look in the slightest pleased about having to agree, but she seemed eager enough to get the 'truth' from me. This was sufficient leverage for me to wrap her around my finger.

"What is it?" she said monotonously. I shied away slightly.

"I ... I need to go to the toilet."

The thing about this prison room was that it was no more than four walls, an itchy bed, two chairs and a metal table. The only exit to my far right led to a poorly lit corridor with two doors—one to the little bathroom I was allowed to use at exactly 6am and 6pm daily, and the other a complete mystery. I could guess well enough that it'd lead to something more than just another toilet room, but I had never seen what was behind the door, giving me a little hope. All I knew then was that this woman had a little security card with her tiny name on it that let her through that door to somewhere else.

My plan? To obtain that card and get as far away from this facility as possible to find my family, and answers. Answers, that was, to questions like, 'Just who is Keanu Brown?', and 'What interests do the Alchemists have in Adrian Ivashkov?'. Answers to the questions that was asked to me every single day since I awoke in this hazardous place.

The woman sighed and yielded to my demand.

"Fine. To the toilet." She got up and used her security card to open the room's door. "Make it as quick as you can."

I got up as well, tripping over my numb feet, and raced pass her. She followed me to the hall and pushed by me to use her security card to open the bathroom door. Opposite us was another identical exit, the one I was really wishing to walk through. She caught my eye and looked to the bathroom that smelt like bleach. Holding the door open, she poked her head in.

"Come on. The bathroom's here to use."

I nodded my head absentmindedly and walked. I spotted the pristine white toilet in the corner, sparkling with an artificial gleam. Beside it was a basin, decorated with a bar of soap and a hairdryer, above that was a plastic mirror that's surface had no redeeming qualities like it's opposite, glass, and to the left was one long shower curtain hiding the tiny bottles of conditioner and shampoo that sat on a narrow ledge. Not at all useful, I thought. I turned around briskly and saw the woman glaring at me from the threshold. She still held the door wide open.

"What are you doing? Use the toilet already," she said, evidently growing more impatient by the minute. I hesitantly glanced to the toilet. It wasn't like I needed to actually go, but the principle of privacy still held. Not to mention, I needed to try to form a plan to get the security card without the woman noticing. The whole thing would be impossible with her present, scrutinising my every movement.

"I can't go with you watching," I confessed. She gave me a look that said that I was acting absurdly, but from the red cheeks on her face, I realized she was also embarrassed with my claim. So she gave me a wagging finger and closed the door behind her. I acted quickly.

I ran to the basin and brought my fingers across the plastic mirror. As suspected, it was as hopeless to use as an attacking weapon as it would be to fix your hair up in the morning—not doubt it's original purpose. I scowled and glanced around. Running to the shower, I pushed away the curtain and looked inside. Empty, as I said before, except for the bottles of hair treatment. Scowling again, I turned around listlessly, waiting for an amazing idea to pop into my head.

Just how do I get to the security card!?

"Sydney?" the woman rapped three times on the door. I flinched. "Sydney, are you done yet?"

I didn't reply in fear that my voice might quiver. This was my only chance. She wouldn't let me come to bathroom again in a situation like this once she discovers I don't actually have any 'truth' to spare.

A knock echoed again.

"Sydney?"

I gulped.

Come on, come on! Think of something, Sydney. You're smart. You're resourceful!

Well, I'm also butt naked under my gown.

"I'm coming in."

I took little steps—shuffles really—as the bathroom door clicked and began to open slowly. I glanced around in panic. My back pressed against the bathroom basin, and as the door spun open, I clutched onto the sink as a last minute resort before I gave up. This couldn't be happening. My hand touched something cold. Looking down, I saw the hairdryer. Before I could completely understand the severity of my next few thoughts, I picked up the hairdryer with a firm grip, and when the woman strode in, I brought my arms around and made contact with the side of her forehead.

She collapsed to the ground in the same moment I let the hairdryer go. I glanced to the widely open bathroom door and saw the exit opposite. A little blinking light of red flashed near the door handle, and seeing the electronic lock jolted me into escape mode. I searched the woman's unconscious body and found her security card in the inside of her jacket's lining. I ran my eyes over it briefly.

"Sorry, Paige," I whispered. Then picking myself up, I closed the bathroom door and locked it with the security card. I slid the card down across the lock that was attached to the second door. As it clicked and I swung it open, I saw three more narrow corridors, each leading in a different direction. Suddenly, this whole place looked like an office labyrinth. Cheesy Christmas carols blasted down the eerie halls. Holding the security card firmly, I started down the middle corridor.

I passed plenty of other identical doors, most which I guessed led to a prison room much like my own. I began to wonder just where the Hell I was. An ominous feeling began to crawl over my bare skin as I turned and twisted around corners, looking for a green flashing 'EXIT' sign, or something familiar. It was only about three minutes into running around that a little buzzing thingamabob caught my eye in the very top corner of the corridor ceiling. By now, I was well and truly far from the door I had come through (I assumed), but the security camera turning around slowly to zoom up on me was the worst thing I could imagine. Of course the Alchemists would have placed security cameras in a prison! After noticing the one, I began to notice the trillion others I passed as I rounded corners. And not long after that, a siren was sent through the maze—the type that alerted you to an escapee Alchemist i.e. me.

I picked up my feet.

"Alert! Alert!"

The siren blared, drowning out the carols. Weirdly enough, I felt the presence of others running through these corridors along with me, only, I never saw or heard any of them. I just knew that there were Alchemists after me.

At last, the running began to have a nasty affect on me (I was never the athlete). My breath became heavy and my feet began to lag. As I rounded the next corner, deciding this time to take a left, I bumped into a figure and stumbled on my feet. Cold hands wrapped around my waist in enough time to catch me before I fell to the ground, and as I tried to clear the fogginess in my vision, an image of a man—albeit a very pale one—came into focus. Green, peculiar eyes settled in on my dishevelled appearance, and suddenly, I found enough vigour to blush.

The man spoke.

"Sydney?"

I flinched at his voice ... that familiar voice ...

I straightened myself and pushed away from the man, strength suddenly coming back to me. After running my eyes over his unkempt hair, 5 o'clock shadow and his unruly excuse of an outfit, things slowly came back to me. Like who this person was. I knew him. Only, I couldn't figure out why in the world he would be here.

"Adrian Ivashkov?"

Adrian's eyes studied me for another moment before something in his expression fell and morphed into a look of forced sarcasm. He shot me a whimsical grin and motioned around him casually.

"Who else?"

With sirens blaring, Christmas carols playing softly in the background, and an eerie sense that there were people after you not far behind, you kind of forget everything you know in keeping up an entertaining conversation. After glancing around me once, I knew I didn't have time to interrogate Adrian. So grabbing his arm, my fingers lacing around his cold skin, I pulled him along with me as I came around a corner and barely managed to mutter, "We'll talk later," when someone took a step in my path.

Another man, at least a head taller than myself and with black hair and blue calculative eyes, gave me a wide smile and pulled me into his arms. As he hugged me tightly, his cheek falling onto the top of my head, my body went rigid with fear and confusion and my arms laid limply by my both sides. When he pulled back, he said, "It's great to see you at last!", and continued to beam at me until a moment of awkward silence passed (or at least, as much silence that was possible considering the tyranny of noise which was still carried through the halls). Adrian pulled me back a little, thankfully, and sighed.

"Keanu, did you get what I asked you to?"

I looked between Adrian and Keanu. The two seemed near the same age, and oddly enough, looked like they worked together well. They were similar in personality, but different enough that you wouldn't mistake either of them as each other.

Keanu's beam of a smile dimmed slightly as he revealed a little backpack full of many items, some I recognised, and others I didn't. Adrian seemed relieved.

"Good. Then we should probably get going, right, Sage?" Adrian looked to me expectantly. "Say, would you know where the exit would be for this place?"

I glanced between Adrian and Keanu dumbfounded. Then slowly, after realizing that they were dead serious, I answered: "N-no ... I was kind of hoping ..." In actuality, the moment I ran into Adrian, I was hoping he'd be able to take control from here on. Keanu laughed and clapped Adrian on the back.

"Oh, don't go placing your hopes on him, Sydney. You know how clueless Adrian can be at times."

Adrian turned around in an instant and shot glaring eyes at Keanu, who suddenly went still and bit on his lip. Looking at the two, I frowned.

"Wait, what? How would I know—"

"There you are!"

Someone who I knew for sure I had never met came running down the corridor we were standing idly in. This man wasn't as pale or tall as Keanu or Adrian, but he did withhold an air of allure to him. The first thing that caught my attention was his blue eyes. They were so vibrant and pulsating, that I reckoned I could have lost myself in them. But regrettably, I found myself studying him on a larger scale. Like the neat and crisp clothes he wore. That roughish handsome look he had—you know, the type where if you chuck him in a baseball hat and a long coat, he'd look like a fine-looking male model. The straight blond hair that brushed his broad shoulders, and the slight incline of his lip which made a few dimples appear further supported my male model theory. Oh, and not to mention the blue tattoo on the side of his cheek.

My eyes lingered on the tattoo the longest. Something familiar turned in my head. I had seen that tattoo somewhere before—and it wasn't because it looked eerily similar to the Alchemist tattoo that I had of my own—but because that indigo colour which washed out the gold beneath it was definitely something I'd seen before. Just where, I couldn't tell.

Before I could question, or even muster a word to the stranger, Adrian caught me by the elbow and pulled me forward. Slowly, over the blare of the sirens and Christmas carols, a catastrophic symphony of footsteps came down the hall. Adrian flashed me a million dollar grin with an edge of danger in his eyes.

"Time to run," he said. Then, looking to the stranger, he nudged his head forward. "I assume you can lead us out of this hellhole, Marcus?"

Marcus chuckled.

"Practically know it like the back of my hand."