The Thing That Turns Heads Chapter 20, a pretender fanfic

Corollary to Johnson's Third Law: All of your friends either missed it, lost it or threw it out.

1...2...3rd step, turn... 1...2...3rd step, turn...

Riley paced around the small area of her room, feverishly going back and forth from her bed to the desk. It was three steps in either direction, four if her strides were smaller. Riley laced her fingers behind her head, attempting to clear her turbulent mind with deep breaths but she couldn't seem to relax. Her whole body was a bundle of nervous energy and adrenalin. She closed her eyes tightly in frustration before spinning around on her heel and snatching up the green notebook on her desk and the pencil that rested next to it. Flopping back distractedly onto her bed Riley flipped to the first page, blowing off the dust she found inside. She had resolved never to use these books again after finding that they were regularly checked for recent installments. These updates were then read by whoever wanted to. Ever since she had given up writing in it, the same book had lain neglected on the left corner of the desk. Sometimes a brave cleaner would move it to the center in hopes she would notice and decide to make use of it again, but this had never motivated her to begin penning her private thoughts onto its pages. Until today. Riley needed a release and only this would volunteer itself in the barren room.

She began writing, she wasn't really sure what, only whatever came to mind at the moment. She was practicing a technique she had been taught a long time ago when she was only first learning to exercise strict control over her emotions. She scribbled furiously along the page and as a small amount of time passed her writing became more erratic and she fell deeper into the trance the rhythmic motion of her hand moving across the page had put her into. It was only the sweeper outside her door performing his regular check on her that distracted her from the feverish scribbling and flung her from the self-induced state of being between consciousness and sleep. Her head snapped up and she blinked owlishly in the bright flashlight beam that he was directing into her eyes. His light disappeared seconds later and Riley stared at the page in her notebook until the multi- colored lights dancing in front of her eyes disappeared, slowly revealing what she had written.

Five pages front and back, had been covered with her untidy scrawl. The first page was seemingly covered in gibberish, the words relating nothing of real importance. Finally the stinted blend began to meld into something which Riley viewed with much more seriousness. Riley stared in shock at her script, her eyes scanning over the same word written over and over again.

Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.Hate. Hate.Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate Hate. Hate. Hate .Hate. Hate.Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.Hate. Hate. Hate.Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate. Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate.Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.

Riley threw the book away from her with shaking hands, scrambling hurriedly backwards on the bed grimacing at the words her subconscious had written. A crackling sounded through the speaker box set on the wall above her desk and stole her attention from the notebook now lying on the floor.

"The lights are out kid. You should be sleeping." A voice spoke in an androgynous monotone which revealed nothing about its originator. The already dimmed lights in the room were doused entirely and Riley glared up at the device. She reached down to the floor and hesitantly picked up the notebook, as though afraid it would bite her, stashing it beneath her mattress as Mr. Raines threat from earlier that day reverberated around her mind.

"What if I can't control my anger?"

"...You'll suffer my... displeasure."

His displeasure was the last thing she wanted to deal with at the moment and so she had no plans of leaving the book lying out in the open. She hoped there might be some place to get rid of it permanently before anyone found it and divulged its contents. Riley flopped onto her back as per the voices' bidding, staring at the concrete ceiling above her and forcing her eyes to forget the image of the pages of the notebook. It felt like the word had been carved into her brain with a scalpel and the image of it didn't leave her until she fell into a fitful sleep shortly after.

Parker turned the black boxer into her driveway, the crunching of gravel meeting her ears and the car giving a small shudder as it was parked. She stepped from the vehicle, rubbing her hands up her arms against the chill in the air. The sun had not yet set on the crisp fall day, but it seemed unable to bring any warmth to the Earth. She had left the Centre early today, hoping to have a long weekend. Though she doubted this would occur, as part of her also hoped to hear of a disturbance at the Centre that included one very annoying rat. She slammed the door of her car hurriedly, thinking of the time she would have to spend finding all of the Centre bugs in her house; she knew that they were regularly replaced each week by a group of technicians, though she had never met them face to face. She always found each and every bug within hours of their placement. No one had yet had the balls to complain about their removal, and were someone to grow a backbone, Parker planned on growling out a retort containing something along the lines of 'Why the hell were they in my house in the first place?' Walking up the front steps however her mind was drawn to observe something else. A small light was moving under the closed blinds of the living room. It trailed along sloppily before disappearing as it moved onto another room in the house. Parker cautiously removed her gun from its purchase in the small of her back, and checked the front door. It was unlocked and Parker grabbed the handle, skillfully turning it and opening the door slowly, trying to discourage the loud creaking the old aperture had a habit of making when moved. Parker walked into the entryway, slipping out of her stilettos, effectively silencing their loud clicking. She approached the room she had last seen the beam of light in and stepped into the doorway, catching the man with his back turned to her, she cocked the 9mm audibly, pointing it directly out in front of her.

"Freeze scumbag or I'll be forced to spend the rest of the day cleaning grey matter off the walls."

The man visibly tensed before her, his flashlight beam freezing on the mirror resting above the mantelpiece. Parker's gaze shifted from the man as her eye caught on a movement behind her, a dark figure standing just over her left shoulder. Her eyes widened in surprise as a wet cloth was placed abruptly over her nose and mouth. Her movements felt sluggish as her mind slowly shut down, her eyes closing as though they had weights attached to them. Then everything was darkness.

Blue eyes. Vibrant. Very bright blue eyes were staring at her, into her in fact, as though searching for something. Riley recognized those eyes, though she couldn't place from where. They were slowly fading, disappearing rapidly like water spilling from cupped hands, and she grasped at the failing images like a drowning person to a life preserver.

Riley sat up on the edge of her bed, the heels of her palms pressed into her eyes, causing the neon afterglow of images to flare behind her retinas. She searched her mind, trying to recall the dream she had woken up with mere seconds ago. It was different from most of her dreams, the color had been startling, and words had been spoken to her by a disembodied voice, which she could only presume was the owner of the eyes. What had it said? It had seemed so important, so very important that she listened and understood. What was it?

"Trust. Something about trust..." Riley wrinkled her nose in confusion and let up on the pressure she was applying to her eyes, giving up. The memory of the dream had slowly disintegrated, leaving her with nothing but a hollow feeling which she couldn't explain. Riley ran her hand through her hair in frustration, causing the tangled brown locks to stick up on end in certain places. Something had been off about that dream. The eyes, the voice, the urgent need, it all seemed familiar, so incredibly familiar, as though she had known them all her life.

Riley looked dispiritedly around the darkened room, hoping for inspiration. Her eyes alighted on a thick psychology text, one which Mr. Raines had given her. It had been placed in her room soon after her arrival in the Centre, a familiar object in a veritable sea of change. The cover was bright blue.

eyes...

The word flashed across her mind and soon after Riley had crossed the space in a long stride and snatched up the text, flipping it open to a highlighted section, the corners long worn old with use. She fingered the page, skimming the information, and paused above an innocent looking passage, the content of which was regaling the reader of the virtues of motive. There couldn't be a crime without it.

motive...

"Focus Riley. We know that he committed the crime. We need you to find out why."

Mr. Lyle was pacing around her in the SIM lab, back at the facility. Riley was nervous, not scared she told herself forcefully- she wasn't scared, she was nervous. Mr. Raines was watching her pretend from up on a platform above them, she didn't want to get into trouble with him. Riley turned her attentions back to Mr. Lyle and the simulation laid out before her. She worked through the evidence in her mind, going over each step of the murder, the man's testimony, the relations between victim and killer, but no matter how she looked at it, one factor was always missing. Something was wrong.

"I-I don't know why he murdered her sir." Riley said timidly, her eyes flickering to Mr. Raines darkened form above her.

"Failure isn't an option Riley." Mr. Lyle gave her a stern look and Riley dropped her eyes guiltily to the floor. "You need to find out his reasoning. You aren't trying hard enough."

Riley wanted to protest that she was trying. She was trying really really hard, but she knew it would only get her into more trouble. She dutifully began sifting once again through the physical evidence on the table as well as the mental checklist she had been keeping tabs on in her mind. But no matter what she did, she always reached an obstacle. It didn't make sense.

"Riley, we are running out of time." Riley looked up at Mr. Lyle. The reproaching look had not lessened at all during the time that she had been working. Riley's spirits withered even further, she didn't like disappointing people, especially not Mr. Lyle and Mr. Raines. She gave a final cursory glance at the table.

"I don't know sir; this whole situation doesn't make sense. There's something missing." Riley told him, trying to keep the distress out of her voice. She just had to make them see that there was nothing she could do. Riley looked up and saw something flash across Mr. Lyle's expression, but it was gone before she could identify what it was.

"Riley, tell me what we know about this case."

Riley let out a small breath of relief, he was going to help her. She wasn't in trouble. "The murder weapon was found on the defendant's property, but it also belonged to him, so it's only natural that his fingerprints are all over it. The man pleaded innocent in court, but then, if he was guilty he wasn't exactly going to just come out and say it. The jury on his original case found him guilty, as did the jury at his appeal. So we know that he's guilty, we just don't know why he committed the murder..." Riley stopped in her analysis as Mr. Lyle gave her an odd look.

"Do we know that Riley? Do we know that he's guilty?"

"Two different juries voted him-"

"Riley, whose judgment do you trust more, that of a group of people whom you've never met before, or your own?" Riley frowned in contemplation of what he was saying. She didn't understand, the information she had been given had told her that he had been the murderer.

"The evidence is all there." She pointed out hesitantly.

"Yes, but you yourself said that there was something missing. That something was wrong. So what do you think now?"

"I think... I don't know what to think."

"Yes Riley, you do. It's a simple question. Did he kill her? Yes or No." Mr. Lyle walked in circles around her as he spoke, his expression was hard and Riley had the sudden feeling of a person being interrogated. "I'll ask again. Are you going to accept the verdict of an odd group of people who are most likely just wishing to get back to their lives and their jobs as fast as they possibly can, or are you going to follow your instincts? You have been inside this man's mind... Now, did he ki-"

"No." Riley looked guiltily at the floor as she realized she had interrupted him, but Mr. Lyle seemed to pay it no mind as he made a motion towards the sweeper at the door and the lights in the room were raised a level as the regular paraphernalia customary of simulations playing along the projector screens snapped off.

"Very good Riley." Mr. Lyle said, crouching down so that he was on eye level with her. "Listen and learn. Sometimes the information we are given is wrong and you must keep that in mind while you're pretending. You must remember to trust your instincts, like you did here, there wasn't a motive. And you know as well as I do that for there to be a crime there must be a motive. There has to be a reason."

Parker came-to slowly, her head foggy and aching, her muscles sore, and worst of all, no recollection of where she was or why. This wasn't her bed, the material was woolen and scratchy; a far cry from the silken sheets which served as her typical sleeping arrangements. The room was too cold as well, as though it were the inside of a cave rather than the Summer Home. She dazedly opened her eyes to the darkness around her to find a concrete room, no bigger than her closet. Granted, her closet was a very nice walk in, but a closet nonetheless. It was windowless and contained one door, the hinges of which seemed to be located on the side facing out from the cell. She wasn't going to assume it had a handle either. A camera was eyeing her from the opposite corner of the room, and it was the small red light in the corner more than anything that convinced her; she was at the Centre.

Lyle walked at a brisk gait down the halls of the Centre. Most of Lyle's instincts, if not all of them, were screaming at him to turn around. There was no chance that he could still catch his flight to Maine, though if he left now he still might be able to steal a seat on the red-eye. He quashed his better judgment however and kept his steps in the direction of his intended destination. This would probably be the first unselfish act he was going to enter into in twenty years at least, he thought, musing inwardly to keep his mind off of the suicide mission he was planning. That's what it seemed to him at least; suicide. Every impulse inside was clambering for him to save his own butt, and not to worry about anyone else's.

It wasn't really unselfish though, was it? He had to admit that. He wasn't coming back just for her. His life was here; his life had been many places before of course, but the Centre was the one place that could raise him up. And he couldn't just give up Riley-- she was an important asset. He'd no sooner give her up than he would a million dollars. She was his ticket to the top. She always had been. And with Raines as her only influence, she might very well be used against him-- Lyle couldn't allow for that. He appeased his uneasy sense of survival with these few facts and hoped his thumb would stop aching. Some people had butterflies or sweaty palms; Lyle had ghost appendages. Karma really was a bitch.

Lyle turned the corner that would lead him to Raines' office and nearly bumped into the good doctor himself. Raines looked less than pleased to see him.

Riley inched along the cold steel conduits, creeping slowly to avoid detection. She followed the emotional signals that Angelo had left behind, as distinct as a marked trail. It was as though she could feel the man's presence, she could even tell which gratings in the vents he visited most often. As though she could see a pathway directing her where to go. Riley didn't need blueprints when she had that. She almost had the presence of mind to go back, to just leave things alone, but she knew that she would always wonder if she didn't find out now.

Something was wrong. Riley wasn't sure what it was, though she knew it was there. Thinking it over, Riley wondered why she hadn't come to this conclusion earlier. It always came down to the same question; "Why would Jarod kill Mr. Lyle?" Mr. Raines hadn't given her very much information about what had occurred, hardly more than that it had happened, but Riley had read Jarod's file. She had read it so many times that she could recite it word for word. While Jarod cited grievances against the Centre, he had never gone so far as to harm the people in it. Unless they had left that out of his file of course...

Jarod wasn't a man who killed; he much preferred using his genius to provoke others into making their own mistakes. Jarod wouldn't have a reason to kill, even if he did, he probably wouldn't. There were too many better ways to get rid of Mr. Lyle than by murdering him. Jarod had already enacted several. It had of course been left from the file she had received, probably so that her mentor could save face, maybe so that she wouldn't get any ideas, possibly both, but Riley had heard a large enough collection of tales from Dr. Sydney to know that Jarod had a very healthy sense of humor when it came to Centre employees. Shipping Mr. Lyle and Miss Parker to the Centre with nothing but stagnant water and a bag of barbecued grasshoppers for instance. Blowing up Mr. Lyle's car and mailing him the license plate for another. Something terrible had to have happened to make Jarod kill Mr. Lyle, and Riley desperately needed to know what. She had to know what had caused Jarod to kill him; the questions would eat her from the inside out if she didn't find out. The whole matter didn't make sense. Something was missing, they weren't telling her everything, and with this thought in mind, Riley crawled further.

Inside her cell, Miss Parker was raging. Odd that the woman most known for being ice personified now looked as though she could spit fire. The programmers in the tech room had a betting pool, laying stakes on how long it would take her to break down the door. Most of the money was on less than an hour. Another pool was currently being established as to how long it would take for her to kill the guards. The technicians were now clambering to lay their bets in that. It was to this chaotic scene that Broots opened up the door of the tech room. Covering his ears as he walked in and desperately trying not to spill his hot coffee, the bumbling tech made his way to the center of the throng.

"What the- What's going on?" Broots tried to make himself heard over the crowd, but couldn't manage to make his voice cooperate through his confusion.

"Broots!" Two programmers seemed to have heard him though, as they immediately rushed over, announcing his arrival enthusiastically.

"Broots here you are! Been looking all over for you! We figured you'd know best as you've spent the most time with her. I wanted to know your professional opinion, how long do you think it'll take before those guys' entrails are arranged on the outside of their bodies?"

Broots blinked at the young man speaking to him in confusion, pausing to wonder how best he could inquire as to what the hell he was talking about. In the end he settled on those very words.

"Didn't you know?" The man asked in a bewildered tone, pushing some people in front of him aside to make room for Broots. "Have a look." There, on screen, was Miss Parker, looking as though the first person to step into her room would be missing a few vital body parts when they left.

A short while later Broots walked into Sydney's office looking as though he wasn't sure if the world was still round or not.

"Something wrong Broots?" Broots seemed surprised to realize where he had gone, his head popping up comically from where he had been looking at the floor.

"O-Oh Hey Syd. You wouldn't by any chance know where Miss Parker keeps the key to her liquor cabinet would you?"

"Broots, is something wrong?" Sydney asked a little concerned over his strange behavior.

"Well," Broots began, sitting down at a chair in front of Sydney's desk, still staring blankly at his shoes as he gathered his thoughts. "You've got to promise not to tell anyone you heard it from me... this is all pretty hush-hush..." He continued, seeming to come partially out of his former daze. He gave a wry grin, "so, naturally... everyone knows."

The glow of a monitor lit the room as Raines watched the surveillance footage of Miss Parker from his office. He picked up the receiver of his phone from the cradle as he punched in a number, his eyes still regarding the screen. Jarod was sorely mistaken if he thought that only Miss Parker knew the number for his cell. Raines had come across this small, but valuable, bit of information in a secret search of her house, and it had proved to be quite useful on more than one occasion. Cell phones produced a signal whenever they were activated, acting as a perfect tracking device. Jarod was rarely absent minded enough to leave his on for longer than ten minutes at a time, but on those few occasions that he had, the Centre had easily gotten wind of his exact whereabouts. They had managed to surprise him a few times with this knowledge already, though, despite their best efforts, he always got away. Jarod never managed to link these incidences with his phone. A ringing could be heard through the receiver as the phones connected, and then the fuzzy sound of the receiver being held up to a person's ear.

"Hello?" A prolonged pause. "Who is this?"

The voice sounded mildly startled, and more than a little hesitant, as though he didn't get very many calls on this phone. Raines sneered inwardly; he probably hadn't given the number out to anyone aside from Miss Parker. How truly touching.

"Hello Jarod." Raines could hear the man on the other end of the line swear loudly. Surprise, surprise Jarod. "You know you might wish to rid yourself of that habit quickly Jarod. That sort of language won't be tolerated once you're back home." Raines said conversationally, a menacing undercurrent flowing beneath his words.

"And what makes you think you'll bring me in so soon?" Jarod sounded like he was speaking through clenched teeth. On the other end of the line Jarod could feel his heart hammering against his ribs. Somehow Raines had managed to get his cell phone number and it was a sure bet that this wasn't a social call. It felt as though static had filled his ears, what could be going on at the Centre that he hadn't picked up on?

"Oh I'm not going to bring you in Jarod." the smug satisfaction in his voice was clear through the phone line.

"No?" Jarod's anxiety rose at Raines' nonchalant tone.

"No... You are going to do that for me." Raines said, imagining the look on Jarod's face as he listened.

"I am?" Jarod asked skeptically, Raines was making a fool out of himself if he didn't have some sort of back up plan. Then again, Raines was hardly the type to enter into something if he thought it wouldn't work... what was going on back there?

Raines paused before speaking again, choosing his words carefully. "Yes Jarod, You are..."

"And how do you propose to make me do that?" Jarod asked, apprehension setting in though he managed to keep it out of his voice.

Raines didn't offer an answer, instead posing a question towards the wayward pretender. "Would you say you underestimate the lengths the Triumvirate will go to in order to bring you back home Jarod?" He asked quietly, the sound of his ever-heavy breathing filling the line. "The Triumvirate isn't pleased with Miss Parker's performance in bringing you in... it would be horrible if she were to have an 'accident'." Raines trailed off, letting Jarod fill in the blanks.

"What the hell have you done with her?" Jarod ground out on the other end of the line.

"I don't know what we'd do without her..." He continued, "But then, she could be perfectly safe and sound in her own home... it all depends on you Jarod..." The other end of the line was silent and Raines decided to press on, giving him less time to think about it. "And Jarod, in case you're thinking this is a ruse, go ahead and listen for yourself." He said, turning up the volume on the surveillance monitor and holding the phone out to the speaker.

Parker was stalking around the edges of the room like an angry tiger, "Raines you bastard! When I get out of here I'm going to string you up by your intestines and use the rest of you as lawn mulch!"

Raines brought the phone back to his own ear, "It's up to you Jarod, if you aren't here within the next twelve hours, unarmed and willing to work with us, well... I'm sure you can imagine what would happen... and Jarod, remember this- it would be all your fault." Raines hung up on that note, knowing that having that sort of guilt on his chest would drive Jarod insane. Oh yes, their pretender would be back soon.

Will stepped into the house, opening and closing the screen door quietly and slipping out of his muddy football cleats, kicking each of them off with his opposite foot. His blue and white jersey was covered in grass stains and he held his helmet under his arm at his side. Practice had been horrendous today; the coach had finally earned himself the misnomer of "Comrade Stalin", a nickname suggested by Will that everyone had found very funny, even more so in light of the fact that no one thought the coach was bright enough to get the pun. Westlake high wasn't a bad school, and Will was going there for his desperate need for social interaction more than anything. He'd tried looking at colleges first, but when Yale sent him a written reply saying 'We appreciate your enthusiasm, but please contact us again when you have facial hair' he'd decided to go for something a little more low-key. It was either that or search for fake beards. He mulled over the upcoming winter formal as he padded in his socks over to the kitchen, racking his brain for a good way to get a date. No ideas forthcoming he gave up, procrastinating for yet another day as a voice in the back of his head told him the dance was only a week away.

He paused outside the door of the kitchen as he heard the hushed voices of Jarod and his father. He peered around the edge of the doorframe; the two men were sitting at the table whispering in serious tones. Jarod ran his hands through his hair; looking frustrated and his father's tense posture spoke volumes of his anxiety. Will watched for a few more minutes, his legs cramping up in his crouched position, and his ears straining to pick up anything from their conversation. Jarod's cell phone sat on the table between them along with two mugs of coffee, which remained untouched. Will crouched further out of sight as Jarod stood up suddenly from the table, his voice finally reaching a regular level. He took up his jacket from the back of a chair and slid his arms into the sleeves in a hurried manner, straightening out the collar as he began heading for the door with purposeful strides.

"I'm going to get her Dad."

"Jarod you should think about this... it could be a trap." Will watched as his father got up and began walking after Jarod, obviously trying to persuade him out of a much-argued point. "I won't allow you to go into the Centre without a plan."

Will very nearly jumped out of his hiding place at this point. He had known that Jarod would be making an infiltration into the Centre soon, but he had at least expected to be informed of when, he realized now that Jarod had obviously just intended to leave without saying goodbye. And what was this bit about not having a plan?

"We already know it's a trap Dad. My freedom in exchange for hers."

"You aren't planning on doing what he says, are you?" Major Charles asked with a look of anxiety on his face.

"What do you expect Dad? I don't have much of a choice here. Don't worry, if he can play outside the rules, so can I..." Jarod said, sounding stressed. "Look, I'll be fine. I know what I'm doing, I'll think of something."

"And what if something goes wrong Jarod? You need to think this through." Will watched as his Dad persisted, personally agreeing with him. There was no chance that Jarod would ever come out of the Centre unscathed if he didn't go in anticipating the worst.

"I don't have time for a plan. Dad, I know the Centre better than the man who designed it! I've been coming and going out of that place ever since I escaped. They've never managed to catch me before... they won't now." Jarod said, trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince The Major.

"I already need to get Riley out of there, and now they have Parker too! I won't allow Raines to harm her."

Miss Parker? At this statement Will really did leave his hiding place. "I'm going with you." Miss Parker was the only person at The Centre that had ever shown Will any kindness, and he couldn't bear the thought of her being a prisoner there now.

His father gaped in surprise at his sudden appearance. "Will? Where did you come from?"

Jarod turned around, a look of annoyance on his face. "Oh, no you aren't."

"Who are you to dictate where I go? I want to help." Will persisted, following Jarod as he headed out the front door and down the wooden porch steps.

"No! That's final." Jarod said, meaning to end the argument, but Will persisted.

"Jarod, you said so yourself, Raines has her. He's got Miss Parker."

"Exactly, and I won't have him get his hands on you."

"No, you'll just get yourself captured with no one to bail you out! I dealt with Raines for fifteen years! How often did you see him?"

"I don't want you being manhandled by him for another fifteen!"

"But I can help!" Will tried to reason with Jarod.

"I won't need your help!" Jarod said and it was clear that the discussion was closed.

Will had gotten fed up by this point, and he could tell that Jarod had also, and he acted on the first idea that came to mind. He tackled him with all the strength he could muster. Straddling him across his chest, "I'm going." He said simply. "I'm not a child, quit treating me like one."

Jarod pushed himself off the ground despite Will's position on his torso, causing him to topple to the hard earth. "You aren't coming." He said, getting into his car and revving the engine. "I don't care if you don't think you're a child Will, you are whether you like it or not. Savor the experience."

"Savor the experience?" Will repeated incredulously, "I get treated like an adult by them my entire life and the one time that I want to be one you act as though I'm a good for nothing five year old! Let me come."

"No." Jarod slammed the door forcefully and sped from the driveway, leaving a frustrated Will watching the car disappear from view.

Will pushed himself off his butt and stared disbelievingly after the trail of kicked up dust in the road. "You Stupid! Annoying! Egotistical! Stubborn! Mule! You're gonna get yourself killed!" he shouted to the empty air.

Riley paused before a vent, blowing off years of dust and swiping at the grit with her fingers so she could see. She rubbed at the dirt stinging her eyes and tried to dispel a threatening need to sneeze. Peering cautiously through the now clear grate she began working on the opening, fumbling with the catches on the corners. A small noise of an unlocking door alerted her to the danger of going into the room and she hurriedly stumbled through the process of getting the vent reattached, suddenly relieved that she had only managed to get the bottom two clasps open. She managed to close the vent just in time as the door was opened and she crawled into a more comfortable position to watch from. Two figures walked into the darkened office, one whom she could identify as Mr. Raines, his ever present oxygen tank giving him away easily. The other person she couldn't recognize however, as he didn't seem to have any insignia to give him away. Both men were shadows in the room until Mr. Raines reached for a light switch, disappearing momentarily from her view, as the grating of the vent didn't allow her to see into the corners of the room. The lights came on in the office and suddenly Riley could recognize easily the light brown hair and coolly confident manner of the one man she never expected to see again. That man was indisputably Mr. Lyle, and he was very much alive. Riley very nearly burst through the vent cover then, though she stopped herself at the very last moment. Her heart was beating out an erratic tattoo in her chest and she swore that the two men would hear it at any moment. She shuffled closer to the grate, afraid to miss a single moment. Mr. Lyle and Mr. Raines were arguing, something which she could never remember them doing before, at least, not in front of her. She realized now that there were probably a lot of things that they had kept from her.

"You are supposed to be in Maine..." Mr. Raines was saying. Riley's brows furrowed in confusion at that, Maine? Why would he be in Maine? Why hadn't he been here in the first place? She wondered to herself, agonizing in the thought that Mr. Lyle had chosen to leave after all. His 'death' was just an excuse.

"Change of plans. I demand to be placed back on the project." Mr. Lyle said, his tone more serious than she could recall in recent memory. The easy confidence and casual air missing in his demeanor made his words feel wrong, as though he wasn't the man speaking them.

"You are in a precarious position to be demanding anything." Mr. Raines reminded him. "I knew there was too much emotional attachment between you two..." He said, taking a step forward, and Riley felt an odd pride in knowing that Mr. Lyle did not move back. "If I didn't know any better... Bobby... I'd say you were going soft." Riley could feel Mr. Lyle's anger escalate slightly at that remark, though he did a good job of hiding it. "I daresay I don't need to remind you what happened to the last person to become too involved in this project... I doubt you'd forget that. It would be a shame to have to take such measures again." Mr. Raines ground out, opening the door to the office in a gesture that said in no uncertain terms 'get out.' Mr. Lyle walked through the portal without further comment, looking as though it were costing him all of his strength not to do something he'd end up regretting. Riley crawled back to her space after that, not really thinking about where she was headed. A spark of rage grew inside of her as she moved along, indignity that they hadn't told her. She had been led to believe that this entire time Mr. Lyle had been dead. Mr. Raines had lied to her about the only thing that had ever mattered! Riley slipped out of the grate to her room quietly, agitatedly beginning to pace around once more. She had to keep control- she had to. She had been betrayed, again. The pain of that betrayal was fierce, and it grew inside her chest, like an iron hand squeezing her heart. Her throat was tight and constricted, she felt like she couldn't even breathe now. Riley closed her eyes, hearing Mr. Raines words from that afternoon.

Take the pain and turn it into something you can use.

She was loath to do anything he had directed her to at the moment out of pure spite, but an unreasonable fear of not following his orders won out. If she did nothing Riley knew that she would end up crying, an action which she would not allow of herself.

Turn your pain into anger Riley.

"She's just gone berserk sir. We didn't know what to do." The sweeper explained as Mr. Raines squeaked along down the sublevel corridor. The sounds of a commotion could be heard as they approached and words soon became recognizable, interspersed with various shouts from sweepers and the occasional dismantling of furniture.

"I want to see Mr. Lyle!... Get off... I want to see him! You can't just keep him from me! I know he's here! ... Let me go!... I'm not just going to sit by this time! I won't! ...I want to see Mr. Lyle!..."

Raines quickened his pace as much as his lungs would allow and strode quickly to the cell from which the noise was emanating. He checked himself at the door and feasted his eyes on the wreckage within. Riley's desk chair lay at an awkward angle on the floor, one of the legs broken off. The steel door was peppered with several small dents and the security camera in the corner of the room was shattered. In the center of it all were several black suited men trying desperately to mollify the rampaging teenager in their midst. She was swinging the broken chair leg like a bat.

Two sweepers were caught in a futile attempt to pin the girl to the ground and Willie stood some safe distance away, trying to pacify her; Gar was trying to get a free shot at her hands with a pair of handcuffs, but was rewarded for his efforts as she kicked him in the groin. The man doubled over in pain and viciously tried to retaliate, but Riley saw the blow coming and managed to squirm away from the sweeper latched onto her arm. She ducked quickly, his fist catching the air mere centimeters from her head. Of course, she had good practice at anticipating blows.

No one seemed to notice Raines' presence at the door, busy as they all were, which gave him ample time to assess the situation. Raines had always known that were Riley to have a fit such as this one, sweepers would have a rough time trying to get her under control. It seemed strange that such a small girl could best three men many times her size, but Raines felt he really should not be surprised by that after all. Riley had been honed over the years into a killing machine, and with the extra rage given to her only recently she could easily become an unstoppable force. Riley had been stubborn from childhood, and no amount of physical repercussion could force the habit out of her. Eventually Raines had submitted and chosen to modify this character flaw into something they could use rather than eradicate it completely. He realized now that it was a mistake on his part, for that stubbornness was showing itself here in her refusal to submit.

The sweepers were not actually helping matters. The room was so small, they were only getting in each other's ways-- a fact Riley tactically was using against them. She swung the chair leg at one of the men, hitting him full in the chest, toppling him over onto Gar. Willie seemed to be the person in charge as he shouted in response to the latest attack in the room, directing his inferior "Get out Gar! You're only making this worse!" He turned again to the girl, who was struggling in the grasp of a sweeper who had finally managed to detain her for longer than five seconds, attempting to get her to stop fighting with them.

"Riley calm down! Stop struggling dammit! You're only getting yourself into trou-" He was cut off however as Riley, using her capture by one of the guards to her advantage, lifted both feet from the floor and delivered a punishing double-footed kick to his chest. Raines decided to interfere at this point and stepped into the room and directly into Riley's field of vision. The girl froze, her chest heaving, and ceased struggling with the gigantic man behind her, who had finally managed to pin her arms behind her. Fury clashed with terror in her eyes as she glared at him. Her gaze dropped however after a few intense moments, and she resignedly went limp in the arms of the sweeper. Raines paused, taking a few slow steps closer to his charge, and after a few painfully tense minutes, he directed the sweeper to release her. Raines ordered the guards to leave with a sweep of his hand and looked the pretender over with a scrutinizing gaze. No harsh words were spoken, no punishing blows given out; Raines merely looked the girl over and turned on his heel, stopping next to the sweeper outside the door.

"I want her taken to the renewal wing."

Riley's head shot up in horror as she was pushed into the custody of a waiting sweeper, who began to direct her down the hall, his hand encircling the back of her neck. Mr. Raines following like a squeaky shadow just behind her left elbow. It seemed like a thousand steps later that they reached the renewal wing. The sterile smell of disinfectant causing her nose and eyes to itch. They reached the outside of the door and the sweeper began plugging in the code, somehow managing to keep a firm grip on her upper arm and still not allowing her to see the combination to the room. Riley shot a hate filled glare in Mr. Raines direction as she waited for the door to open.

"I won't lose my memories again." Riley told him quietly in a pseudo-calm voice. "I won't let you take them."

Raines wheeled over to her slowly, his every gesture screaming of control. "You say that as though you have a choice in the matter."

"You said yourself that I should always have control of a situation." She said calmly, throwing his words back in his face.

"I think that you need to be reminded of your place... in the scheme of things around here Riley." He spoke in a low hiss, subtle, angry, undertones present in his words. "I am in charge... I can do whatever I want... whenever I want... and to whomever I want... And there is nothing that you will ever do about that. You are under my control Riley... you always will be. And should you ever do anything like this again... you will find that there are far worse places to be sent than the renewal wing. Places that make this seem like the very epitome of warm and welcoming. There will be changes made around here... and if you wish to keep living the pampered lifestyle which you currently take for granted... this attitude of yours will be one of the first. I will not tolerate disrespect from you Riley. Not towards the Centre, not towards employees, and most certainly not towards myself...You are the property of the Centre, here to serve- Am I making myself perfectly clear?"

The question didn't seem to require a response to Riley, as it really left no room for interpretation. But Mr. Raines didn't seem to see it that way as he slapped her roughly across the face, demanding an answer.

"Yessir." Riley mumbled, the words leaving a foul taste in her mouth, more pungent than the blood spilling in from her split lip.

"What?" Raines asked menacingly.

"I said, Yes Sir." She answered, her tone bordering on mocking.

"No then, if you had understood we wouldn't still be having this discussion. I've warned you, if that attitude you've acquired doesn't change fast... there will be consequences." He left the idea of what those consequences would be up to her vivid imagination and turned his attention back to the sweeper. "Take her away..." The sweeper nodded once in assent and Riley found herself being dragged at a fast clip by her upper arm into what had always held the position in her mind as a quite personal hell.

Jarod clicked off the flashlight in his hand and unlatched the vent cover, working to remove it noiselessly. He brought it back into the steel conduit next to him and set it down gently to stop it from clattering. He hoisted himself through the hole in the ceiling and dropped quietly to the floor.

"Took you long enough to get here." Miss Parker spoke in an annoyed tone from behind him.

Jarod had expected to find her in this room, but he nearly jumped out of his skin at being addressed so suddenly despite this, his nerves ready to snap he was so tense. Jarod only appeared as the coolly confident persona he always was though, creeping over to the barred off section of the room that contained the woman he had come searching for.

"Excuse the lateness Ma'am, this rescue will come free of charge and here's a coupon for the next time you use this service." He whispered jokingly as he began picking the lock on the metal-barred door. The room seemed to be divided in half, part of it sanctioned off into a cell with all the normal amenities and the other a blank observation area with a chair shoved into the corner. The vent he had dropped through was the only one in the room and it was located outside the barred off area. The door leading out into the corridor was directly opposite the cell door, and had a horizontal slit running its width like the one from his childhood bedroom. Jarod's nerves peaked as he hoped no one would look through the door too soon. He felt the first tumbler slip into place in the lock and began to work on the second. One by one the pins in the lock lined up and he allowed himself a small grin as the lock clicked.

Jarod squinted his eyes closed as the lights in the room flared up, blinding him momentarily. He heard the door behind him open and tried to turn around to face whoever had entered but was set upon before he could even gain his footing. Pain exploded behind his eyes as he was picked up bodily and rammed into the bars of the cell. He lost his footing dizzily and clung onto the vertical rods with one hand, trying to remain standing. Jarod pistoned his other arm back and elbowed the man holding him in the face. He collapsed slightly as the sweeper let go of him, deprived of the man's support, but another soon took his place. His shoulder wrenched painfully as Jarod's arm was pulled behind him. The sweeper pinned him to the ground as another man forced a constricting black hood over his head, pulling the knot closed tightly around his throat so that it pushed against his airways. Jarod growled in frustration as he felt his hands cuffed behind him, the restraints so tight that they cut into his wrists. He squirmed against the hands holding him down, rolling onto his back and kicking out blindly, he felt his foot glance off a man's shoulder and the sweeper topple backwards. Hands grabbed his arms, yanking painfully on his bound wrists, and propelled him forwards. Jarod flinched as he prepared for contact with what he was sure was a wall, but instead he was pushed into a different space. The cell door swung shut with a creaking sound and the sweepers quite literally lifted him from the floor and threw him onto a raised platform. Jarod struggled madly as hands stifled his efforts and pinned him on his back atop what felt like a camping bed. His arms were twisted painfully as the handcuffs themselves were chained to the metal frame of the cot. Someone pushed on his chest, forcing him further down into the thin mattress and Jarod's back arched as his fists dug into his spine. He felt fetters placed around his ankles and redoubled his grappling against them as his feet were restrained to the end of the bunk. Finally the hands released him and he heard the door of the cell squeak open and then closed, the keys grating in the lock in a hauntingly familiar manner.

Parker watched from behind the bars of the cell as Jarod picked the lock. Silently urging him to go faster. In her searching of the room she had found more cameras than the simple one in the corner of the ceiling. And while this one seemed to be connected to the main system, the others weren't. When she had seen the main camera's indicator light flicker off and on she had checked the others. None of them seemed to be affected. Jarod thought that he had turned the cameras off but he hadn't... Not all of them... Parker knew better than to distract him by saying so though, his reaction wouldn't be a good one and would probably waste even more precious time.

Parker shielded her eyes with her hand as the florescent lights in the ceiling activated suddenly. Temporarily blinding both inhabitants in the room. She heard the sounds of a struggle before she could see it. Sweepers had swarmed the room, attacking Jarod without warning. An all-out brawl ensued on the other side of the bars, the guards trying desperately to subdue the pretender among them, who happened to be fighting back as though it were the last thing he would ever do.

A sweeper opened the door of the cell, seeming a little flustered when he put the key in the lock and it turned out Jarod had already managed to unlock it... guess that wasn't part of the plan. He pulled open the door and ushered Parker out of the cell as several others dragged a kicking Jarod in. Parker went willingly, knowing that if she were to remain in a position where she could help him, she would need to refrain from voicing her protests. The sweeper escorted her out the door, but went back inside without making sure that she had truly left. Where had training gone to these days? She wondered idly. She waited as she saw Raines wheeling his emphazemic ass up the corridor towards her and the room containing Jarod, a look of absolute smugness plastered on his face. Parker stepped away from the wall, moving into his path.

"You used me as bait..." She said by way of starting a conversation, keeping her tone non-accusatory, though the words spoke for themselves.

"I don't care if you don't like the idea... it worked... unlike some other plans..."

Parker ignored the sleight on her skills as a huntress. "Actually, I think it was rather ingenious..." She said. Amusing herself while watching Raines' face register surprise that she seemed to agree with him. "It can't have been your idea." And the surprised look was gone, replaced by a trace of annoyance. "In fact," Parker continued, "I'd just love to go have a talk with the little enigma that thought this one up about how we do things around here... you wouldn't know where I could find her would you?"

Raines remained silent and Parker decided to give him one last parting shot as she turned and walked down the hall. "You know, if Jarod doesn't deck you in there he's a got a lot more restraint than I do." Parker stopped and looked over her shoulder once she reached the end of the hallway, watching Raines as he stepped into the room.

A sweeper walked up to her, handing her back her suit jacket, which had been missing upon her arrival in the room. She snatched it from his grasp and swung it around her shoulders, digging into her pockets in search of a cigarette. She stuck one between her lips upon finding it and lit up, taking a slow drag to calm her nerves. She blew the smoke out, holding the smoldering cancer stick between two fingers.

"This day has gone to hell in a handbag..."

Jarod's chest heaved up and down as moisture collected around his mouth and nose and the cloth hood was drawn into his face with each breath. Fear gnawed at his mind as long felt terror and old memories reawakened inside him. His mind raced for escape routes as panic set in. He couldn't breathe; the hood was smothering him, so tight around his throat that he couldn't draw in enough air to support himself.

A clicking footstep echoed around the room and Jarod started in his bonds, he had thought that they had all left. Jarod strained his ears as he tried to follow the sound of the footfalls as they walked closer to him. Another audible click sounded and Jarod could visualize the gun the person was cocking in their hand as they stopped to stand over him on the bed. Jarod set his jaw in anticipation as the barrel of the gun was placed against his knee by the unknown figure. He waited for the person to pull the trigger, growing more and more tense as time passed. He nearly shot out of his skin when the person spoke to him.

"Calm down Jarod... You're going to give yourself a heart attack..." Jarod seemed to try to meld with the bed as he recognized the man speaking to him. "Going into cardiac arrest won't help you to escape... You won't be taken to the infirmary... You aren't going to be leaving this room for quite some time actually... Not until we straighten a few things out with you..."

This didn't bode well with Jarod at all, and he hardly felt any better knowing that he was strapped down in the bondage of the man he readily admitted to be the scariest thing he could think of.

"I'm surprised Jarod, I gave you twelve hours to get back here, and yet you turned up in seven... I would have expected you to savor your last moments of freedom... But I suppose you're smart enough to realize there is no point in delaying the inevitable... Well, you may have gotten here early, but you seem to be disregarding entirely the other part of our deal..." Raines spoke, his voice sending slow chills up and down Jarod's spine. "This room has two locked doors, a sweeper on the inside and the outside, motion detectors in the vents, a fingerprint access panel outside, along with enough cameras to keep every Peeping Tom in the county happy for years. We knew everything you did the instant you arrived to 'rescue' the dear Miss Parker."

Jarod started at the mention of Parker, thinking of the part she had played in this twisted game. Raines seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

"Ah yes Jarod, Miss Parker. I'd hate for you to delude yourself with the idea that she was a victim in all of this. Actually, she approved of the plan... what was the word she called it...? Ah yes, she seemed to think it was 'ingenious'... It seems that you certainly find out who your real friends are Jarod, don't you."

Jarod's heart sank slowly with the weight of this knowledge. How could he have possibly been so stupid! Raines had given him the perfect bait and sat and waited for him to knock over the twig-in-the-box and ensnare himself. It was entirely his fault that he was in this mess. He had underestimated Raines once again... had underestimated Parker as well. But he couldn't have! She wouldn't do that to him! He felt fingers untie the knot around his throat; and a hand grabbed the top of the hood and yanked it off, tugging roughly at his hair. Raines stood above him, looking down on his captive with sickening satisfaction.

"There will be no Sydney, no Miss Parker; every move you make will be scrutinized... I expect obedience out of you Jarod, and whether you think it's beneath you or morally wrong you will show respect to the people around here... And if you fail in that endeavor, there will be consequences." He dug the barrel of the gun further down into Jarod's knee, "I'm sure you can supply for yourself what those consequences will be... You can save yourself a great amount of pain and anguish if you simply agree to cooperate with me right now..."

Jarod glared up at him, producing as much defiance in his face as he could muster. "Go to hell you conniving bastard, I'll never-"

"-You know I would hate to have to force this on you again Jarod..." Raines interrupted him, holding up the black hood in his hand. Jarod tried to keep all emotion out of his face at the threat, but his skin paled slightly despite his best efforts. Raines gave the smallest glimmer of a smile as he noticed Jarod's reaction. "Yes Jarod, that's right, you have weaknesses. We instilled them in you Jarod, I'm certain we can exploit them...No man is unbreakable, and you will never escape... Don't bother thinking about it; the hope will drive you insane..." Raines turned on his heel and exited the cell. A sweeper took up position of inside guard as Raines left, sitting down in the chair Jarod had spotted earlier. Jarod's mind took an evil little twist back to Will's face as Jarod drove off.

"You're gonna get yourself killed!"

Renewal. The mere word sent shivers down her spine, the palms of her hands becoming moist. Renewal- it was a place she had been taught to fear all her life; the ultimate punishment. The Centre was the only place within the entire company where you would find a renewal wing. Every pretender that had ever walked the halls of the Triumvirate headquarters or elsewhere within the system knew about the place, its reputation preceding it across continents. And here she was, for the second time in her life having the dubious privilege of visiting it. Of course, the people running the various stations of the Triumvirate across the globe didn't really need a whole wing dedicated to renewal. The process could virtually be done anywhere, but she supposed that having an entire ward had benefits; undergoing the process within the confines of a regular room was not the same as having it done in the dreaded renewal wing.

Renewal wasn't just a place, it was a process. Rumors of what happened here were notorious, the incredible tales even pervading the corridors of the sublevels; a muttered conversation between sweepers, hurried glances, nerves on edge. The rumors weren't far off, though the process still remained a mystery. Except to Riley.

The rumors said that They could wipe your memory, They drugged you with chemicals designed to alter your mind, They could see your thoughts. It wasn't a chemical. A chemical would be too easy. By the time your stay in the renewal wing was over, you didn't want to remember. It was as though They had created a repressed memory. Trying to remember brought back ghostly images of the renewal wing, so you squeezed your eyes shut tight and prayed for the visions to go away. You didn't try to remember again. Riley supposed the memory never really left, not even the Centre was advanced enough to steal another person's thoughts, but the recollection was blocked, your mind unknowingly barred you from your thoughts as a way of protecting you. Consider it typical that the Centre would use a defense mechanism to break through a person's defenses.

Renewal was a program, specially designed to feed off of your darkest fears, your deepest desires. They broke you down, and then They built you back up in the image They wanted you to be. The scientists meticulously planned each individual procedure, taking pride in how far over they edge they could make people go. No plan was ever the same between any two people but the goal was always loyalty, the first step a breakdown, the second- indoctrination. And Riley's stay here was only just beginning.

Isolation. They took away all stimulation. There wasn't light, sound, smell, touch, and no human contact whatsoever. The worst part of it though- there wasn't a passage of time. A day here felt like a week. Isolation, the first step of her personal program. Riley had been in isolation before, the cells were cramped so tightly that you couldn't stand up or lie down, she was forced to sit in a ball, her knees to her chest and her back to the wall. And Riley was small for her age. The trick was to close your eyes; the darkness wasn't absolute that way. Your eyes were closed; for all you knew there could be light on the other side of your eyelids. The walls weren't moving in and the darkness wasn't absolute. Remember that.

Of course, the staff of the renewal wing could never do anything by halves. Simply placing her in isolation for an indeterminable amount of time to soften her up wasn't nearly enough. Riley had spent most of her spare time trying to forget about her last trip to the Renewal wing, and here they were filtering the sound into the room. She figured there must be a speaker above her on the wall or the ceiling, and had occupied herself for some time by trying to yank the wire out of the box, but she soon found this impossible, as the audio device was set into the wall. The sounds were blaring, grating on her ears painfully. Riley relished this physical pain however, finding it much less tortuous than the psychological invasion it brought along. She clenched her fists at her sides so hard that she could feel her nails digging into the skin of her palms- anything to take her mind off of the sounds going on in her small space, but there was just no way to fortify her mind against the invading noise.

"Please! Let me out of here! Please I'm scared! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I won't do it again! I promise! Please, just let me out of here, please! I'm sorry!"

The high pitched cries were accompanied by small thuds- she had been banging on the door with her fists. The pleading petered out after a while, though the noise the recording made now seemed to her to be far worse. An animalistic sound was being emitted, rising from deep inside her chest; the sobbing of a four year old girl.

The weakest link in a pretenders mind must be the power of suggestibility she thought, the instant someone began telling her about a place, she would find herself there, the sights, the smells, the sounds, no detail was left out. So by no fault of her own she could already feel herself slipping into the skin of that girl from another time and another world, far away from her own thoughts and yet so very close.

"Somebody help me! Please! I'm sorry! I'll never do it again! Please!" I didn't mean to be bad... I didn't... I'm sorry...I wasn't thinking... I was just...I missed Sarah...

Riley struggled to detach her mind from the SIM. Part of her had naively thought that she had forgotten the misery behind these thoughts and left them behind her, but they made their presence known again now as they spun around her head, floating through the dark corners of her mind. The pain sliced through her, cutting deep into her soul. The continued sounds from the player pushed against her conscious and she stumbled back into the mindset of a child that couldn't understand why these things were happening to her.

I miss her... she gone...she's gone because of Them.

Some part of Riley's mind still conscious to where she really was noticed now that the feelings of sorrow were slowly being replaced with anger as she thought about Sarah. Whatever feelings of regret for running away she had had were now only turning into regret for being caught.

They stole her...they killed her! She could see it happening again in her minds eye, the towering figures with blank expressions that were oblivious to her pain.

"NOOOOO!" Riley sprang from the pretend abruptly, standing up and instantly regretting it as she hit her head on the low ceiling. Her eyes snapped open and she had to remind herself to breathe as she took in the darkness pressing in on her, her hands frantically testing the perimeter of her confinement. Her hands met with rough stone walls, so close in on her that it was impossible to spread her arms by more than two feet. Her breathing came in shallow gasps, her mind fighting against images that she could only remember from her dreams. Dark figures, blood everywhere, Mr. Raines... and... and Mr. Lyle. Sarah... with a bullet in her forehead, They had killed her.

"No. No, they said... they said she was moved to a different project. Breathe Riley, she isn't dead. She isn't dead!" Riley tried to reason with herself. But her every instinct was fighting against her. The dreams, she had had them for as long as she could remember. Mr. Lyle wouldn't do something like that! ...Would he? "Breathe, just relax. It isn't true. It can't be true. I'd remember something like that. That isn't real! Mr. Raines wouldn't lie to me about something like that... he wouldn't... He said I could trust him... I can trust the Centre... Mr. Raines wouldn't lie about something like that..."

He lied about Mr. Lyle

Riley collapsed against the wall of the cell, pounding her fists into the cinderblock walls in frustration. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, and she wiped them away furiously. Telling her that Mr. Lyle was dead had to be the cruelest thing of all the cruelties she had ever endured around this place. For so long Mr. Lyle had been her only human contact, the single difference between isolation and being totally alone. But still she couldn't entirely begrudge Mr. Raines for it. Her caretakers had always had her best interests at heart. For so long she had hated this answer to her questions of "Why?" It was always the same "It's for your own good." But how could she be mad at someone for looking after her? Mr. Raines could be protecting her from another one those things she wasn't supposed to know. But it was still frustrating not knowing. Wetness once again pricked at her eyes and she shoved the heels of her fists into them, watching the neon-like color display flash behind here lids.

"Tears are weakness Riley... I don't ever want to see you cry."

"You belong here Riley. This is your home."

"The world is dangerous Riley. We will never hurt you here. You are safe with us."

Still she couldn't quite forget...

He lied about Mr. Lyle

Riley folded in on herself in the small space, her head cradled on her arms and her body wracking with suppressed sobs. "You told me I could trust you..."

Could I trust him about Mr. Lyle?

"You Liar!" Riley jumped to her feet, remembering to duck low enough that her head wouldn't hit the roof of the space. Rage was coursing through her body like poison, faster and further than she could have previously imagined. "You told me I could trust you! You lied!" She threw herself at the metal doorway, causing it to shudder in its hinges. "You killed her! You killed her in front of me! I remember!" She flung herself at the doorway again, part of her wanting to vent the anger, the fury, at what she had been led to believe, and part of her wanting to draw attention from whoever might be listening on the other side. "You told me she was transferred! You let me believe it was my fault, but you killed her! You stole the only two people that ever meant anything!" Riley yelled at the top of her lungs, her hands banging of their own accord against the door of the solitary cell, ducked low enough into a crouch that she wasn't in danger of hitting her head against the ceiling of the cell as she lunged forwards.

A few rooms away Raines was watching her on a video monitor.

"You said she wouldn't remember." He hissed accusingly at the Doctor standing next to him, who flinched slightly in fear.

"A...A minor inconvenience...we can... we can fix-"

"You will fix it... Now."

"Yes, Yes of course. Right away." The doctor said, turning around to look for someone to pass the bad temper of his boss onto. "You there!" He yelled at an orderly passing by the room. "Get the girl out now!"

"Right away sir." The orderly responded, dashing off to the containment ward.

The orderly walked briskly over to the isolation cell, calling over a sweeper from his station at the entrance of the hallway. The medic fumbled with the keys, dropping them twice, as he unlocked the door. He looked over to the sweeper, who was considerably larger than himself, and motioned towards the door.

"Well, open it..." He said as though it were obvious, trying to avoid the wrath of whoever was on the other side. The pounding from the opposite side of the door having greatly dampened whatever confidence he possessed.

Riley threw herself against the door just before it opened, the recoil casting her into the back wall of the cell as light flooded the tiny room. Her arm automatically moved up in front of her face to protect against the harshly blinding light as her eyes desperately tried to adjust.

"Get out of there you." A man said gruffly as he grabbed her arm and pulled her forcefully from the room.

Riley cried out in a mixture of pain and protest as he twisted her arm behind her and began cuffing her hands.

"Ouch! Let go, I want to speak to Mr. Lyle! I need to talk to him!"

I need to know if he killed her.

The man finished cuffing her hands and pushed her roughly away from him. Her head collided with the opposite wall of the corridor as the restraints around her wrists wouldn't allow her to cushion the blow. The sweeper grabbed her shoulder and spun her around none too gently, pushing her back into the wall with such ferocity that she was surprised her lungs didn't collapse in on the themselves, seeming to take some sort of pleasure in causing her pain.

"And why do you think Mr. Lyle would want to talk to the likes of you? You're an experiment; if he wanted anything out of you he'd be down here wouldn't he?"

"I want to speak to him!" She tried to hide the sting of the taunt, what if Mr. Lyle really didn't want to see her?

"Yeah well, I think he's probably got a lot better things to do than speaking to the little rat that runs his mazes. You're nothing; he wouldn't have the time for someone like you."

"That isn't true!" She cried out unthinkingly.

"Are you calling me a liar?" The sweeper growled, gripping the front of her shirt and pulling her closer so that their eyes met. One of his front teeth was grey, as though it had died, and his breath was rank as he spoke directly into her face.

"Let me teach you something. You are a project. You will never be anything more than a project. You are a tool, a device. You have no power around here... They make the rules, you follow the rules, and when you don't, you get sent down here and I have to deal with your sorry little ass. So be a good little pretender, and come with me."

Riley balked as the sweeper lead her down the corridor, but the man was considerably larger than her and her resistance was useless. He dragged her down a long series of white passageways smelling largely of fresh paint and disinfectant spray. The cramped muscles in her legs protested the movement as she was pulled down the hallways, all resembling one another. After a short while Riley stopped trying to familiarize herself with them. The bulky sweeper stopped outside of a door and pushed her against the wall, undoing the handcuffs before shoving her forcibly into the room. She just barely managed to get her hands out in front of her to catch her fall before landing unceremoniously at the feet of another man.

"Now that's what we like to see," The sweeper that had brought her said, stepping through the doorway and sneering down at her, "complete submission. Go ahead; bow down and cower at the feet of your betters."

Riley pushed herself up angrily from the floor at this statement, the temper that was always bubbling near the surface lately about to break through.

"Now really, don't get up, if you want to do the act completely you should start kissing his shoes." He taunted her, seeming to take delight in the sound of his own voice. For about all of two seconds Riley wondered what a kiss was and why he expected her to do it to this other man's footwear. She did however, know an insult when she heard one, and her hand seemed to move of its own accord as her temper built. She punched him full in the face. The other sweeper in the room pinned her to the floor in the next instant, though it really didn't matter to Riley as she took immense satisfaction in watching the man writhing on the floor moaning through his broken nose. Her knuckles ached dully as the second sweeper, whom she decided to name 'Two', pushed her into the wall and handcuffed her arm tightly to a small metal ring designed for that purpose, the silver cuff biting into her flesh cruelly. Placing one restraint around her right hand and the other through the loop, the sweeper stepped away and began tampering with several tinted bottles on the countertop that ran along the wall. Riley noticed with a well concealed thrill that her left hand was left free.

The injured sweeper, whom she decided to call 'One', pushed himself from the floor and took a step toward her menacingly, still clutching at his face.

"You gon do pay for dat one genius." He bit out, his voice sounding muffled behind his hand and his broken nose hindering his speech. Two came over, holding a prepared syringe between his forefinger and thumb, and Riley backed up automatically as he approached, but One waved his hand in the air. "Oh no, she stays awake for this one."

"We don't have orders for this." Two spoke quietly through clenched teeth, not moving his lips as though this would stop Riley from hearing the comment. She did however, and fear raced like electricity along her nerves; what could he want to do that the Centre wouldn't authorize? Riley already knew instinctually that whatever it was it couldn't be good.

"Yeah? We do dow." One said, walking over to Riley and pinning her fully against the wall. He placed a hand over her mouth, pushing his face into her own and meeting her eyes. "One sounb and by the dime I'm drough wid jou you'll wish you'd dieb." He ground his hand against her mouth so hard that her lips cut against her teeth. "Unduhsdand pretender?"

Riley bit him.

Raines watched on a monitor as Riley was pushed into a sterile white room. The next step in the renewal program having been moved up in time. The doctors had been assuring him with almost annoying certainty that they would be able to rectify the problem along with the behavioral complications which she had come for originally. Raines was not so sure. He watched as Riley was tossed roughly into the room, losing her balance as she struggled to stabilize herself on rubbery legs. Soon after events began to deviate horribly away from anything that could be termed 're-education.'

Raines waited some time after the scene of carnage ended before he headed down the hallway towards the cell where Riley was being handled. The girl looked both frightened and strangely triumphant. Whichever emotion eventually won over was an easy one for him to manipulate, and he allowed her to stew in the cold silence of the ward while he made plans. Sufficiently prepared for what he would say to her, he stepped quietly out the door. He saw the doctor from previous down the hallway and ordered a small team of sweepers to be dispatched to the room Riley was being held in. The doctor pattered down the corridor after him, his face puckered up in a semblance of badly disguised annoyance.

"Sir, with all do respect, you can't go down there. You'll ruin the entire re-education process..."

Raines was sorely tempted to vent his annoyance, but instead chose to get rid of the pest in a less permanent manner. "The re-education has been cancelled. Go look at your cameras... this avenue of reprogramming was ruined before it began."

"But...But sir..." The doctor couldn't seem to think of anything to say other than 'but sir' and his protests died out as he grudgingly dispatched the sweepers to the room.

She bit him. She felt blood leak into her mouth and clamped down harder on the man's hand, relishing the exquisite look of pain on his face. Two came at her then, pulling her head back by her hair and causing her mouth to open up. He banged her head against the wall behind it for good measure before stepping away as One came toward her again with mixed fury and pain burning in his eyes. Riley noted with some satisfaction that she could see bone sticking out between the flesh of his fingers. At this point she was surprised his index finger hadn't come off in her mouth.

"Why jou wittle-" Riley never actually found out what a little something she was as his fist connected with her stomach not a moment before he said it. She felt the air leave her lungs in a great rush as her body folded in on itself, her knees crumpling to the floor. The next blow came to her face, his undamaged hand plowing into her eye with enough force to knock her skull into the wall.

"Dot so duff dow are we?"

Riley tried to get her mind to cooperate as the room spun around her, trying desperately to latch onto a way out of this mess. "If they... If they find me in here like this... they're going to know exactly who to blame." She said, forcing her shaking legs into a stand as she still tried to regain her breath.

His hand found its way around her throat, pressing her against the wall "This is the Renewal wing- I'll tell them that you weren't cooperating." He held his hand up in her face, the mangled mess looking even more grotesque close up, "It's not like I don't have any evidence, now is it?

Riley struggled to breath around his hand crushing her windpipe, desperately grappling with him with her free hand in an attempt to ease the pressure on her throat. "Still, it would be bad if they found out you'd hurt such an important asset as me... Actually...I feel kind of stupid telling you this, I'm sure you would have thought of that on your own." She choked out, spitting the words between gritted teeth. Her vision was beginning to blur through lack of oxygen and she threw out her last chance. "It would just be horrible if They came through the door and saw you strangling one of their largest investments... wouldn't it Mr. Raines?" She said, settling her eyes on a point over One's shoulder.

Both sweepers in the room turned in surprise to look behind them, One releasing her throat immediately. Riley thankfully took in a large gulp of air, her head pounding as though she had been upside down and all of her blood had rushed to her brain. Feeling as though solid flames of rage were licking at her better judgment Riley took this opportunity to snatch his gun from its holster under his suit jacket. He turned back around the instant he realized it was a ruse and Riley shot him in the stomach, watching the red blossom across the chest of his white shirt as he fell to the ground, a look of permanent surprise etched across his face. An odd thrill of sadistic pleasure coursed up her spine as she watched him fall backwards, the emotion startling her.

Two was halfway through pulling his own gun from its holster at his side when she threw the gun at him, satisfied as it hit his skull and he dropped to the ground unconscious. She was still stumbling over the oddly wicked feeling of satisfaction at watching that man die as she fumbled to dislocate her thumb and separate herself from the wall she was cuffed to. She managed to extricate herself, wincing as she popped the digit back into its socket and rubbed it back into circulation.

Taking her first real look at her surroundings, carefully avoiding the men lying on the floor, Riley saw medical equipment dotting the edges of the room, not an uncommon occurrence in this wing of the Centre. Hoping to gain some information as to what was supposed to have happened to her here, she walked over and began examining the tiny bottles of drugs, but none of them were labeled; the only indicator of what they contained was a small color coded sticker on the lid. Realizing she couldn't stall any longer Riley turned around and inspected the bodies of the men on the floor. Two had a large gash on his forehead, the hair around the cut matting with blood. Despite this he seemed to be alright, his pulse was a little shallow, but there wasn't much she could do about that now. She didn't bother checking the vital signs of One, knowing what she would find; no pulse, no respiration, no pupil reaction to light. He was dead.

Crouching down next to him and reaching out she tentatively touched a shaking hand to an arm that had already gone pale. She withdrew just as quickly with a startled exclamation, blindly scrambling backwards until she reached the wall. He was ice cold.

Was Sarah ever that cold? The hand holding hers as she was led down the winding corridors of the Facility had always been warm, was it possible that that same hand could ever be as icy as this one? It seemed impossible that flesh could lose all of its temperate warmth so quickly. Skin was warm, but gazing over at the prone form of the sweeper she decided:

She liked him cold.

Her eyes were drawn to the man's inert form like a magnet. She couldn't look away. He was lying on his back, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. The most unsettling bit about it though, was the absolute lack of movement. His chest wasn't moving up and down, his eyes weren't blinking; there was an absence here. All of the subtle machinations of the human body that she had grown to take for granted had ceased to function. And she had been the cause. Riley pushed herself back up from the wall, walking back over to the corpse; she wasn't scared of it anymore. Why should she be? She was the one in control right now. She had won. It was hard to explain, but at that moment, Riley felt exhilarated. It was amazing the amount of power you could feel upon holding another person's life in your hand. She was in control, she had the power. And for the first time in what felt like an indeterminable span, she wasn't angry in even the slightest way. An unnatural calm had enveloped her in the instant she pulled the trigger. Like water through a hole in a dam, all of her fury had escaped her. All she felt now was control, like things were right, it felt good.

What would Mr. Raines think of all this? She wondered, crouching down before the body. He would be furious. Riley had never really had a knack for staying out of trouble, but this time she had really, truly gone too far. It wouldn't matter to Them that the man had been strangling her, the fact of the matter was, she had killed him. And that would be exactly how They would see it.

And should you ever do anything like this again... you will find that there are far worse places to be sent than the renewal wing... Places that make this seem like the very epitome of warm and welcoming... There will be changes made around here...

Mr. Raines' voice echoed upon itself in her mind.

A spark of fear ran up her spine at that thought, the first real emotion she had felt since killing the man. It was kind of annoying; she had liked that feeling of calm, that feeling like everything had simply ceased to exist. It seemed unfair that it should be gone so soon. She wanted it back, but it had left and replaced itself with a hollow feeling that really had only one way of being filled. She knew it now even though she had no proof.

Kill again? Perhaps... but not now...it has to feel right...

Still, there was the matter of what to do when someone came to collect her. She knew without a doubt that someone had seen the spectacle that had played itself out in the room and would be down soon to deal with it.

She could never give them the chance...

She gingerly reached over to the dead man's pocket, removing his key card.

But where to go afterward?

It wasn't as though she could just leave the Centre. The Centre was the only safe place for her. Going out into the real world would be dangerous, someone would exploit her. Maybe the facility?... then she'd just be in the same mess but in a different location... She had once entertained herself with the prospect of living in the vents when she was younger. A childish game that didn't apply to the here and now... unfortunate, she could probably be pretty good at that. No where to run then, but that still left her here with an incriminating dead body and plenty of ways people could think up to make her pay for it. There was nothing she could do to get herself out of this. What would they do to her? In any other circumstance she imagined they would send her to the renewal wing- but she was already there. To those darker places Mr. Raines had referred to then?... Most likely. The prospect of this wasn't one she looked forward to. But she deserved punishment; she had harmed a Centre employee. Everything she had ever been told, said this was wrong. These people had done everything for her. Mr. Raines would not be pleased.

At that moment, the object of her thoughts wheeled through the door of the room. Riley scrambled to her feet quickly, discretely tucking the key card she still held in her hand into the waistband of her pants, as she didn't have any pocket to place it in. It would be best if she wasn't caught with that right now. Mr. Raines never need know that she had thought of running... it wasn't as though she had followed through anyways. Part of her felt guilty at this prospect of deceiving him, she shouldn't be lying to Mr. Raines, but self preservation won out in the end. She steeled herself against the thoughts of punishment running rampant in her mind. She wanted to say something, an explanation perhaps, or an apology- though she couldn't quite work up enough remorse for the action to make it sincere. Her jaw had seemingly locked up on itself, and she didn't trust the words that might escape her mouth if she ever did regain the ability of speech.

Mr. Raines walked over to stand before the body. He had given her a glance before stepping into the room, but hadn't done anything to acknowledge her presence since. She waited for him to say something, to do something, wincing inwardly at the thoughts of the physical repercussions of her actions.

"Come here Riley." Mr. Raines spoke to her while still examining the corpse. Riley timidly walked over and stood opposite him, expecting to be slapped at any moment.

"The bullet appears to have punctured his right lung. And his head split open in the back when he hit the ground." He said, indicating the wounds the man sustained before he died. Riley didn't know what to say to these insights, still utterly confused as to what she was in store for. Riley couldn't read Mr. Raines' emotions, she had never been very good at telling what he was thinking- he was far too good at masking his thoughts. "What were you feeling when you shot him?" Mr. Raines had turned to look at her instead of the body now and Riley felt as though his gaze was looking through her very soul.

"I was angry." She told him, frowning in thought. It was the truth- she had been so angry she could have choked on it.

"And after?"

Riley was almost afraid of answering this question. She was uncertain of what his reaction would be. "I felt... I'm not sure... I was excited. And I felt really powerful, like I was in control." She said. It never occurred to her to lie, not to him. She hesitated before adding on a final part. "I... I enjoyed it."

The corners of his mouth turned upward slightly in an expression she wasn't sure she recognized before he backhanded her across the face. "Very good." He said. "Hate is a powerful weapon Riley."

She suppressed the urge to bring her hand to her stinging cheek and nodded, "I feel it all the time."

Riley watched as Miss Zurbin's tall shadow filled the doorway of the room. She was just as pretty as Riley remembered her to be, despite the danger that Riley now knew lurked beneath the surface. Inherent mistrust and dislike bubbled slowly to the surface as she watched the woman look contemptuously around the room, her eyes pausing for a second on the dead sweeper. Her upper lip curled under in disgust and then she brought her gaze over to Riley. Zurbin's eyes reduced to suspicious slits as she looked the girl over. The intrigue of before was gone, replaced by something that found Riley a lot less interesting, and a lot more dangerous. Her eyes traveled upwards from Riley to Mr. Raines.

"If I might have a word with you Doctor?" She said, motioning out the door and stepping aside as he exited past her. She gave Riley one last look of dry suspicion before exiting after him. The revulsion in her manner gave Riley a cold feeling of anxiety, as though things were about to go terribly wrong.

Riley sank back against the wall broodingly, going over the conversation Mr. Raines had had with her before they had been interrupted.

"But Sir... Why?"

"Why what Riley?"

Riley hesitated before plowing on with her question. Part of her
knowing that he wouldn't like it that she was asking. "Sir...Why...
why did you kill Sarah... And why did you say that Mr. Lyle was
dead?... Why did you lie?" Riley asked, trying to keep the emotion
out of her voice, though she didn't truly succeed. She fought off
the emotions of earlier, the ones she had given into inside the
isolation cell. She needed the answer to this and he would never
give her one if she went to pieces like that again.

"We have been over this Riley... Many times before..."
Mr. Raines said reproachfully.

"But Sir-"

"Stop arguing Riley."

"Yes sir." She slumped her shoulders in defeat, what
would come next was an excerpt from a speech that she had heard
many times over the years, and it became harder and harder to hear
it each time.

"I've told you before... Sometimes this institution
does things for your own good... We're here to protect you...
Things happen among the people here that you don't always need to
know about, this is for your own well-being..."

You killed her in front of me... was that for my own good?

Riley wanted to ask, but knew better than to push him. Something
must have shown in her manner however that told him the answer just
wasn't quite good enough this time, because after a pause he
continued.

"Riley, Sarah wasn't pushing your project in the
direction it needed to go... She was a danger..."

"But... but Mr. Lyle... He wasn't a danger, was he?"

"No-"

"-Then why did you say that he was dead? Why did you
say that Jarod had killed him?" She cut him off without even
realizing it. Perhaps Sarah had been a danger... but Mr. Lyle had
never done anything like that...

"Riley, Lyle was transferred to a different project...
You were told that he was dead because we knew that if you thought
he was alive it would be a distraction... We couldn't allow your
work to be affected..."

"Well... may I see him now?... Please?... I'm not
working on anything right now..."

"No."

"But-"

Mr. Raines cuffed her admonishingly, "Riley, stop
arguing... The answer is no... This sort of behavior is precisely
the reason why we told you he was dead in the first place... forget
about Lyle and forget about Sarah... They aren't a part of your
life anymore...

Riley sat with her back to the wall and pounded it with her fist in frustration; it wasn't fair! She wouldn't let it affect her work she just wanted to talk to him!

Riley's mind came back to the present situation with a painful sting as tension in the corridor outside peaked and her empathic senses picked it up. She rubbed at her temple to get rid of the lingering emotion and wondered idly what was going on out there. She looked up at the surveillance camera in the corner of the room and decided to risk it, the footage was only monitored half the time anyways...

Riley crept over to the open door, crouching down and hiding in the shadows, ready to move the instant the two adults began to come back inside. They were about halfway down the hall, and the hostility in the air was palpable. She strained her ears to hear what they were talking about, a little voice in the back of her head screaming that eavesdropping was wrong. She squashed it down, placing it in the corner of her mind where it couldn't get into trouble. Listening in was the only way she ever got any information around here, if they didn't want to be overheard they should have gone into an office or something.

"...not the point..." Miss Zurbin was saying. Riley frowned as she realized she couldn't hear everything, they were too far away.

"... pretender since Jarod... think... profits..." This sentence made about as much sense as the first to Riley and she scooted a little closer, out of the shadows, but not yet in their immediate line of sight.

"...institution cannot afford... rogue pretender..." Miss Zurbin replied, "We have Jarod... don't need her anymore."

"..." Mr. Raines next sentence was lost to Riley's ears as his voice got lower in volume. It always seemed to do this whenever he was especially angry, and her empathic traits were only confirming the suspicion. Whatever he had said seemed to trigger something in Miss Zurbin though, because she answered him in a voice loud enough that it could almost be classified as yelling. Riley was washed over with the Triumvirate woman's angry emotions, literally knocked backward by them, and she tried to shield her mind against this woman's fury as she remained listening.

"She's dangerous!" She cried, gesticulating erratically.

Raines voice was once again lost, but Miss Zurbin was now more than making up for it.

"Not towards the Centre! --She just murdered a Centre employee, I don't care if he was 'expendable' the next person she goes after might not be! It was a valid endeavor, but it obviously didn't work. She got us what we needed, we have Jarod back now. This company cannot afford another AWOL pretender with a vendetta against the world... We're pulling the backing on this project Doctor... This is a Triumvirate directive- Your subject is being terminated."

Riley felt her heart skip a beat at the final word. Terminated... she had always known that it was possible... the Triumvirate could order it... but it had never seemed like something she needed to worry about, it was something that happened to investments that turned sour... terminated was a red stamp on a folder somewhere. Riley had difficulty seeing herself in relation to either of those. Terminated... They were going to kill her...

I need to get out of here...

Riley scrambled up from the floor, looking around the room for an avenue of escape. She still had the sweeper's key card, but she couldn't go out where everyone could see her, she'd be caught in an instant! As she stood thinking a persistent urging in the back of her mind screamed to hurry. Get away! Get away!

The vent, it was the only way. The vent of the room was located in the ceiling, about a foot from the wall. Now the question was how to get up there? Riley grabbed the handcuffs off the dead sweeper, running over to ring in the wall she had been chained to earlier. She opened one of the cuff holes, holding it ready in her hand, and hoisted herself up onto the ring, trying to balance on it with one foot as she held her other leg out to the side to keep her weight in proportion, so she wouldn't fall over. The ring she was standing on was thin metal, with a sharp curve and her foot twisted painfully while she was standing with it as her only support. She reached outward and looped the open cuff around a slat in the vent grating, losing her balance just as circle closed and the lock in the cuff clicked. She hung onto the set of handcuffs like a lifeline, as she fell off the ring stanchion and, suspended in air, hung about two or three feet above the floor. Her arms strained as she maneuvered herself closer to the grating, like one eternal pull-up. She reached up and undid the first of the four screws that held the grate in place in the ceiling, it gave an unnerving shudder as the screw slipped loose and she began on the second without wasting any time, the vent cover would not be able to hold her weight like this for very long. Before she could get the second screw fully undone it slipped from its hole and the grate gave a jarring swing outward. The handcuff slid around on the slat loosely and she pulled herself up into the vent, cutting her hands on the sharp metal edges. Her foot kicked the grate as she got entirely in and the abused hunk of metal fell to the floor with a clatter.

Mr. Raines and Miss Zurbin entered the room moments later, drawn back in by the crash. The gaping hole in the ceiling where the vent cover should be seemed to Riley like a flashing sign, indicating where she had gone. As she scrambled away from the room through the cold steel tunnels she heard Miss Zurbin let off a string of words she had only heard Mr. Lyle say once, and was told not to repeat. The order went out just as quickly, spreading like lightning among the sweepers and orderlies below- lockdown; no one without a swipe card gets out of the ward.

Riley felt the small bit of plastic dig into her side where she had stashed it in the waistband of her cotton pants. She stopped in the shaft once she felt she had put a safe distance between herself and her starting point, she sat back against the metal wall and pulled out the card to examine it. It was the dead sweeper's pass, no one would notice it missing for a while... That was good; if they tagged it the card would be useless. Could hardly open a broom closet much less a Sub-Level access door.

Mr. Lyle had once described his job with her as his 'ticket to success' when they were both younger. He had been really eager, happy about his job. He said that it was the sort of job that gave you power within a company like this. And then he had jokingly teased her that if she was a really good pretender and did everything he said it would mean great things for both of them... Riley had known even then that it wouldn't really, it would mean great things for him... but it hadn't mattered to her then, she was happy to help him.

This key card was a ticket too. It was her ticket. Her ticket... but to where? To what? The outside world? The notion of this was frightening, the large, loud, dangerous, outside world. And the Centre... the Centre was safe... but not anymore. Leaving the Centre was wrong. It was like letting down everyone that she had ever known... But what did it matter anymore? It wasn't as though she hadn't already. They wouldn't be trying to kill her if she hadn't let them all down in the worst way already. Nothing she did mattered anymore. If she didn't leave she was dead.

Riley tucked the key card back into its place at her side and crawled forwards. Weak people died. Weak pretenders were terminated. She wasn't weak. Survival was all that mattered right now.