The air was thick and smelled of must. People crowded into the streets like they were in the center of New York City, but when she looked up she saw the towering remnants of an ancient metropolis. Like a tide, they pulled at her this way and that. Green eyes staring up at the sky quickly were once more pulled to the cobblestone street beneath her feet as she tripped and fell to the ground.

She had to move. That was the only thing she was sure of. She had to find him.

"He's here!" the people murmured, the phrase coming towards her like ripples in a pond, followed by gushing. Their words were a roar in her ear, fan-girls and fan-boys all vying to be seen and heard over all the others.

Something possessive curled around her heart, a jealous python that would squeeze until the organ burst in her chest and rendered her lifeless on the street. Then she would be left to be trampled by the stampede, head caved in and bones broken by a million feet — the second rendition of the Who concert of the 19070s.

She had to move.

The snake in her chest provoked something in her. Her hands were like claws as they dug into the shoulders of those in front of her, pulling them back so she could surge forwards. Like rag-dolls they allowed her to tear into them or perhaps she simply didn't care if they were hurt. All that mattered was finding him.

Finally, she could see the edge of their ranks. They were like a funeral procession, swaying back and forth silently. No cries of praise or screaming of star-struck fans close to their equivalent of a god. He wasn't a god… not to her. Or maybe he was? She couldn't recall.

All she knew is that when she looked at him her heart soared and she felt happier than she had ever felt before. When she finally saw his golden hair between the silhouettes of those before her she felt giddy, a smile pulling at her lips as she reached out to him. Blue eyes met hers and she could see the universe within them, a sea she could explore a million times over without growing tired. She smiled so much it hurt, her lips forming his name like a prayer.

The smile faded as quickly as it had formed. His back turned to her as he ascended the stairs, up to one of the ancient monoliths that surrounded them. Her heart fell to her stomach and all she could do was stand there, hot and salty tears pouring down her cheeks.

He was hers, wasn't he? Or was she simply of the masses, looking upon him and wishing to be looked upon in return… to be something more than what they were.

Em awoke with a gasp, heart hammering in her ears as she stared down at the floor of the empty hallway, the wall she leaned on cool to the touch.

Wait… hallway?

Panicked, she righted herself, turning around in circles as she tried to figure out where she was. How did she end up in the hallway? The last thing she remembered was Venable sending them to their rooms as wardens rushed in to deal with the snakes. Emily, as usual, had pulled Em to her senses… literally tugging her from the chair with the help of The Fist. The Three Musketeers had gathered in the library, Timothy convinced they had actually summoned a demon while the two girls sought a more logical explanation

Then she had gone to bed, seeking refuge from the continuous hunger that clawed at her belly… sleepwalking maybe? But she had never sleepwalked before…

Em looked down at her legs. She had gotten dressed, entirely in purple with a bow around her neck and puffed sleeves that reminded her of the 80s. Her now shoulder-length hair was even pulled back into a bun.

A hand went to her wrist, something stiff behind the cuffs of her sleeves. She had even readied the pocket knife she had smuggled in, hidden in a secret pocket she had sown in during their first few weeks in the outpost.

She had always been meticulous when getting ready for the day — the curse of Victorian clothes and an inability to trust the presiding authority. So how could she not remember? Dissociating wasn't new to her — it was common to get into a routine and go on autopilot, but this was just… black. Like she had drunk too much or had her wisdom teeth removed.

"Em!" A voice called, the woman in question turning at the sound of footsteps running in her direction. Emily bounded towards her, lifting her skirt so she could move as quickly as possible. "There you are! We've been looking all over for you!"

The brunette didn't even note the buzzing feeling until it retreated from her, leaving her head, then her shoulders, and onward until it left her toes and seemed to seep into the floor, her spine-shivering at the sensation. How could she not have felt it jitter her bones?

Emily noted her friend's distant gaze and pinched brows, hand going to cover Em's freezing ones. "Are you alright?"

Em shook her head, trying to clear away the fog.

"Sorry," She apologized, offering an unconvincing and certainly not reassuring smile despite her intentions, "lost my head for a moment there. Did you need something?"

Emily frowned for a moment but didn't push.

"Venable called for a meeting. Maybe we'll finally figure out something."

She took a few steps forward, hand reaching back for Em to take. A small relieved smile flickered to Emily's face as Em took her hand, allowing the ebony-haired girl to tug her along to the salon.

"Who do you think was in Venable's office?" Emily asked. Her hand was tight around Em's as if she were afraid the brunette would float away.

"I don't know."

"Has to be someone important. I've never seen her so ruffled."

"She deserves to be ruffled," Em notes, earning a laugh from her companion.

"Amen to that."


Em would probably never stop complaining about the arrangement of furniture in the salon. Having her back to open air was unnerving and knowing a wall of Greys were behind her didn't help smooth out the hairs that stood up on the back of her neck.

She shifted this way and that as the others chatted around her, trying to find a position that eased her tension. The brunette would slouch, but corsets made that physically impossible. Emily noted her friend's discomfort and offered her a reassuring smile.

God, she wished she could join the Greys, standing in the background against the walls or above them on the small balcony. She glanced over to Venable who stood front and center. It reminded Em of an annoying governess, looking down at her charges with her nose in the air. No, if Em moved that would break the woman's precious rules. Heavens knew they couldn't break quid pro quo of their tiny society.

While Venable's presence was enough to seep any joy from the room, there was an added weight to the usual tension. This moment was going to be a defining one. A visitor knocking on one's door during a nuclear winter was haunting and they had all been warned about the cannibals… the wild, tumor infested ones at the very least.

The clicking of heels against wood was a drum-roll suitable for a battlefield, growing closer and closer at an agonizingly slow pace. They all turned their attention to the door which stood wide open by a Grey. From the shadows, a man came forth.

His clothes were much more modern than her own, making Em feel more than a bit ridiculous. She kept her hands in her lap and forced herself not to fidget as he rounded the room. The light of the fire he was approaching made his features more prominent, but her attention was focused on his hair. The way the firelight hit him made it seem like there was a golden halo around his head, catching and setting ablaze every stray strand. It was enough to awe at, the poet in her quick to make a comparison to angels. Then again, even God's most beautiful angel had locks of golden hair… and they all know what happened to him.

He came to a stop uncomfortably close to Venable. It was enough to unnerve the woman, a triumphant smile quickly pressed into a thin line. His actions were primal, a lion trying to take over the pride. When Em glanced at Emily and the others she found that they had already removed their gaze as if they were watching a dance that was not meant to be seen. Coco scratched at the back of her neck and even Dinah preoccupied herself with straightening a wrinkle in her dress.

Whatever Venable saw in the man's eyes was enough to make her falter and step back, the second-long interaction feeling much longer.

Smug, he pulled his gaze away from the queen of Outpost 3 and glanced over them with his hands behind his back. He oozed and burned with something Em had been yearning for — power. Letting the silence sit for a moment, he finally addressed them.

"My name is Langdon and I represent The Cooperative," He started, "I won't sugarcoat the situation."

They all sat a little straighter, eager to hear him speak. His eyes linger on her and she does not look away, makes sure of it. It was a primal interaction she knew all too well.

"Humanity is on the brink of failure," Langdon went on, eyes not leaving hers, waiting for her to turn away.

While the existence of "alphas" was debatable and even debunked by the man who coined it, dogs and even cats avert their eyes from their more powerful counterparts. Em would not bow her head to anyone.

"My arrival here," He continued, finally pulling away, "was crucial to the survival of civilized life on earth. The three other compounds — in Syracuse, New York, Beckley, West Virginia, and San Angelo, Texas — have been overrun and destroyed."

West Virginia — that's where Em had been initially placed before some rich benefactor decided their dog was more deserving of her position there. She was lucky The Cooperative even bothered to place her somewhere else. While Texas would have been the next closer outpost to where she was on the east coast, she was honestly quite glad to be where she was. Enough of her life had been spent surrounded by bigoted rednecks.

Langdon went on, "We've had no contact from the six international outposts, but we are assuming that they, too, have been eliminated."

Em bit her lip to keep down the retort that threatened to burst out. A giant fucking ocean and radiation interfering with whatever electrical-waves that could be used for communication ensured little to no communication. She doubted a radioactive pigeon could even survive long enough to make a voyage.

"What happened to the people inside?" Timothy asked across from her. He was the only one that seemed relaxed, leaning against the arm of the chair as he had during every cocktail hour for the past 18 months.

Langdon spared him a fleeting glance, tone light despite the gravity, "Massacred."

"By who?" Em prompted.

The quick side-eye from the man was enough to tell her that he had heard her, but was choosing not to address her.

He was not shy to deliver the news which he had come here to give them, "The same fate that will befall almost all of you."

"Almost all?" A Grey questioned from behind her. Em glanced in the direction of the voice to find the girl that had delivered Em her clothes a few days before. Coco's friend… though "friend" would be a very loose word.

Once again, Langdon pretended not to hear. Looking at the girl, but not dignifying her with a response.

"In the knowledge that this very moment might occur," he said, "We built a failsafe — The Sanctuary."

"The Sanctuary?" Coco echoed.

"The Sanctuary," He went on, quickly growing tired of the interruptions, "is unique. It has certain security measures that will prevent overrun."

Mead made a face at that, clearly bothered by this bit of information, "Excuse me, sir, what measures? Why weren't we given them?"

"And why weren't they applied to all outposts?" Em couldn't help but add, meeting Mead's gaze which shared a similar glimmer of realization.

When she turned back to the blond, his eyes were boring into her own, raising a hand to silence Mead, "That's classified."

He sighed, unable to hide his annoyance, "All that matters is that The Sanctuary will… survive, so the people inside it will survive, so that humanity will survive."

Andre had looked at the man with contempt from the moment Langdon had entered the room. His eyes flared with anger the other residents were all too familiar with. "Who are the people who are populating it?"

Langdon shook his head, eyes shimmering with something akin to amusement, "…also classified. However, I have been sent to determine if any of you are worthy and fit to join us."

Chattering filled the room, Coco's face breaking into a smile as she turned to Gallant and Dinah beaming as she squeezed her son's hand. Timothy, Em, and Emily could only spare one another silent and concerned looks. They all knew the questions in the minds of the other two. Did wealth factor into their chances? Either was, Em was reluctant to get her hopes up… she had learned that lesson long before the apocalypse.

"The Cooperative has developed a particular and rigorous questioning technique we like to call… 'Cooperating'." Langdon explained, glancing over to them with a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, threatening to grow into something more. "I will then use the information gained to determine if you belong."

This time, Em could not hold back the quiet scoff that left her. He had to know what he sounded like. His sarcastic tone implied that much… like a CEO on his high horse telling minimum wage workers that if they worked hard enough then they wouldn't have to worry about rent.

Naturally, Coco was quick to throw a fit and complain. The other residents could practically sense it coming like it was The Force from Star Wars.

"What is this? The Hunger Games?" she spat, "This is bullshit. I paid my way in here and that is the only cooperating I plan on doing."

Em sighed and leaned towards Emily, being careful to keep her voice to a whisper, "I think I'd prefer The Hunger games."

Emily gave her a look, biting her lip to hide the amusement that had begun to show itself on her face.

Langdon waited out the tirade like a parent watching their child throw a tantrum in a Target. Certain it would come to an end, but not quite sure when. Part of him even looked shocked at the outburst altogether.

"You don't have to sit for questioning," he informed her. Whatever first impression Em would make on this man, she could at the very least assure herself that is wasn't as bad as Coco's.

"What happens if we chose not to?" Andre asked.

"Then you stay here and die." Langdon snapped. He had hoped for his message to be implied through his speech, but these people seemed to need their hand held, either too stupid or too lazy to put 2 and 2 together.

"I volunteer to go first!" Gallant proclaimed abruptly, raising his hand into the air.

"And so you shall," Langdon said with a smirk. Em's eyes lingered on the hairstylist, making a note to keep her ears to the pavement. The man couldn't keep a secret to save his life… then again it wouldn't be past him to tell her the wrong information just to ensure his own salvation.

"The process should only take me a week or so," Langdon said, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, "so you won't be kept in suspense forever. For those of you who don't make the cut, all is not lost."

His eyes scanned over them once more as he held up a vial, "If the worst should happen and feral cannibals come knocking, down one of these."

There were only a few pills left and they all had to wonder if the vial was once full to the brim, "one minute later, you fall asleep and never wake up."

Emily's hand gripped on to Em's skirt, but Em did not share her concern. She was quite surprised at her relief, tension leaving her shoulders. What was it that Hamlet said — "To sleep perchance to dream?" She was so tired of fighting, but the thought of death was a sobering chill in her bones, an existential fear she could not escape. She was like Jekyll and Hyde, flickering between wanting to live and wanting to fall into an endless slumber.

"I look forward to meeting each and every one of you."

Langdon left as quick as he had entered, in silence with nothing but the clicking of heels down a hallway to give any sign he was even there at all.

They all sat there, staring at nothing… some of them turning their gaze inward. Em could only wonder what the price of survival was. Right now they were living one day only to make it to the next. It was hell, plain and simple. This ultimatum was simply choosing the lesser of two evils.

All she wanted was to see the sky — the real thing, not a worn photograph frozen in time. But there wasn't a sky anymore, was there? Just a green haze. The brunette was nothing more than a walking corpse, the dance of day to day life, of cocktail hour and dinners and library sessions, was just a distraction. Who was to say they weren't leaving one prison to be locked in another?

Sometimes she just wanted to scream until her vocal cords snapped.


It didn't take long for the purples to be at each other's throats. She found it almost morbidly amusing — in the plight to survive they would end up killing one another until no one was left. That was irony, right? Em had become hazy on the exact definition and was too lazy at the moment to search for the answer.

"Well, smooth move asking to go first," Coco scoffed, turning and glaring at the man beside her as soon as Venable had left the room.

"There's an old actor's adage," Evie sighed, "Either go first or go last."

"You're not going anywhere," Coco snipped.

"Are you suggesting that he is going to pass me up?"

"You're ancient! He's looking for people to repopulate the earth, not fill a bingo hall."

"You know, for someone with the mental capacity of a 3-year-old, I suppose 52 might seem ancient."

Coco laughed, mocking and without mercy, "You were 52 when Elvis took his last shit!"

"That's enough," Gallant groaned.

"Oh, no." Evie said, "let her spout. I remember a wonderful lunch that I had with Dan Tana's with Natalie Wood."

Coco groaned and pressed her face into a hand she had propped up on the arm of the chair.

"Natalie turned to me and she said," Evie continued, changing to mock an accent Em couldn't quite place, "' Evie, you are a survivor. You're gonna outlive us all.'"

With a flourish of her hand, the old woman procured a fan from somewhere on her person and used it to emphasize her point, "and dear Natalie — she turned out to be right."

Em's restraint and sanity were at an end. Whatever thread it had been dangling by snapping as she listened to Gallant and Coco go at the other's throat, the other residents hardly doing anything to help the situation.

Emily jumped as the brunette next to her suddenly jumped to her feet. Coco opening her mouth to retort to the old woman's story, but finding herself cut off.

"Shut up!" She cried, "For the love of god, shut up!"

The group went quiet, shocked and looking to another for some explanation. Em wasn't one to hide her aggravation, but it was mostly aimed at Venable. For the past 18 months, she had been relatively quiet save for her interactions with Emily and Timothy.

"Realistically," She posed, "What is going to happen to us?"

Coco frowned, "I don't know about you, but I'm going to be in that sanctuary."

Evie scoffed, "darling, you have as much of a chance getting into that sanctuary as Stu does."

Coco narrowed her eyes, "Stu's dead."

"That's her point." Gallant sighed.

"You have no right to speak his name!" Andre snapped before turning and glaring at the old woman, "especially you!"

"We didn't eat your boyfriend!" Coco and Gallant snapped back in unison.

Dinah stood and took a spot next to Em who could only roll her eyes at the former star's antics, "The only way to survive is to work together."

"Oh, shut up," Coco groaned, leaning her head back on the couch, "that garbage may have worked in TV land, but this is real life."

"And real life has need of influencers?" Em scoffed. She was beyond done with this batch of spoiled socialites and tired of holding her tongue in the hopes that one day they may prove useful. "Spare me."

Coco gaped at her, turning to her and beginning to bop her head again like an angry chicken, "there are 2 types of people in the world: the influenced and the influencers."

Em shook her head, hands coming to her chin as if she was praying, "The old world, you mean."

"Old world, new world." Coco said, "it's all the same."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" Em asked, holding back a laugh.

"Oh, and you have all the answers?"

"No," Em admitted, coming to stand in front of the fireplace, "but I have facts: most of the people in this room have no applicable skills."

Coco raised a finger and opened her mouth.

Em held out a hand, pointing at her with the rage of god, "I swear if the word influencer leaves you mouth one more time—"

Whatever Coco saw in the brunette's eyes was enough to shut her up, eyes going to the ground before her before she glanced at the others. Even Emily was frightened by her friend's current rampage, looking to Timothy who only shrugged… Em had a point.

"Scientists theorized after World War Three," Em explained, pacing back and forth, "that 80 percent of people would die in the blast and the other 20 percent would die in the aftermath."

"But the Sanctuary—"

Em cut off Gallant, "The only sanctuary we have is in death and this place— "

She motioned to the room around here, "— this place only prolongs our suffering."

"Well if you're so right and whatever why don't you just off yourself and save us the headache!" Coco snapped.

"Out fingers have the consistency of a carrot," Em sighed, speaking more to herself than the others, "we could bite it off just as easily… but we don't."

"Yeah! Because we're not psychos!"

"Because our brains stop us," Em said, "When standing at the edge of a tall building some of us feel the urge to jump… not because we're depressed, not because we want to, but because it is simply there."

"Are you going to get to the point?" Gallant sighed, pinching his nose and making a motion with his hands to hurry the girl up.

"Humans don't want to off themselves. Those who do are fighting against every instinct that says otherwise, but—"

Em mimed a gun with two of her fingers and aimed it at Coco, closing one eye as if to get a better shot, "— to kill another is so much easier."

"You think The Cooperative is just trying to off the 20 percent?" Timothy asked, leaning forward and glancing at Emily.

"Then why leave the others outside in the radiation," Emily asked, brows pinched together in thought as she glanced between her boyfriend and Em, "Why not let us all die?"

"Because we are human," Em said, "and humans don't want to die. They will find whatever reason they can to worm their way to self-preservation."

Gallant opened his mouth to comment, but the signature sound of a cane hitting hardwood made everyone fall silent. Venable appearing in the doorway, looking less than pleased as she stared at Em, raising her head to look at the woman down her nose.

"To question those who keep us alive is a flagrant show of disrespect," she said.

"If we do not challenge our perception how are we to survive?" Em posed.

The residents glanced between the two like watching a tennis match where there were knives instead of balls.

Venable straightened ever slightly, "through strong will and respect for the chain of command."

Em scoffed, "Putting a corset on chaos and hoping it will stay in its confines."

"You doubt The Cooperative?" Venable asked, taking a step forward.

"I'm entertaining philosophical debate."

"AKA going bat-shit crazy," Coco laughed, sparing a look at Gallant who smiled at some unspoken joke.

"Well you got one thing right," Venable said, banging her cane on the floor to gather the attention of the entire room and looking over each of them one by one, "You're all expendable."

Her eyes landed on Em, "something everyone would do well to remember."

Venable turned around and began to walk away, but Em's voice made her halt. As always it was smug and mocking. She couldn't wait for this particular fly to finally be squashed.

"What about you?"

Her voice was firm and resolute, "I am the only thing standing between you and a quick death."

She didn't turn to look at Em, but she could practically sense the mocking bow taking place behind her.

"Then I yield to my executioner."

Venable's lips twitched into a scowl that she did not pretend to hide, unseen by the crowd behind her.

"Dinner is in an hour," She spat, "Tardiness will not be accepted for any reason."


Timothy and Emily had gathered in the latter's room, sighing against the other's lips. Emily groaned as he pulled away trying to pull him closer only to be stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

"This one kiss a week is bullshit." She sighed, eyes flickering open as she looked at Timothy through her lashes.

Timothy's eyes pressed into a line as he looked everywhere but at her, trying to hold on to whatever restraint he had left. "I know."

There was a moment of silence before Emily spoke again, "I want to get out of here."

Timothy could only stare at her, praying she wasn't implying what he thought she was, "What are you talking about?"

Emily stood, the lack of her warmth beside him quickly sobering Timothy to the conversation at hand, "I'm not gonna wait around to find out if Langdon chooses us and I don't exactly trust him, anyway."

She was practically beaming as she proposed her plan to him, "I say we steal two rad-suits and some food and take our chances on the road… find the sanctuary ourselves."

He didn't even know how to respond to that, leaning back on the bed as he gaped like a fish and gestured out to her in hopes that would spur some epiphany of words. Part of him was annoyed with Em. Put those two together and they'd overtake the outpost if they could.

"That is crazy," was all he could say, quickly searching for something to add after as Emily began to give him that scathing glower, "We don't… Have you forgotten what it's like out there?"

"Em would be down in a heartbeat," Emily tried to persuade.

"Em is less impulsive than you think. She's seen what cancer does to people… it's not pretty."

"I'm not saying we have to rush it," Emily reassured, walking back to him a kneeling down to grab his hand, "but Langdon made it here okay and he was all alone. He doesn't exactly look like Mad Max."

"We don't even know where The Sanctuary is."

"Maybe there's something in his room that'll tell us," Emily said, "Em knows how to use information… she's a fucking encyclopedia sometimes."

Timothy was shaking his head but laughed despite himself.

"Fine," he relented, "but only if Em agrees. We're in this together or not at all."

Emily was beaming, springing up and hugging him. Timothy gasped as the air was nearly knocked out of him.

"You won't regret it," She whispered in his ear.


With the pressure of impending doom, most of the residents were keeping their heads low. While she felt somewhat embarrassed about her previous rampage, there was some therapeutic relief in it. While she had voiced her complaints before, it had never been so… explosive.

Coco had called her psycho and part of Em couldn't completely deny it. She had lost time not even an hour before. If things kept going as they were, a much more violent and permanent break would be in her future. The black void in her memory frightened her to no end. It was like being in the blast all over again, alone and surrounded by nothingness as the bombs shook her bones. Em imagined it was what death felt like, but she didn't like to imagine it for long.

Gallant had his interview which gave them all an hour or so free of drama. Things almost felt peaceful… as peaceful as looming death would allow.

Foolishly, she had begun her free-time looking for the occult book the Three Musketeers had used to terrify Timothy. Now, she sat at a table with medical books strewn around her as she scribbled in her notebook. Medical professionals said not to self-diagnose, but the brunette had a lack of a better option.

Her symptoms included buzzing and loss of time. While it was easy to chalk it up to starvation, something about that prognosis didn't sit right with her. Unfortunately, with those symptoms alone she might as well have searched on WebMD and chosen the worse possible answer. Cancer, tumors, and all other sorts of daunting diagnoses the first things she came across.

Sighing, Em leaned on her hand and allowed it to pull at her cheeks before running it through her hair. A dead-end stood in front of her, mocking her. She had done everything — read every book she could get her hands on and created detailed notes of every possible diagnosis. Balled up paper surrounded her, each one of them another dead end.

So, eyes tired from reading small print in dim lighting, Em changed course. With a sigh, she pushed aside the medical books and medical notes and pulled towards her the books on agriculture and self-sustainability.

Despite her feelings towards the current states of life and death, the humanity in her urged her to plow forward — to prepare for the worst-case scenario.

She knew what happened in Chernobyl. Every class since pre-k seemed to go over the subject, but Chernobyl was a harmless puppy compared to what they now faced. What happened when the radiation had nowhere to go? Was it even able to dissipate?

Then there was the issue of food. What could they eat when the entire food supply was contaminated? It was possible, she knew that much, but without the Cooperative —

Em was pulled out of her thoughts by the feeling of being watched, hand going to her neck where hairs stood on end. Looking up, she found Langdon standing there, watching her from the end of an aisle. It was unnerving, his stare, like looking into the eyes of a hungry wolf. How long had he been there?

"You've wandered away from the heard," He noted, hands behind his back as he sauntered towards her.

She turned her attention back to her collection of books, sighing at the sudden interruption and heart halting fear Langdon's sudden presence evoked, "A heard implies we are a collective group."

He came to a stop by her side cocking his head as he looked at the books piled up around her like a make-shift fort. He made no move to sit. Another power play.

"Aren't you?" he asked, picking a book from the top of the pile — a medical dictionary. His eyes flickered over some of the pages as he flipped through it. Why would she be looking at medical dictionaries?

Em was quick to organize her notes, scattered here and there. She placed them under the books if only to spare herself from whatever line of questioning they would evoke. Langdon noticed but did not comment.

"Push comes to shove, most of us will turn on the others to survive." She told him, finally looking at him.

He smirked, catching her subtle slip-up as he placed the dictionary back on its respective pile, "us?"

Her hazel-green eyes flickered back towards her books.

"I don't particularly care for many of them," Em sighed, pulling a tome from a pile and opening it to read its index, "and I know they would sacrifice me in a heartbeat."

"An eye for an eye," Langdon noted, rounding the table until he stood on her right, taking a seat on the table instead of a chair, "some may call that barbaric."

"I call it balance," Em noted, looking up from the book and into his blue eyes. The sight of them made her pause, but only for an instant. "Is this my interview?"

"Do you want it to be?"

"I think it doesn't matter what I want."

His eyes narrowed as if trying to find something in her eyes, his head quirking to the side yet again, "then why do you ask?"

Em motioned to the books in front of her, "curiosity."

"Curiosity killed the cat," He noted, waving his hand and looking away from her as he continued, "or so they say."

"But satisfaction brought it back," she finished.

A smirk crawled onto his lips and once more he turned his attention to the piles of books before her. His hands went to one of the medical books, opening it and skimming through the pages.

"How many books have you read?" he asked, the simplicity of the question taking her off-guard. Em eyed the book in her hand, small with yellowed pages. She closed it with a snap before turning it this way and that, calculating something in her head.

"Depends on the size," she admits, "one a day, larger ones maybe a week. Some I've re-read. Would you count those as well?"

Michael smiled and shook his head, placing his book back on the pile, "Do you intend to read them all?"

"Personal goal," she admits, fiddling with her bracelet, "we all need something to get us through the day."

Michael's eyes focused on her hands which religiously turned and twisted at the string and beads around her wrist.

"Such a simple thing," he noted, "I assume it has sentimental value?"

"More like superstition," she admits, "I was wearing it when I was brought here. It's a Nazar, meant to ward off the evil eye."

Michael hummed, eyes not leaving the object, "I'm familiar. When logic cannot prevail humans rely upon— "

Em went to add something, but they were cut off by the shrieking of the library door. Em turned towards the sound but she could feel Michael's eye on her.

"Oh!" Coco exclaimed from across the room, laughing with her hand on her heart like she was surprised as she started towards them. A hand went to pat her hair to keep it in place. "I didn't expect you to be in here!"

Em sighed and rolled her eyes, Michael's finally leaving her and dragging to Coco as he rose to his feet. Whatever smirk he wore was gone, his expression a stone-like mask. Was he annoyed or was that simply his resting face?

"Having a little party here?" Coco asked, her voice almost painfully nice as a hand motioned to the door behind her to the door, "or is this an intimate affair? Should I go and — "

"No need," Langdon told her, raising a hand to silence her as he moved towards the door. As he approached Coco he stopped for a moment, eying her up and down, "I have other business to attend to."

Coco simply stood there, trapped in his gaze until he finally turned back to Em, hands going behind his back. They were always behind his back… as if he were hiding something from them.

"You have enlightened me to some fascinating bits of information. I can't wait to see what else my interview will extract."

The room fell eerily silent as he left. Em watched his back, his hands. There was something off about this man… The Cooperative in general. Of all the times not to have internet—

"So what were you two talking about?" Coco asked, Em jumping as the woman seemed to suddenly appear before her. The sickly-sweet voice was back again, flooding Em's mind with memories from high-school.

"Books," Em sighed, reorganizing the books. She needed to put away the medical ones and get a few more for her other research… "and what living here is like."

"Did he say anything about the interview?"

"No."

Coco scoffed, rolling her eyes, "then my time is wasted."

In a flurry of huffing and stomping, the woman left the room. Silence took over the library once more as the door slammed shut.

"No," Em sang in a hushed tone, collecting books into her arms and returning them to their proper place, "don't go."

Desperation in a den of hungry wolves was dangerous enough, dangle a piece of meat and they would most certainly tear one another to pieces.