Time: 8:46 PM
It's harder for me to write now, let alone find inspiration for this story. One day my friends. One day I will finish this story! *Puts fist into air and then beats chest and lets out a banshee call and runs into the forest*
Disclaimer: No own JN.
When I remained silent, the snaky grin on his face retreated and was replaced by disregard and boredom. With a snap of his fingers, a uniformed soldier kneeled at his feet, face to the ground.
"Gillion, take Miss Vortex to her room please. It looks like she could use some rest. We need her in her most promising state if she is to help us in the next few days."
"Yes Sir," the soldier crisply responded.
As he got up and reached for my form, I tensed up.
"No!" I lashed back. Without registering to my brain, my body moved on its own; no orders, no control, just pure instinct and tolerance to pain.
My legs sunk low into a dragon crouch, and I felt my palms start to itch with unbelievable aching. The soldiers hand immediately lunged for his gun, which he would have drawn, if my leg hadn't collapsed his legs from beneath him. Before the gasp could be expelled from his lungs, my knee was at the base of his throat, the gun from his belt now currently in my hands, aimed and ready to fire straight between his eyes.
Trying to quell the urge to back away and apologize from the bottom of my heart, there was also a part of me that was in control, the part that felt heartless and ruthless, and ready to get me out of any circumstance I happened to find myself in. I felt the soldier shudder beneath me, the feel I'd come to know as fear, and knew he wouldn't be trying to make any sneaky getaway moves anytime soon.
Cautiously lifting my eyes to Sheen, I licked my dry lips. "I have questions. I hope for your sake you can answer them."
A humorous grin pulled at the edge of his mouth, something which caught me by surprise. But in an instant, it was gone and he put on a powerful smile and lifted his chin in authority. "But of course. I expect a woman in your situation would be in search of some answers." He tilted his head to look at the soldier beneath my knee, and raised his chin in an order to release, and after a moment of challenge to show that I could in fact hold my own, I slowly let up.
Keeping the gun close to my body, finger still on the trigger, I backed up a few steps. Flicking my choppy hair over my shoulder, and out of my eyes, I glanced down at Gillion. He was eyeing my carefully, as if to calculate if I was still a threat. Little imp. Of course I am. Just stay out of my way.
My eyes widened. Why would I think such a thing? Hands shaking, I tightened the grip on the gun, feeling the familiar weight, and flicked my eyes back over to Sheen.
He was giving me a full once over. I could tell by his movements and silent calculations that he had certainly changed since I last saw him. That moment, of which, I could not remember for the life of me. He was sizing my abilities up with a calm, calculated look that required ones ADD to be completely cured. It astounded me.
"What happened to you?" I blurted out, without thinking.
His eyes lifted to mine immediately, caught off guard. For a moment, I saw the age of innocence and hurt in his eyes before he blinked and shoved it to the back of his mind. He replaced it with a snarky grin and raised his gloved hand, beckoning me to follow him, as he turned around, his shiny polished boots squeaking against the metal floor.
Hesitating, I glanced down at Gillion, and found he had rolled on to the heels of his feet, rubbing his sore neck where my knee had cut off the oxygen. Then, keeping a far distance, I circled around him, and followed Sheen's retreating dark figure as he passed through the sliding metal doors and into a hallway. I caught up with him, but my attention was elsewhere. I was counting every step, counting every possible door, studying every feature of the hallway, and keeping tally of every one of Sheen's patient breaths, trying to find a weakness in his hard and secluded armor.
From in front of me, he spoke softly, his voice almost sad, "Do you really not remember anything?"
My heart pattered. Wha? Narrowing my eyes at his back, I tried to match his cool as a cucumber attitude. "Only my childhood memories. But those apparently are limited as well." I tried to choose my words carefully. "I remember things happening, but apparently the people I did them with are erased from my memory."
I watched his head nod ever so slightly, as if this was good news for him.
"I remember you," I said boldly.
He stopped, and glanced over his shoulder at me, studying me carefully. "Is that so?" When I nodded a confirmation, he continued, "Well, this must come as a surprise to you then."
"Very," I said softly, my eyes never leaving his.
He stared at me a moment longer, finally grunting in finalization and turned and stalked back down the hallway.
Realizing there was something in Sheen that I knew wouldn't hurt me-at least not yet- I boldly walked up beside him in the hallway. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and grunted again.
"What's the last memory that you remember?" He asked, just up and out in the open.
I hesitated. I honestly didn't know.
Silence filled the hallway, the only sound coming from the pattering of my bare feet, and the graceful clunking of his boots. My mind was whirling a million miles an hour.
"I think…" I said slowly, "when my parents divorced when I was in high school." Something stirred inside me. I remember crying hysterically. I remember denial. I remember running away, driving recklessly in my car to the beach, to the end of the world. I remember standing at the edge of the cliff, watching the waves crashing below. I remember closing my eyes, and listening to the waves beat themselves against the rocks, just as my emotions were beating on my heart. I remember someone yanking me harshly back from the edge. I remember crying into their shoulder. I just couldn't remember their face for the life of me.
Snapping my head back to reality, I cleared my throat.
"I remember you, if that's what you're wondering."
He just smiled at me. "That's not what I was trying to get at at all. I was just curious."
"Then what were you wondering about? Why so curious?" I persisted. A small question formed in the corner of my mind, What if he was working with the people who tortured me? My body became tense as I tried to put the connections together.
Gripping the gun tighter, I tried to quell the urge to throw up. Memories of that cell flashed through my mind; staring at the cold walls, blood dripping down my forehead into my eyes-staining the world a burgundy color, my mind never being able to focus on one thing, a loneliness and sadness beyond anything I'd ever felt.
Luckily, he pulled to a side room, sliding the metal door open with a flick of his hand, and ushered me inside. My instincts warned me that going into a secluded room with a stranger, with an enemy for crying out loud, was wrong and that I could be cautious. But I had to know for sure. The feeling that I had to sacrifice myself to get answers was my mission at the moment, and for some reason I felt that the mission was my life mission at the moment. It felt ingrained in my head. It consumed my thoughts. My very being felt programmed somehow.
The room was a lavished office room, and it seemed strange to see Sheen sitting on a couch, accepting a drink an officer was offering him.
When he finally looked over at me, to find me rooted to the inside of the door, taking in every inch, every dustmite, every piece of fancy fabric.
"Come Cindy, sit down. Let's talk like grownups."
I was insulted. No matter what, I would see him as a child, and I still expected him to act like a child. The fact that he wasn't was throwing me off. Like, way off.
An officer offered me some foul smelling liquid in a glass. I focused on the condensation dripping off the sides of glass, completely absorbed. The officer cleared his throat, and I glanced up at him, remembering the feel of the gun in my hand. I cocked my head at him and then looked over at Sheen.
His expression was of amusement. When I wouldn't take the offered drink, he simply waved the frustrated and rejected soldier away.
"You look terrible," he said carefully.
A muscle in my neck twitched. "That's what happens when someone tortures you. Do you know anything about that?" I searched his face with my eyes, for any sort of indication of guilt or recognition that he might have been involved.
He leaned his head on a hand, smirking at me, the scar across his cheek stretching. "I bet Neutron was the happiest nurse in the world."
At the mention of his name, the back of my neck flared up, and an itchiness rose on my palms. I clenched my fists unconsciously, and crossed one leg over the other, watching him take a drink of his beverage. "I don't think I follow you. Yes, Neutron took care of me, but so did a number of other people, Carl, and a woman named Libby, who apparently used to be my best…" I had to stop.
A look I couldn't describe flooded over his face, and shook me to the core. There was pain, there was anger, humiliation, confusion, and sadness….all showing on his face at the same time.
A long time passed before he spoke again. He finally cleared his throat, and set his drink down. He looked straight at me, straight into my soul. I sat up straighter, my loose grip on the gun tightening even more.
"Did I hear you correctly?" He asked.
I paused.
"Which part exactly?"
"You mentioned a woman. Did I hear you say her name correctly?"
"Libby? Yes. Apparently she and I used to be really close." I looked down at my hands, "I don't remember."
"So she's not dead?"
I glanced up unexpectedly. "Dead? No, she's quite alive."
He leaned back into a half-relaxed position, putting his hand in his hair and running it down his face slowly. The gesture was that of relief, and it came to me as odd for his character.
The weight of the gun gave me boldness. "Is she supposed to be dead?"
His eyes caught aflame, and his expression changed again. Silence filled the air again, and I knew I might have crossed a line. "Yes," he said slowly, "Yes she is. At least that's the last time I saw her…"
Silence again.
"I was taken away, the image of her limp, mangled body….." He closed his eyes tiredly, "her hand was outstretched towards me, beckoning me. Blood was pooling from her stomach." He opened them again. "There was no way she would have survived."
I was silent still, trying to take everything in.
He stood up, anger folding off him in waves. "She almost died that day because of him. Because of him and his stupid experiments!" He threw the glass across the room, the sound of shattering glass, making me go still. Numb. It reminded me of the torture room.
"Neutron had the gall to suck us all into that battle, and look what became of it!" He whirled around. "Libby almost died. You were captured. And I became…" he stared at me, his chest rising and falling heavily, "this."
My head whirled. "What did you say?"
"I'm saying that the day, the day when you were captured by the Armed Society, was the day I realized just how monstrous my best friend was. And now that you don't remember Neutron, this works to my advantage. I need you to help me to take down the Armed Society, and then take out Neutron."
