AN: I apologize for the spelling errors; I am doing my best to correct them but it will be a gradual process. It's good this is a pretty dead fandom, eh? (Grabs a defibrillator. Fails to resurrect the fandom. Sobs... RIP). I don't own H.I.V.E.'s corpse.
665 regained her consciousness but made sure her eyes remained firmly shut and her breathing even. Her head pounded furiously in time to her heartbeat. Her mouth felt drier than the Sahara and there seemed to be opera singers in immediate vicinity. It took her longer than it should have to recognize that there were no singers; it was merely the ringing in her ears. In her defence, there wasn't much difference between the two to begin with. She was lying on something soft and cool air met her face as she was without her mask which tempted her to go back to sleep. An idiot's hand touched her shoulder, which almost made her jump in surprise. That should have been next to impossible for the sneakiest of people. She realized with a flicker of panic that she was displaying human feebleness and that was- without question- impossible. She refused to think of it and instead concentrated on the muffled voices that were slowly becoming more and more apparent.
"Perhaps some more vigorous questioning will be more efficient."
"That's against protocol and you know it," this voice was closer than the first- perhaps it was the idiot touching her.
"Protocols, protocols, protocols. You really do like kissing your uncle's arse, don't you?"
"For the last time, we did not get the job because our uncle happens to be Hendrick." A third person joined the discussion.
"Fine. We shall do it your way, but don't say I didn't tell you it's a waste of time. Call me when you run out of patience."
There were heavy footsteps heading away from her. A door slammed shut. She was safe for now. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes.
"Welcome to the land of the living, Lilia." It was the idiot who spoke.
She blinked against the sudden artificial light. The room had barely enough space for the three people occupying it, but that may have been because of the grand piano parked in the middle and the bed she was currently in. Its walls and floors were all made of yellowish- green concrete with exception of the bright purple mat placed by the bed. There would be no getting out through secret tunnels like in the movies. Not that she'd expected one.
"You really need to hire a decorator," she commented.
"We did. We just made the grave mistake of letting our brother do it."
"Our?"
"Yes, our. Don't you remember me or Harry?"
"I thought UAUP hired intelligent people. Not nutters."
"That's a 'no.'" The man standing by the door said unhelpfully.
Now that the light had no affect on her, she examined the men, checking for weapons. The one closest to her wore jeans and a loose grey hoodie, which concealed a belt holding throwing knives. The one by the door had a tight fitting neon yellow shirt with green fake denim trousers. Presumably that was Harry; not many people could have such a bad sense of fashion. He had a pistol. And coincidently, they were also her targets. She sat up and was hit by a major wave of dizziness.
"Yeah, definitely more than enough power for the Net, Patrick. The fuss was pointless," Harry commented unnecessarily. Why were these guys just throwing out names? 665 wondered.
"Hey, you were the one fussing. Not me."
"Don't try to rewrite history. You know what you did."
Patrick sighed, "can we just focus on our sister?"
"He surrenders," Harry turned to 665, "don't get too bold. We don't need you passing out again."
"So..." Patrick started. He sounded slightly hurt, "You don't remember us. Like, at all?"
"Should I?" 665 asked icily. These pleasantries were getting suspicious and, hence, annoying. Her words caused both of the men to look down.
"We should get Chris in here after all," Harry murmured. Patrick recoiled in shock.
"What?" He exclaimed, "You want Chris to get his hands on Lilia? Are you mad? He'll start beating her within an inch of her life! He'd kill her if it wouldn't get him fired!"
"He'll get fired if he doesn't try a civilized interrogation first, and we are in no state to do even that. Besides, after what happened with Anna, I doubt he would try anything."
"Or you could just play that damned piano to mess with her poor ears like you did to me." Patrick suggested before telling 665, "y'know I didn't even deserve it. All I did was make a teensy innuendo joke to Anna. It just proves how protective Harry is as a boyfriend."
"I'd shut it, if I were you. As long as I leave you able to function, I will not get any form of punishment for beating you up." Harry's cheeks had adopted a dark red.
"Fine."
The two left the room in unison. That had been a very interesting exchange. Apparently, those fools thought she was their sister, made this Net thing and had just left her unguarded. Then again, she felt too weak to do much and the chain on her ankle didn't help. She sighed but resigned herself to the fact she was not going anywhere soon, and so she may as well use this time wisely. She went over the conversation in her head. That Net had to be what was dropped on her in that ditch. And so, logically, she should be thinking about that as it had the most effect and was the greatest unknown. But she found her mind wondering to the first words directed at her. Welcome to the land of the living, Lilia. She remembered that phrase... But from where? And her mask...
"You were out for longer than anticipated," the voice that dragged her to the present was much harsher than the Blake's, "it was very time consuming and boring waiting for you to wake up, so refrain from zoning out again and speaking. Luckily for you, I cannot go straight in with torture, so you have a chance to save yourself pain. I think." 665 could hear his disappointment.
"What do you mean 'you think'?"
"What did I say about talking?" The man- Chris, she figured- bellowed. There was a pause, "I don't know if it hurts. But torture will definitely be agony."
He leaned over and grabbed something unseen from the wall behind her head. The Net. She must have let something on her face show because he grinned.
"Scared of this, pet?"
"Pet?"
"Oh, for fuck's sake," he muttered, grabbing masking tape and cuffs from his belt. He restrained her hands and put tape over her lips. He continued, "it's nothing, really. It just stops you being a freak when it is within range. You get reduced to us mere humans. Disgusting, isn't it? I'm fairly sure you know what the Neurobiological Interference Drug (NID) is. It allows me to extract memories and make my victim relive them."
665's eyes widened. She had found herself curious about her past since this operation had begun. She didn't know what to expect and she didn't sure if she wanted to know of her history. Sometimes the truth was best kept hidden. The NID was injected into her bloodstream and it made her feel ten times colder. Half her mind felt numb and the other half too alert, which she knew was nonsensical. Minds couldn't be felt; they were abstract.
"This is a test," Chris whispered into her ear, "what are your parent's names?"
Nothing came. How could it when she didn't know?
"Interesting... How about Patrick and Harrison Blake?"
Out of focus memories came an went as sudden and fast as lightning bolts. Her getting her assignment. The earlier conversation. She relived in seconds anything that contained those people. But it was enough to break Lenny's mental barrier he created when she was changed. Some recollections were a lot clearer than others and with the overwhelming speed she only made out the first two before giving up.
"Guess what I got you?" Patrick asked three year old Lilia as he entered her room.
"Hey," she scolded, "no boys are allowed."
"Oh, okay then. I guess you don't want this gigantic, delicious chocolate, then."
After chasing him to the living room, Lilia tackled her brother to the ground. Or, more accurately, she held onto his legs and he pretended to fall over.
"Why are you so mean?" She asked as her tiny fingers failed to prise the chocolate bar from his hand.
"Technically, I am being very, very nice. After all, I wouldn't want my darling little sister to get diabetes."
"Di... dia...diabeets?" She struggled to pronounce this strange, foreign word.
"Di- a- bee- tes," Harrison helped from across the room, half of his face covered in chocolate.
"What is it?"
"It's when you've eaten so much sugar, you are not allowed to eat any more."
Lilia gasped, horrified.
"You have it!" She exclaimed, getting off of Patrick and sprinting out of the room.
"So, they have better defences, offences, skills and practise. What does this tell you?" Harrison asked Patrick as five year old Lilia watched from the door.
"Uh... I'm screwed and am about to lose this bet?"
"No," she said, "that attitude is exactly how you lose. Try again."
"I'm going to kick your sorry behind, Harry."
"Good. And whilst you were arguing, the game finished."
"What?" Both brothers shrieked. Sure enough, when they looked at the TV screen, the football was over and an American reality TV program was on.
"Lilia..."
"Nope, not telling. Guess who's got the money as well."
They looked to the table. The money was gone. But also missing was-
"Fluffball!" Patrick screamed.
"The dog took it," Lilia informed them.
This was going to be a long night, as (despite being nearly fifteen) Patrick's pink stuffed rabbit was his most prized possession.
About three hours later, Fluffball was found ripped to shreds. And it was only then Patrick realized they didn't have a dog, much to his siblings' amusement.
She didn't believe it for an instant. She would've known immediately if the Blake's truly were her brothers. That was not the kind of thing she would forget, even after going through the process that had turned her into this thing that was her now. Especially if they were as close as the blurred 'memories' made them out to be. This was all just a sick, fucked up joke and she was not going to fall for it. She wouldn't let herself write a cheque life wouldn't allow her to cash.
"UAUP," Chris whispered into her ear, poking for a more relevant memory once he was satisfied the NID was functioning properly.
The whirlwind of images were a lot shorter this time. Just her getting her assignment, terrorising people to give her information on the organisation, the tunnel and this.
"You are not as dangerous as people make you out to be, are you? At least, not when this is here," Chris taunted while holding up the Net. "This just proves that you have got to work to get to the top, as I did. Not get some steroids to do the work for you. In most cases, I would kill you right now. I would be forgiven, in time. But it seems we have a common interest."
"What could I possibly have in common with you?"
"A target. Or, to be exact, targets. I will let you go if you kill the Blakes."
"How do I know if I only have your word that you will stick to your side of the deal?"
"You don't."
"Switch off the Net."
"Once you're out of the room."
Lilia snorted, "coward."
"I am not, you arrogant prick."
"Yeah, right."
"Fine."
"Anything to heal your ego."
Chris made a low, growling noise but kept his promise, "don't make me regret this."
665 would've known if the Net had been turned off even if she didn't see Chris flip the switch. She felt power surge through her body and her thoughts and sight were a lot clearer. As Chris released her ankle (even though she was perfectly capable of it now), she debated keeping him alive. She decided against it; never let anyone live if they've seen your face. It was one of the first things she learnt at the Glasshouse.
She tapped his shoulder and he whipped around to face her. He was met with a punch to his face. He raised his fists in a fruitless attempt to defend himself. He countered the first few of her well practised, swift blows but quickly grew tired. She smirked- he was such an easy target. She knocked him to the floor with a fluid movement.
"How's your ego now?" She asked as she reached down to crush his windpipe. He made a desperate, choked noise before going completely limp; dead.
As she was assessing her situation and possible ways out of the room, the door opened. She hadn't counted on that happening, but she didn't mind. It made her life easier. There were the two people that were in her cell earlier and another man. He was unarmed and relaxed but buissness- like. An execution party? Well, they would have to do better than that.
She knelt down by Chris.
"Freeze!" Harrison yelled.
She took a gun out of his pocket, unseen by the other men. She briefly wondered why he hadn't used it on her.
"You have five seconds to freeze or we will shoot you!"
Five seconds was all she needed. She spent a split second checking the ammunition- six bullets. She revealed the gun to them before shooting both Patrick and Harrison in the chest. They fell, dead before they hit the floor. She turned to the other man.
"Put down your weapon," he ordered softly.
"Sure," she agreed, "only after I kill you. Head or heart, your choice. But either way, I have the control."
"Do you really think we only have one switch for the Net?"
She felt her energy drain as he turned it back on. She reached for the switch Chris had to find it gone. She looked at the man questioningly.
"Look who has control now."
For some reason she couldn't fathom, she felt herself beginning to loose consciousness. But she didn't really mind; she had done what she needed to do.
She was lying in a hospital bed, gradually waking up after an operation to remove her tonsils. Her throat felt dry from breathing in the gas used to knock her out. She moaned softly.
"Welcome to the land of the living, Lilia." Patrick said, handing her a glass of water. She practically inhaled it.
"Careful," Harrison told her, "drink or eat too fast and you'll be sick."
"But my throat..." She complained.
"Look on the bright side," Patrick said, "ice cream for dinner."
"Really?" She checked, an expression of pure delight in her face.
"Really," he confirmed.