Ky blinked slowly, staring at his own blood, mesmerized. He wasn't sure how long he stared at his open knuckles, but his eyes soon began to explore the foreign area around him. His fingers were outstretched across a dirty white floor. There were strange black stains near him that were either pits or scuffs left by the sole of someone's shoe. While he stared at these marks, his mind began to waken further as well, and his mind was full of confused questions.
His eyes rose from the floor to a faded green door a short length in front of him. If he dared to reach out just a bit further, he would be able to touch its cold metal surface. The base of it had a few of those black marks. It was then Ky began to notice this was a cell. A cell.
He winced with the back of his eyes burning in their sockets and a few more various places. The more he moved, other parts of his body began to ache, too. "Damn." He swung his head around, squinting lightly as his eyes took in the white room. It was small but not cramped. There was dust in the air and coated in a thin film across the floor. The pads of his fingers touched it. He dragged his hands towards his body, leaving five long streaks across the floor before he slowly lurched upright with his legs folded under him. The movement only triggered more pain in his poor damaged leg. It hurt even worse than before.
He groaned lowly while he placed a hand upon his knee in a vain attempt to ease it before he began staring at his bleeding knuckles again, trying to recall the cause of their damage. And still, nothing came.
He drew a hand closer to his face until he was staring at the cuts across his flesh again, then picked his head up. He looked at the metal door in front of him as if it had the answers he wanted.
Where am I?
The answer came much later as he sat in the cell like the criminal he was.
He was nearly in a doze, sitting upright against the wall, with his legs outstretched before him when someone finally approached the door. At first, he thought it was a dream, but he quickly learned it was another part of his waking nightmare. He opened his eyes as soft footsteps began to approach the heavy metal door that kept him locked away from the world he had left behind. His ears tuned to the muffled sounds, listening carefully as he could as the footsteps paused before the door, then announced the owner's arrival with a snap of the lock sliding back into the door in a harsh sound that nearly rattled his brain. He looked up from under his brows and hair as the door slid open to reveal a dark brown-haired man perhaps a few inches shorter than his own height. He looked somewhere in his thirties. He wore a familiar white coat, an image that sat in the back of Ky's mind left with that tainted past, but the man under that coat wasn't familiar.
He stared at him and waited.
The man took a few more steps inside but kept his distance. He stood across from him and near the comforts of the door behind him.
"Where am I?" Ky asked him. His tone was dull.
"A home away from home," the man said. "For now. How are you feeling?"
Ky furrowed his brows at the man while he squinted at the same time. "I've been better to tell you the truth. How did I get here?"
By then, the dark-haired man moved towards him and stopped in front of him. He quieted any more of his questions by bending down and placing his hands on his knees as he said, "Slow down first. I can help you. Are you in any pain by chance?"
Ky slowly brought a hand to his head, burying his fingers through his hair. He winced lightly as his fingers triggered pain on his sensitive skull. "Where doesn't it hurt?"
Then, the dark-haired man reached a hand into a pocket of his white coat. "Then let me help you with that. It's why I'm here in the first place." He pulled a strange instrument out of his pocket and drew it towards Ky. He withdrew quickly as he stared back at a fine needle aimed at him while the back of his skull hit the wall behind him. Despite the pain, he kept his eyes on the threatening instrument. It came at him again, but this time, he couldn't avoid it. The long and fine needle imbedded itself in Ky's half exposed neck.
And then he faded, only to wake in another nightmare.
He opened his eyes to the sound of voices and the presence of men around him like animals circling him, but when he opened his eyes, he didn't see menacing faces staring down on him, only shadows and silhouettes. His eyes darted from each figure he could make out. He was in a new room this time, taller, larger. It was dark. It didn't feel like the cold cell, but he knew it wasn't a safe place. He didn't like it one bit, and he didn't like the people around him. He estimated at least five or six of them.
"He's waking up now," he heard one say.
Ky listened to the uneasy shifting of the figures around him. And as they began to move, so did he. But movement didn't come easy. He felt a restriction against his wrists, legs, hips, and pulled.
Straps. Dear God—
"Who are you?" he weakly asked the shadows in the room with him.
"Nevermind that," a male voice responded in the dimness of the room. Ky turned his eyes towards the source, or at least where he thought it originated. "We just need you to answer a few questions. Can you do that? It's simple, really."
"What do you want from me?" Ky asked.
"Some questions answered. I told you."
Ky blinked at a shadow after he had pinpointed its location. The man was a few paces away, tall and lean. Ky couldn't make out any details of him, just like the others. They were all faceless. It made them look like phantoms. But there was something about the tall man standing in the room with him. He stood out from the others. Ky felt his eyes on him, eyes he couldn't see. It made Ky even more uncomfortable.
"What do you want then?" Ky said. "What do you want to know?"
The shadowed man took a few steps closer, taking his position near Ky's shoulder and placed his hands behind his back in a militant stance. He arched his back slightly but didn't come too close to the clone as if he were peering down on a coiled viper. He was lucky the viper was restrained—
"Remarkable," the shadowed man said as he looked on at him closer in the dark. "You remind me of someone I've seen."
That made Ky even more uncomfortable. He knew who he meant and he said nothing to the comment. It would only make his situation worse.
"Do you know who I'm talking about?" the shadowed man asked him.
Ky didn't take his eyes off this man nor did he answer. Of course he knew damn well who he was talking about. What did this man take him for? And he had a feeling this man knew, too.
"Well?" the man said impatiently, trying to thread through Ky's silence. "Not answering? This makes me think you know something about him then."
"What are you trying to get out of me?" Ky eventually said. "If I knew something, I would tell you."
The shadowed man laughed then, nearly spitting on Ky as he stood up straight. He kept his hands locked behind his back. "I think I do. Does the name Ky Kiske sound familiar to you?"
That silence returned to Ky's lips once more for a while as his aching head struggled to make sense of the entire situation. And then,
"You think I'm him then?" he suggested.
Again, the shadowed man laughed. A light spray of spittle touched his cheek this time. He turned his head, wanting to wipe it away, but couldn't. If only—
"No, no, not quite," the man said. "But you look remarkably like him. That's a concern, don't you know that?"
He narrowed his eyes at the man. "I see. I think I know where I am now. Where is he? I thought he was more just than this. Now that is remarkable."
The man laughed again, but this time Ky's cheek remained dry. Thank God.
"What's so funny?" Ky said. He nearly growled it, but held it back.
He listened to a short lived length of silence between them as the shadowed man studied him. For a moment, Ky began to see only the two of them in the room as if he had gained a case of tunnel vision. The others no longer existed nor did they matter to him.
"You're clever," the shadowed man said. Ky thought he was grinning. And the way he was grinning was the grin of a weasel.
"Just like him?" Ky said with venom in his tone.
That grin again.
"I have a feeling you know Kiske," he said. "Or will you laugh at that, too?"
"Know Kiske? If I only had the privilege. I think you are the closest thing I will ever be to him."
Ky paused a moment to gather his next thoughts carefully. "I thought you said you had seen him before. How close were you?"
"Sir Kiske is not a man you pass on the street everyday like so many others," the shadowed man said. "If only that were the case. But you—"
"What about me?" he asked immediately but not eager in his words.
"It's not the same but it would have to do," the man said with a light chuckle.
Ky frowned. "No. I am not Kiske. I just look like him." He bit his lower lip then. Was that too much?
The shadowed man placed his hands behind his back again. He then felt the man's piercing eyes on him even though he couldn't see them. It felt like being watched by an eagle waiting to swoop down on him and catch him in its relentless talons.
"Hmm, you're right," the man said. "Kiske is much different than you. I merely suggested." He paused a long moment, watching him. Then he said: "You fought during the war. Do you remember what the Gears smelled like?" He listened to him inhale the air. "Do you?"
"I do. Most of the time."
"Did some ever take your breath away? Do you remember the smell? Sometimes they'd smell like decay, like death. It would follow them." The man took half a step closer, nearly leaning over him. "I smell a Gear."
Ky's eyes widened in the dark.
"But it's not entirely you," the man said. "It's following you, like that smell always does when you've been too close to a Gear for a while. You never noticed it?"
A game, he thought. He's trying to play some sort of game with me. He wants something out of me. That's all it is!
He stared at his dark form carefully a moment before saying, "I must have gotten used to it."
The man chuckled. "That's right," he said. "You've been around Gears more than I have. But you would think it would go away after all this time. Perhaps it never will. Shame, isn't it?"
"It doesn't bother me," Ky said flatly.
"Of course it doesn't."
"What do you mean by that?" Ky said, narrowing his eyes.
"I believe the smell will never go away," the man said. "It will always follow you."
A short silence lingered. "This is all I need to hear from you. What is the true reason why I'm here?"
The figure shifted. "Hmm, might as well. There's no point beating around the bush. The point is—we could use your help—in understanding."
"Understanding? Understanding what?"
"Gears."
Then, the shadowed man raised a hand from his side and snapped his fingers. Ky watched, but it was the others around him he had put behind him he should have been watching. One moved closer to him at his right, and then Ky felt a sharp sting bite at the side of his neck. He flinched but another held him still as he felt it again. He screamed.
"This will only be an observation," he heard the shadowed man say.
It wasn't long before Ky began to feel light-headed. It was like before with the man he met in the other room, but these people wanted to do more than sedate him.
Victor Zennos studied the aging monitor connecting him with the Gear clone while his hands were linked behind his back. The black and white image gave it an ageless appearance to it as if it had been dug from an ancient archive, but what was happening behind that monitor was happening in the now.
He drew his face a bit closer to the monitor after he began to notice some movement from the clone, although he couldn't tell if he was fully conscious or not yet. Nor did it matter. He could send one of the scientists to check on him if there was ever a problem.
Zennos' well-trained ears then alerted him when the door opened and in stepped a dark brown-haired man at least half his age, decked in a white lab coat. Jonathan Breke, he was called, closed the door behind him and walked to him. He held himself well. Perhaps there was more than research training in this man. Something burned in his hazel eyes.
"Still watching the subject?" he asked. "Anything yet?"
Without turning his head, Zennos looked at the younger man through the corner of his eyes. "Matter of fact, I am. I saw him moving a little. That's it. I think he's got another hour."
The young scientist looked at the monitors. His hazel eyes searched the small cluster until they found the one he wanted. He sidestepped the retired soldier to get a closer look at the clone. Zennos wasn't sure if it was because of his seniority or the fact of his military history, but this one respected him since he had met him. He knew the boundaries. He was smart. Zennos liked him.
Zennos placed his hands to his sides while Breke watched the subject briefly. The dark-haired man put his fist under his chin thoughtfully. "It should start to kick in soon," he said. He then cast his eyes to Zennos. "You don't mind me staying here, do you? I've got to see this. For the records." He turned his head back to the monitor that watched the clone and tapped a finger over the thick glass with a single finger.
"Have a seat. I heard this might get interesting. Right?" He grinned.
It took a little more than an hour for it to fully begin, and the result, as they had hoped, did prove interesting. Most importantly, it was going as planned. But a seasoned soldier like Victor Zennos knew not everything went as planned. He was still holding his breath, even after witnessing what had happened behind monitor #15. Breke looked awed and shocked.
Zennos himself still couldn't bring himself to look away from the monitor. It was the sort of fascination you got from watching an explosion. He thought nothing could surprise him anymore, especially a Gear, but this time was different. Zennos had never seen anything like him, either shape or form. He knew this whole plan was going against the Gear's original purpose, but then again, he was already through. He was proven to be officially ruined by time, war and the Gears themselves.
There was no great loss.
He had one last purpose now. Then he was no good to them anymore. It would be the last of him. It would be the last of the failure.
"Is he moving?" Breke said, finally breaking the silence in the room. It would have made Zennos jump.
The military man looked at Breke, then to the monitor and drew himself a bit closer to the image. He narrowed his eyes on the dark being they had been watching for the past few hours. "I think he is," he said. "Just a little." He kept his eyes on the Gear, watching a light twitching. He then turned to Breke with a grin on his face. "Will it be you or me, Breke?"
The younger man looked at him with those hazel eyes flashing. "Of course they can't expect to send one of us in there."
Zennos grinned again, wider his time. "You went the first time."
"Funny. That was different."
Zennos couldn't help but laugh. He then dug a hand into his side pocket and pulled out a coin placed between his fingers to Breke. "Heads to tails?"
The dark-haired man looked up at him from under his brows. "You're kidding me."
Zennos then drew the coin into the palm of his hand and closed his fist around it. "Alright, we'll let them decide. Now, let someone knew it was a success." His eyes slowly returned to the monitor again.
It was Jonathan Breke who was chosen to check on the Gear. Lucky him. He was starting to feel a wash a dread as he walked down the hall towards the holding cell where they kept the Gear locked away. If it was fully awake now, what would keep it from killing him in a bloody rage? What did he have to protect him? He doubted the sedative would do much of anything now. Besides, he didn't want to get that close to the Gear again. Not now.
He slowed his steps further to the pace of an old man, trying to distance himself the best he could. He was at half the length of the hallway to the cell. His heart was already pounding. He was almost there.
Afraid? Of a Gear?
He heard something click behind him. The sound ricocheted off the walls and suddenly found its way into his ears. It sounded like it was directly behind him. Jonathan's heart climbed up into his throat and he snapped his head over his shoulder. What he saw was no monster his mind made him to expect, but he still jumped at the sight of it. Towards the end of the hall, two figures stood in the white and blue garbs of the discarded Sacred Order, heads ducked and feet parted. A long white blade was held at each of their sides.
"Shit," Jonathan muttered under his breath after noticing them. "Following me with those damned robots now, Zennos?" He shook his head and resumed down the hall. As he moved again, he heard the two robots following him in their dry pace—just as he expected. He looked over his shoulder a few times to glance at the two mechanical soldiers, not partially excited about their tag-along. What if they only irritated the Gear?
I get stuck in the middle of it, he said to himself.
Complain as he will, at least he had something, even if it meant by artificial means. Maybe the Gear would center on the machines instead of him if it did decide to attack.
His eyes turned up, watching the numbers labeling the doors count up until the dreaded number 15 appeared. By then, Jonathan's footsteps fell short. He stared at the door like it were the door to hell. The footfalls of the robots stopped, too. He turned his head to see the two standing in front of the wall directly behind him, as if they were planning to charge for the door. It wasn't very comforting.
"Alright, as long as you're watching," he said, addressing more than the robots.
He then faced the door again. His eyes scanned it up and down before he forced himself to dig out the key to it.
He slid the door open as quietly as he could, and what was left in the room was a completely different being than he last saw here in person. Jonathan's hair stood on ends and he felt his heart pounding thickly while he watched the dark Gear. He felt like he had just stepped into the lair of a dragon. Before, it had been a cell, and the Gear had been human, if not for those terrible red eyes.
He squeezed the edge of the door he held so tightly to. He couldn't bring himself to move away from the door, fearing the Gear would hear him.
Well, his mind told him, you're going to have to let go of it eventually.
Knowing the faster he was through with the Gear, the faster he could get out of here, he broke his eyes from the dark creature on the floor momentarily and jerked his hand from the edge of the heavy door. He looked down on it and saw a white line across his palm where he had been holding onto the door to keep it from sliding closed, just in case. It looked like a callouses.
He didn't stare at it very long. What was lying on the floor a few steps away was far more important. The blood would return. His eyes shot to the menacing figure the second he reminded himself of its presence. He could hear it breathing.
Like a sleeping dragon, he thought.
He looked at the doorway behind him then on the dark Gear. What would keep the beast from attacking him? Was it even aware of him, just waiting for the right moment? How close was close enough to get to it? Would it remember him?
He licked his lips then looked up at the aging camera watching them from the corner of the ceiling. He hoped Zennos was watching. And those damned robots.
He sighed silently and focused on the Gear again before he dared himself to step closer. He moved as if he were stepping around a layer of glass and he were barefooted. The closer he got, the harder his heart pounded. He had never been so close to a Gear like this before, a live one at least, and he was looking down on it.
Could Gears smell fear like animals could?
He listened to his own heart in his ears as he looked over the Gear. He would have easily dismissed the idea that this wasn't the same being he had met a few hours ago, but it was. His own eyes had been witness. And here he was up close and personal. But the Gear was more dangerous now. There was no humanity left. There were a few hints of its former self remaining—if one looked close enough.
After studying the Gear briefly, Jonathan turned towards the camera watching him like a spider on the wall, and made a circle with his index finger and thumb. As he did so, he caught a movement at the corner of his eye. The Gear was now aware of him. The last thing he knew, he saw large twisted teeth coming at him. And then, he felt warm blood gushing from his neck.
Those eyes, those terrible eyes—