Act Fifteen – Interlude: Waking Darkness
'The first thing I realized was that I could not see. I was bound, it was quiet, but then I had something hindering my hearing. I believe there was a low-oscillating frequency in the background to dull it. Although… I cannot be sure if I was really bound or if I simply could not move my body.'
"Roger?" my voice sounds small, and pathetic, even to my own ears. I must be inside somewhere very large. And empty, there is an echo.
"The Negotiator isn't here," that voice… the same voice from the phone. It sounds familiar, but I can't quite put my finger on it. "Does that disturb you?"
Not the same voice on the phone, but… close. "Where is Roger?"
Another voice, from slightly farther away this time. Colder, some, and thickly accented, "Oh why do yah bother with her?"
Silence.
Beck.
Why is Beck here, wherever here is? Where am I? Soldano has not attempted to recover me since the destruction of Dorothy II, and my father…
My father is dead.
So why take me now?
"Call it a bit of lingering sentimentality."
"Come on, red," the word sticks in my mind. It is not Angel who is with him? "It's probably better if you just scrapped her like we planned to begin with."
There is a noise and Beck snorts, and goes silent. I wonder how many other people are in this place I am in. And then I feel it. A small, delicate hand, identical to my own, placed on my cheek. "I can't give you Roger," it slips down to my shoulder and tightens, as only an android's hand can, and I feel my pseudo-skin straining under the pressure. "But I'll be sure to take good care of him."
I can certainly say that I am afraid now. I do not recall ever having been afraid, not for myself. For my father, perhaps, but that was a short-lived fear. He was shot and killed too quickly for much fear to come into my conscious.
But this voice, the determination… and the strength of the fingers that are puncturing my pseudo-skin at the joint of my shoulder with machine-like precision… what harm will I bring Roger now?