Chapter 22

Kazana has lived factionless her entire life, having been found by the rebels who strive to live without the faction system she becomes their new secret weapon. The plan is clear, choose dauntless, pass initiation, infiltrate the system, but what can she do when a certain leader sees through her façade? AU No War, One year after Tris' initiation.

A/N: I just want to make clear now that Tris and the others will be following a similar story to Allegiant behind the scenes. This is still focusing on Kazana and Eric. Thank you to those who have followed/favourited/reviewed so far. Only 4 more chapters remain if all goes to plan.

I know many of you will have thoughts and questions after this chapter so please share them with me, 10 reviews and I update.

Disclaimer: I do not own Divergent, or a fountain pen. The ink always gets all over my hands.

Each breath was a sharp, heavy gust that punctured her lungs, the air felt too clean, too refined. A dull ache resided further down, somewhere in her core but all that could be seen through the blurred blue haze was tubes of fluid. Running in, running out and faceless faces staring down with voices that came through muffled masks.

"Up the suction, she's going to bleed out."

"HR looks stable, I need more pressure on the abdomen, it's embedded in the right lower quadrant."

Every inhale sounded with an amplified whoosh, as though she were lying in a wind tunnel. An unpleasant suction worked against her mouth, hard plastic that led in to rubber wires. The tips of her fingers and toes twitched with awareness as panic began to set in. Arms clad in swarthy blue sheets held Kazana down as the struggle ensued.

"She's coming to, increase the gas."

Kaz caught the faint scent of vanilla as a pair of golden brown eyes gazed down at her, wide and crinkled at the edges. Rounded cheeks were lifted in what might have been a smile had the mouth not proved hidden.

"Don't worry," she murmured "it'll all be over soon."

Three days later

Nothing had gone according to plan; the compound was left in complete disarray. A majority of the Dauntless had returned, having been left with little other alternative and the bond with Erudite remained strong although undoubtedly damaged.

To his own surprise, Eric had managed to cut himself off completely from any emotional ties that might make him a liability as a leader. He was numb, cold and entirely driven with the need to succeed and stamp out the problem. Emergency supplies, food, clothing and weapons had been gathered to support the soldiers in their attempt to regain normality.

Though Sloane held the title of leader it was Eric that all looked to for instruction, a way forward. He gave them just that and despite the plan being solid, wary eyes followed his large form as he stalked through the shadowed corridors. Some were even brave enough to voice their queries.

"So…we're looking for their leader?"

"Leaders, Amity are now suspect as well," Eric drawled.

They often remained silent before their next question, deep in contemplation as they wondered whether to risk their necks.

"Are you sure you want us to kill her?"

His cold stare would slide to them then, causing an icy shudder to run down their spine. He'd hold the stare for as long as he pleased, and in those few moments it was as though he were picking them apart, tearing them to shreds with sharp eyes.

"Why wouldn't I be?" he'd return dangerously.

"I-I d-"

It never lasted longer than that, Eric was already gone.

Two months ago

Her trip to the Factionless district that morning had been short and sweet; she divulged the necessary information and continued to ignore the feeling of discomfort that gnawed at her conscience.

Three days without a word from the Dauntless leader had left her questioning his absence, Kazana told herself the worry was purely for her own people and she'd taken the first train out of the compound to ensure they were safe.

On her return, it was widely discussed that Eric had come back and, if possible, in a fouler mood than when he'd left. Instinct led her with soft catlike steps to their old training room; she pried the stone away and slid through the narrow gap.

Dim lights cast his menacing shadow on to the vertical surface, a stalking projection, but he otherwise remained hidden from view. Kaz approached cautiously, the crunching of glass beneath her boot alerted him to her presence, and made clear just how destructive his mood currently was.

"What happened?"

Silver eyes glinted in the darkness, his voice gruffer than usual.

"Surveillance on the Factionless has been destroyed, third time this month."

It came as no surprise to her; she had after all issued the command that no camera be left intact.

She could hear his breaths falling heavily in the tense quiet, awaiting a response that would patronize him to no end and cause another inevitable fight. There was rarely a middle ground on the rare occasions that they found themselves together.

Everything was borne from a desperate craving, a need to access each other in their rawest state. Whether it be searing anger or desire, all that they had, and were, was extreme.

Kaz was in no mood to fight, in fact his tangible vexation made her unusually playful. But then, she'd always enjoyed playing with fire.

"So you decided to take it out on the shelves?" she brushed away a littering of shards and came to stand before him. He was visible to her now, but only just, and twisted excitement pulsed through her veins as she rested a palm on his chest. "That's quite a waste in here, don't you think?"

Reaching behind him to withdraw a sharp blade brought them in to taunting proximity, Kazana didn't move away. She stood on her tiptoes and delighted in the delicious breaths that fell against her jaw, it would have been easy to close the distance then. He eyed her suspiciously when she pressed the knife in to his palm and smiled wickedly.

"You wanted to vent," Kaz hummed against his ear, "So vent."

"What are you-" he stopped when she backed in to one of the targets and regarded him expectantly. "No."

She laughed, "Oh come on, we do it all the time!"

"Not when I could take your head off we don't."

Her eyed widened comically, "Are you saying…you can't do it?"

Eric's jaw clenched, his grip tightening on the blade's handle.

"This requires restraint, which I don't currently have."

Kazana remained stoic, gazing over at him with complete trust, her voice was a bare murmur when she replied, "Then calm down."

He exhaled sharply, turning the weapon once, twice in his hand before a slow smirk graced his features.

"If I didn't know better Little Bat, I'd say you have serious issues," he flicked a switch and the entirety of the room was illuminated, as was the extent of damage he'd inflicted on the place.

She quirked a brow at the array of paintballs that had been smashed in to the ground, his black attire marred with rainbow stains. "I could say the same for you."

His first throw was impulsive, careless and landed a way away from her thigh; she snorted and mimicked the tone he'd often used with the new initiates.

"Well that was pathetic."

"Would you rather it was your mouth?" he sneered.

"I'd say yes but I'm not sure you could throw that far," she teased, eyes glittering with mirth.

His own gaze narrowed with the challenge, moments passed in silence and Kazana had been ready with another retort when a second knife sliced through the air towards her head. She was unable to contain a gasp as it landed directly beside her temple.

"Ah, ah, no flinching," he warned, lips upturned in a dark smile.

"I don't remember agreeing to that rule," she grumbled

"It doesn't matter," he smirked, "I'm the boss."

Kazana shook her head with barely concealed amusement but gestured for the next throw. Eric regarded her with perverse excitement, the cool steel resting against his jaw.

The blade trembled with the impact as it landed directly between her thighs, a hairsbreadth away from her womanhood. She released a terrified squeak much to her humiliation and his smile widened predatorily.

With an indignant huff, Kaz wrenched the knife from its target and threw the weapon at Eric's infuriating face. He ducked just in time and the impulsive action only served to fuel his mirth, his shoulders shook with a sinister chuckle.

"If we could avoid castration, that would be greatly appreciated," she snarled, though her lips twitched with an irresistible grin.

Kazana marched over to smack him, he caught her wrist easily but she was already lurching up with her knee. A large palm grasped her thigh mid-air and Kaz was sent ungraciously to the floor, his impending form was already pinning her down when she tried to escape.

"You really should invest in some new moves Little Bat."

One flailing hand caught him in the jaw and her face broke in to a triumphant smile. His eyes darkened at the blow and suddenly both her arms were pulled taut overhead as he grasped them in one palm.

"Watch it," he growled in warning.

"That's what happens when you leave for three days without a word."

"Miss me?" he taunted.

"Actually we were running low on food, I missed your income."

His grip tightened, fingertips dug punishingly in to the flesh of her wrists.

"Probably a good thing," he murmured against her neck, his free hand coming down to pinch her hip. "These are starting to feel quite generous."

Kazana inhaled largely through her nose and increased her struggle, hips bucking upwards to throw him off. The attempt only excited him further however, Eric's grey eyes were dilated to dark orbs and his heavily muscled form kept her pressed firmly in to the ground.

He dragged his hand teasingly down to the waistband of her trousers and flicked his thumb softly over her fabric clad clit. She gasped, moving in to the touch unwittingly, he inclined his head to brush a hot tongue teasingly along her collarbone.

Deft fingers worked on the button of her pants and they were ripped down in one rough motion, a vicious opposition to the warm palm pushing up her vest. Hot kisses left a scorching trail down the bare flesh of her stomach, his long fingers stroked over the damp fabric covering her core.

"So you did miss me," his warm breaths left gooseflesh against her hipbone.

Kazana growled in frustration and wiggled against the fierce hold that encased her wrists, Eric used his free hand to beckon her hips upward and she omitted a low moan as he dragged her skimpy knickers down her thighs with his teeth.

Any protests she might have had died in her throat when his skilled mouth encouraged cries of an entirely different kind.

Present

An acrid taste felt bitter in Kaz's mouth when she awoke, every limb carried a deep rooted ache that had her groaning. She opened her eyes but it took long, disillusioned moments to really see, the room spun in a blur of white.

A high pitched noise sounded excruciatingly in her ears, she looked around in panicked desperation for the source but found none. The pain was solely her own, her stomach lurched with acidic nausea as her eyes landed on multiple tubes threaded in to her forearms.

Kazana ripped them out without a second thought, wincing at the sharp sensation and hissed as the impact of sitting up sent white hot agony pulsing through her abdomen. She was clad in a light blue gown, shimmying up the material revealed a wide patch taped to her pale flesh. Kaz tore the material away; her skin had been knitted together with delicate thread and left an angry red scar right across her torso.

The sight was strangely familiar; memories of a similar wound came to her in a dizzied haze. Eric. Their scars were almost identical, the idea would have been almost amusing had she not then found her mind assaulted with the sudden visions. Cain had been the one to cut him, the intention of his blade was fatal…and they had fought, at the Dauntless compound.

Before she was shot, and they escaped and…Jeanine Matthews was dead.

Had Tori escaped too? Was she on their side?

Their 'side' had become as blurred as her narrowed sight, the betrayal hit her with vicious tenacity.

Sophie.

Dark eyes scanned the surrounding room, it gave away nothing. The walls were almost disconcerting in their blankness and all that existed besides her simple bed was a lonely chair perched in the furthest corner. She was aware of an extensive passing of time but not of its exactness. Days? Weeks?

Crossing over to a single square window, each movement felt weighed down with her languid limbs. Her heart pounded in her chest and the haze cleared abruptly, she soaked in the sight of a tall black gate, the ends speared outwards as though warning off intruders.

A sudden buzz sounded from behind the glass, the gate opened and a truck with blacked out windows edged on through. She took little notice, focusing purely on the large plaque that had come in to view. Bureau of-

"Ah! You're awake!"

Kaz whipped around, fists clenched and tensed ready for a confrontation. The dangerous movement had the perpetrator taking a cautious step back. It was a woman, she had a benign look about her, large golden eyes and soft brown waves that had been pulled in to a loose bun.

"Who are you?"

The familiar scent of vanilla permeated the air as she took careful steps forward; it seemed on closer inspection that the woman was a lot older, late forties at least.

"Marnya Volkov," she smiled shakily and received no similar sentiment. "You won't remember me but…," she trailed off, arms falling to her sides as she regarded Kazana with what could almost be described as awe.

"I just can't believe I'm actually seeing you again. 12 years…," she said wonderingly.

Kazana eyed her warily; a multitude of questions burned her throat, desperate to cling on to something familiar.

"Where am I?"

"Well, outside the fence, as I'm sure you've guessed," Marnya laughed nervously but cleared her throat to continue. "Right now you're in one of the subdivisions of the Bureau of Genetic Welfare. Although this particular project has existed long before they came about," her voice was tinged with distaste.

"RPTS," Kaz murmured, Sophie had mentioned serums before the drug had set in. Marnya's face lit up in a pleased smile, eyes crinkling at the edges.

"You got my note!"

"Note?"

"My messages, I encrypted your fears with the initials, if I'd had more time I'd have made them clearer but-" she regarded Kazana with wide eyes, "You mustn't tell anyone about that, god if they found out I'd probably lose my job I-"

"That was you? What does it mean? None of this makes any-"

Two suited figures appeared at the doorway, their eyes were hidden behind black shades despite their being indoors. The first thing that Kazana noticed was that they were in no way distinctive; it was as though if they were to turn around and walk away she wouldn't be able to remember one single detail.

"He wants to see the girl," the first spoke eerily calm.

Marnya frowned at this, tugging nervously at caramel curls tinged with grey.

"She really needs to rest…she's barely recovered I-"

"Now."

A tense silence fell upon the three, Kaz watched as Marnya exhaled and bowed her head.

"Fine," she muttered, "Fine, but I'll take her."

Their mouths pursed disapprovingly but no qualms were made, they stepped to the side and Kazana felt a warm hand at the small of her back.

Marnya guided her out through the door and in to a corridor made entirely of steel, guards clad in dark green suits lined the walls and a vision from her memory returned full force. Soldiers, she remembered, they had been stationed to keep the crowd at bay.

"Where are we going," Kaz kept her voice quiet, unsure why she felt more trusting of this woman. A foolish move really, she knew better than to fall victim to kindness, Sophie had proved that much.

"You'll see," she smiled, though it failed to reach her eyes. Their heavy footfall echoed along the metal, it squealed under her boots and seemed oddly sinister in the deadly quiet.

Each hallway passed much like the last, dark, deserted and heavily guarded. Only one held a single difference, there in one of the walls was an embedded door. It appeared to be a lift, not unlike those in the Dauntless compound.

"Where does that-"

"That's not important right now," Marnya cut her off softly, increasing the pressure on her back as they turned a sharp corner. Kazana felt frustration boiling her blood, tempted to tear away from the older woman's grip but even she could not challenge such a vast number of guards.

She wondered exactly what could validate such a necessity; they came to stop before a clouded glass door. It was twice her height, and covered the furthest wall of the end corridor, what really drew her eye however, was the gold inscription running along its surface.

Toma Volkov

Kazana ripped out of the grasp and jerked away, head spinning as she tried to come to terms with what this meant. It had been a memory, he had been a memory, she knew that for sure. And yet, it had almost felt like a dream, distant and untouchable. Kaz knew nothing of him, not one single detail, but there existed a certain familiarity, and even stronger, a deep rooted dread, an instinct that told her to stay away.

"Volkov," she murmured backing clumsily in to one of the guards who barely reacted to her stumble. "Is he your son?"

Marnya's brows rose and she gaped for a moment at the question.

"No! No, he's…I suppose a distant relative."

The older woman reached out with delicate, weathered fingers and pressed her thumb, then each finger individually to the glass. Blue prints hummed under her touch, glowing through the clear surface.

"Permission Granted," a robotic voice sounded and Kazana shuddered. Again, all too familiar.

Thick glass retreated sideways in to the wall; a plume of menthol smoke crept out of the room and all within seemed hidden by the chilled fog.

Marnya entered without a second glance, seemingly unaffected by the daunting atmosphere. Kaz hesitated, curiosity itched at her to find out more but nothing sat easy. One last look at the multitude of soldiers confirmed her lack of options; she took a steadying breath and walked through the smoke.

"I-I thought I was meeting Toma," Kazana blanched.

"You are." Marnya replied from further on, she followed the voice and reached out with fumbling hands for a familiar form.

A dim blue light cut through the strange mist, illuminating the woman's bowed form. They stood in a room that was vast but almost empty. Marnya had stationed herself beside a tall chair, metal pads protruded outwards, designed to cushion someone's head. It was oddly similar to the seats she had seen during stage 3, in the fear simulations.

In the centre of the room was a platform that could have been considered a bed in its plush form.

Upon it lay a man whose tall figure was clad in pure white robes. Kazana approached tentatively, his chest rose and fell with regular breaths. The man's eyes were closed, body relaxed as though in a deep sleep. The face was familiar, she knew that face. But this was different. He was…old.

Soft wisps of grey hair dusted a balding surface, chestnut marks dotted along wrinkled flesh. His face was worn, hollowed with age and deep lines had embedded themselves in to his skin.

"This can't be him," she whispered, "This can't be Toma."

Marnya had come to stand behind her; her scent was sweet, but no longer comforting as Kaz regarded his still form.

"The man in my memories was young."

"That was a long time ago Kazana," Marnya spoke soothingly.

The suited men said he'd wanted to see her, but he looked so peaceful. This did not look like a leader who had demanded her presence.

"Can we wake him?"

"No."

Kaz opened her mouth but made no sound; the sharp smoke wafted up in to her nose and scalded her lungs.

"He can't be woken," Marnya's voice was hushed as it dropped an octave. "Toma Volkov has been in a coma for 42 years."

Impatience hung heavy in the air as Cain paced from one end of the tent to another like a caged animal. Vesper lay flumped on to the grass, red fingernails skimmed along green shards and Wes sat beside her, rocking from side to side like an anxious child.

"They should be back by now," Turf growled as he emerged from the tent, batting the sheet away irritably.

"They left an hour ago," Vesper drawled, though she could not deny their absence had left her with equal discomfort.

"She's right," Cain sighed, "We can't expect them back any time soon."

Their anxieties were a result of the bold decision that had been made that morning. Tris, Four, Lisa, Tori and a group of others had agreed that what answers they needed were not going to be found within the city. They had taken one of the Amity trucks and driven beyond the set perimeters, in to the unknown.

It had not gone without protest, namely from Evelyn who insisted that there was nothing to find. She had awoken little after Kazana's disappearance and failed to gain back the alliance of her people following the deaths at Dauntless. The older woman had stormed off when her qualms had gone unheard, she had not been seen since.

The question of Kaz's whereabouts had plagued them for three days, Wes and Vesper of course blamed themselves and Cain had retreated in to a constant state of anger.

Sophie was nowhere to be found, and it had not been for lack of trying. They had scoured every corner of the city, leaving of course the areas in which death was a certainty. Dreaded anticipation had everyone on edge, Eric had not yet made a move and he was not without an army having had many of the Dauntless return to their leader.

It left them with the only conclusion that she too had return to the compound, though Lisa had sworn it impossible.

"I know my sister," she'd insisted, "She would never do that."

"Yeah and she wouldn't turn over our best friend either?" Vesper sneered.

It seemed the only possibility; Kaz had been taken by the Dauntless traitors. The story failed to add up however, word would have gotten out that she had been captured. Eric would have begun the attack knowing that the Factionless leader was gone. But if Kazana wasn't with the Dauntless, then where the hell was she?

Two figures approached in swaying red tunics, the familiar sight had the group jumping to attention.

"Johanna," Cain nodded to the older woman, "I assume everything went smoothly?"

"Almost," she seemed regretful. "Tori was shot down before we made it out of the city."

"How is that possible? Nobody could have been-"

"They were wearing Factionless arm bands Cain," Robert answered.

"You don't think Evelyn…?" Turf murmured, the following silence confirmed their wondering.

"But the others," Cain pushed on, "They're okay? What did you see?"

Johanna nodded, "Yes, yes they made it out; we left them at the ruined city. As to what we saw…it was a wasteland."

The disappointment amongst the group was tangible, but there was no time to dwell. Cain scratched unwittingly at his brow.

"Evelyn needs to be dealt with before she causes any more damage," he huffed.

There were nods of agreement, Wes simply continued to rock sadly. They had refused to allow him to join the group leaving the city, insisting that he was required to stay should Eric attack. Lisa had gone in his place.

"I miss Kaz," he sighed. Vesper leaned in to him, burying her face in to his hefty shoulder.

"Me too, big man," she murmured sadly. "Me too."

No sound permeated the eerie silence as Kazana stared at the comatose form before her. Chilled, azure smoke filtered out through her nose with each choked breath but she did not feel it. Feeling was a luxury she did not have, the overload of information left her strangely numb.

"I imagine you must have a lot of questions-" Marnya began.

"You think?" Kaz replied sardonically.

"But it's really not my place to answer them."

"Then who?" she sighed, "Him?"

Kazana gestured to the stone still figure.

"You've spoken with him before."

"I-" the denial caught in her throat, she had spoken with him before. Through Max.

"But how?"

"A delicate piece of technology really," Marnya replied, her movements seemed impatient as she walked over the reclining seat. "You're aware how the fear simulations work? How it taps in to the part of your brain omitting those visions?"

Kazana followed her to the tall chair warily, "Yes…"

"It took us years to develop it, when he…came out, I was just a teenager. We eventually managed to develop a simulation that would allow us to access his sub-conscience."

Marnya pointed over to his bed, Kaz squinted in the navy shadows, a large tank was hooked on the head of his bed. A small clear tube ran in to the vein of his wrist and in it flowed a constant supply of clear bubbling liquid.

"A serum? You're keeping him conscious with a serum?"

"It's only when we enter the simulation ourselves that we can see what he sees. It is where you will find your answers."

"That still doesn't explain how he managed to control Max."

"Max was given a chip that would hook him to the simulation, much as you will be."

"Against his will," Kazana grimaced.

"It was a necessary action," Marnya sighed.

"And the code in the note? Was that necessary too?"

Marnya shook her head; a sad smile graced her doe like features.

"No. I thought when the time came that you found us yourself, you'd know where to look. I didn't know things would happen this way."

She hadn't known Kazana would be kidnapped? Taken by force? Had she known about the attack on Abnegation? 12 years she'd said, had she seen all those years of poverty?

Kaz sunk in to the chair and leaned back, two magnetic pads felt cool against her temples as Marnya began typing in to a hidden tablet. There was no computer in sight, evidently the technology was far more advanced outside the city, and yet strangely similar.

A languid weight did not pull her eyelids down, her mind flicked back to the leaders in stage 3, how they'd stared straight ahead with glazed eyes. Her gaze remained focused, but her mind went blank.

Jovial music echoed through emerald fields, the sun remained in a permanent state of setting and it cast the landscape in an aged golden glow. Kazana stood basked in the delicious light; the sky was lilted with shades of pink and dusty lilac. The sweet tune that followed her tentative steps through the crops was familiar, a distant chime of violins and the occasional bash of a snare drum, it was uplifting and whimsical, her very own orchestra.

Stone slabs encrusted with what might have been crystallized sugar, glinted in the grass. She followed the path cautiously until it led to a magnificent fountain.

The structure was shaped like a large love-heart, made entirely of marble and a constant flow of fresh water fell from the intricately carved basket of a wistful woman. She stood as a centrepiece, looking out in to the distance longingly as the waves lulled around her in an eternal stream.

Kazana came to stand before it, gazing up at the stone angel in awe; she was unable to resist reaching out to feel the cool water against her fingers. It was sensational.

"You always did love that fountain."

Her head whipped around in search of the voice, one she knew only too well. There stood before her was the cause. Of what she did not yet know, but looking at him now. The man who had haunted her every nightmare for months, the shadow that had loomed over her every waking thought for years, he was the cause.

Messy brown hair had been tucked behind his ears, a chequered cap was propped on his head and it matched the tweed of his suit. A small green bow was buttoned at his collar, and a strange pipe protruded from the pockets in which he currently had his hands. Toma regarded her cheerfully, the man from her memories.

"I believe we saw this one on a belated trip to Moscow in the fall," he chimed. Kaz simply stared at him open mouthed.

"Do you like the music?" he gestured with a circular motion all around, where 3 flutes currently sounded in silken harmony. "Tchaikovsky's 'Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy'," he chuckled. "It always was one of your favourites."

"You're not old," Kazana murmured. She really had had a plethora of questions to ask, queries to make. That had not been the top of her list.

Toma simply raised his brows, and plucked the pipe from his trousers. Squinting in to the fading sun and holding the wooden piece out until the end ignited and plumes of smoke omitted in generous waves.

"Well this is my fantasy darling; I'm hardly going to make myself an ugly old codger now am I?" He grinned and took a hefty inhale of his pipe, the thick fog filtered out of his nose. The entire look was strangely demonic. He perused her form with a hint of pride, coming to lean against the fountain's edge.

"My, you have grown! Last time I saw you, you were still in ribbons and missing your front teeth," he chuckled and paused. "That is unless of course you mention the whole palaver with Max, which of course, I don't!"

Kazana swallowed heavily, fear and confusion thick in her throat. The setting sun and sweet symphony seemed almost sinister now.

"How could you have seen me then? You've been in a coma for four decades."

Toma's open mouth downturned in a grimace. "Ah," he sighed irritably, "They've left it all to me I see."

He inhaled sharply, and when his gaze was on her once more it was filled again with a false sense of merriment. "Very well," he threw his hands up twiddled his bow. Kazana could see how a younger her may have found comedy in his actions. "Let me explain then my sugar plum fairy."

Her mind flitted back to the platform on which she'd stood, looking out in to the crowd as though they were servants, and how he had made her feel like royalty.

Kaz's jaw clenched at the sentiment, but she was in no mood for games.

Toma clicked his fingers and with an almost comical poof an aged wad of paper appeared in his hand. It was folded in half and covered completely in black font, some larger than others. He cleared his throat and regarded the paper with pursed lips.

"Hmm," he shook his head, "A little hazy with wording I'm afraid, but the best I can do. It is after all, coming from here." Toma pointed to his temple and gave her a discomforting wink.

She plucked the piece from his outstretched hand, eyes scanning greedily for information.

"RUSSIAN SCIENTISTS DISCOVER THE KEY TO GENETIC RESTORATION

Toma Volkov, world renowned biologist and public speaker has revealed plans for renovations to his current research lab…,"

Kazana looked over the first term over and over again, trying in vain to find an answer to months of questions. 'Russian Precinct of Time and Sustentation.' What did that even mean?

What truly caught her eye however, was the end of the article. A cliff-hanger of sorts as the writer left them with an enigmatic question.

"Although this view does hold universal value amongst the optimists of our society, it does rouse the doubts that play on everyone's minds. Are they any Originals remaining?"

"What's an Original?" Kaz asked, glancing up at the older man who regarded her through a misty haze. She coughed as a particularly violent plume invaded her nose.

"Well," he dragged the word out thoughtfully, looking around with exaggerated motions before turning back to her. "I suppose that'd be you my sweet."

"M-me?"

"Mhm," he smiled and sighed contentedly, "A shining example, a beacon of hope, the very definition of perfect genes," his eyes were alight with pride. "You my dear are whole."

Searing vexation tore at her insides, turning her blood to acid, but something about his regal manner demanded, calm and polite. It was though it had been instilled early on, perhaps it had been, perhaps by him.

"I'm afraid," she spoke through gritted teeth, "I don't quite understand."

Toma rubbed his eyes and adjusted his cap, "We live in a broken society my darling, you of all people must know that. What do they call your little groups again? Factions? It goes against human nature my sweet, against evolution."

Kazana sussed his questions were simply for show, an act to lull her in to comfort, he had instigated all of this. Of course he knew what a fucking Faction was.

"The reason of course stems back to a little issue with purity, something way beyond even my time, the result being a nation…no, a series of nations with a serious infliction on their DNA. Unfortunately once it was done, nothing could be done to reverse it, the gene, or lack of, is a dominant one."

It was information, crucial facts, but not ones she wanted to hear. An explanation was needed, RPTS, the note, her past.

"Years passed and nobody thought there were any Originals left, but then of course you came along," he gazed fondly at her, "so small you were, all cherub cheeks and charcoal plaits. I knew I needed to keep you. To preserve your perfection."

A heavy weight settled in her stomach as he snapped his fingers once more, but all that he held in his hand now was a photograph.

"So I built a machine that would allow me to do just that, years of research, the sweat and the blood, oh but it was all worth it," cool fingers brushed against her skin as he leaned in to caress her jaw.

Kazana jerked away from his touch, oddly repulsed. She reached out with clumsy fingers to rip the photo from his grasp.

"I built one for us each," he whispered. "Just you and I. An indestructible structure of magnificence, designed so nothing, man or machine, could alter it. Hoping that one day, we would be released in to a new world, one where my research would prosper!" Toma frowned.

"It didn't work out too well for me as you can see," he gestured to their surroundings. His make believe world. "They took me out too early."

A strangled gasp omitted from her throat as she looked down at the worn picture, its edges were yellowed and ripped and the image had faded with time though the vision was clear.

It was her. Four year old Kazana lay still and silent, eternalized in a photograph that depicted what appeared to be a large white pill, a capsule. A thick glass window was the only access given to the tiny innocent face behind it. Bold letters ran along the underside of the square image.

RPTS.

"Sustentation," Kaz murmured. To preserve.

And Time?

Part of her told her not to look, don't look, don't look. It was though a distant version of herself knew, the sweet, laughing child knew. Before a sharp needle pierced her skin and stole what few memories she'd had left.

Pale fingers trembled violently as she turned the wisp of paper over in her hands and saw four numbers scribbled on to the back. A date.

2112.

Hot tears slipped down her cheeks, fingers clenching around the frail sheet.

"Toma this picture was taken in twenty one-twelve," she looked up; his eyes scanned her face with animalistic excitement. He'd been waiting for this moment as long as she.

"That was two hundred years ago."