She never really understood why she kept the little box of mementoes, hand crafted and delicate in its intricate design, the only token she had to remember that, once upon a time, there may have been someone who cared, someone who loved her enough to buy the only birthday present she had ever received.
Inside were a few faded photos of a man stood beside a little girl who struggled to hold the smile on her lips, numerous bruises upon her arms from chemical drips and puncture wounds from the sharp kiss of a needle. Hair cut ridiculously short.
"I'm not a person… She always told me that. So why be treated like one?"
The man in the photo was holding her limp hand, a sad smile of his own on his face as he looked at the broken remnants of a child beside him. She remembered that he was the only one who showed her any kindness, gave her a name rather than a number to call her by. To him she had been Hazel, not subject 173. He had died six months after the final photo was taken, when she had just turned sixteen.
Shutting the box, she hid it once more beneath the ornate bed that stands in at the centre of the back wall, the four poster bed like a perfect cocoon for her few hours of sleep each night. The room its self was decorated in rich shades of royal blue and purple, hard wood boarders separating the walls from the plush carpet that seemed desperate to suck her bare feet into its softness.
It was nothing like her old rooms, they had been bare and minimalistic, no touch of sentiment about them, only what she needed to survive.
"Miss Rose"
She turned to the door, eyes softening deceptively at the elderly man that greeted her, Mycroft's aging butler. Mr Slater seemed a kind man with an overly forgiving nature, evident by the wrinkles around his eyes and the glisten within the grey orbs. Also, she got the feeling that only a saint could work for Mycroft Holmes for so many years without attempting murder at least once.
"Is there something I can do for you George?"
He had insisted upon her using his first name, fond recollections of his own daughter spurring on his request. She wouldn't argue with him, she had no cause to do so. He smiled warmly towards her, holding the bedroom door open as he spoke.
"The master wishes your presence within the gymnasium, dear girl"
She couldn't suppress the chuckle as she made her way out of the room, sending a flash of a smile towards the man before disappearing.
"He really does need to step into the modern age, don't you agree George?"
As Nova made her way through the corridors of the old Victorian era manor, she couldn't help but look at the decorations that lined the walls. Beautiful paintings, hard wood antique furniture and the odd suit of armour dotted here and there, the colour scheme wasn't much different to that of her own room, rich shades of red and purple, the skirting boards the finest quality hard wood she had ever seen.
With a scoff, she turned the corner and chose to ignore the surroundings, merely shaking her head at the clear ego of the man that resided within the four walls. He clearly thought of himself as some level of royalty. She could hear the sound of his footfall upon a treadmill, the exertion of his lungs as they struggled for breath and, as she turned into the doorway, could see the man in question running steadily, adorning a designer pair of jogging bottoms and sports shirt. Because clearly a simple, non-designer set of sweat pants and shirt would never be good enough for him.
"You rang, your majesty?"
His eyes snapped too her, not having heard her approach, causing his footing to catch beneath him as he lost balance and began to crash down. Mycroft shut his eyes for the impact, but found it never came, only registering the arms that hooked beneath his own and the body that supported his as she helped him off the machine and he detached himself with some small amount of indignation.
"Thank you, Miss Rose. Though I would sooner appreciate fair warning for your arrival rather than a cutting remark from the doorway"
He registered the distance from the doorway to where they now stood, becoming aware that, if it had been any other, they would not have reached him in time to prevent his landing. How had she moved so quickly?
"You will pardon the curiosity my dear, but how were you able to move so swiftly from the door to the treadmill?"
"I was under the impression that you had paid a visit to Baskerville Mr. Holmes? Surely your questions regarding my origins have already been answered?"
She watched with an air of suspicion as he moved away completely and sat within the wing backed armchair beside a large fireplace, gesturing for her to sit in the chair opposite his own. He couldn't take his eyes off her either, watching as she moved with a lithe grace that seemed fitting of only the deadliest of predators, she wore her own comfortable looking jogging pants, a plain black half shirt that revealed a well-toned stomach and running shoes. Had she been about to start her own morning exercises?
"Baskerville proved useless in the pursuit of answers, all records of you appeared to have been destroyed beyond a few files on the nature of your birth"
She merely hummed, turning her eyes to the unlit fireplace as she thought upon his words. She wasn't surprised that they had tried to cover their tracks, what they had done had been highly classified and, on many levels, inhumane. She laughed at the final thought. She was hardly human anymore.
"Then you have much to learn Mycroft. But I believe that my tale is not one which you are ready for. Your precious government has much to answer for when we consider my creation"
He scowled at her words, hating that she refused to give him the answers he craved, confused by the strange jolt of meaningless joy that went through his heart at her simple use of his name and bewildered by how she referred to her birth as a 'creation'.
"You refer to yourself as a creation quite frequently Nova. But I am certain that you were conceived and born in the same manner as myself and the rest of the world"
At this, she laughed outright, her head thrown back in a disturbing sign of mirth before snapping back forward and staring at him with an insanity that he had rarely seen in another.
"Of course I was Mycroft, my Mother was inseminated by a sperm donor chosen by the ones running the project and I was born crying and screaming, covered in blood just like any other new born. But that is where the similarity ends…."
She stopped in her speech, lifting her hand to her right eye before gouging her fingers deep into the socket and pulling the ball of flesh free from its confines, Mycroft's stomach suddenly dropping in a fresh sense of horror as he saw the circuits and little mechanisms behind the eyeball that connected deep within her skull, watching as she pushed it back into its previous position and leaned back in her chair, registering the look of anger and mortification within his own, human, eyes.
"I was born to be dehumanised, I was given no name at my birth, only a number. They took my humanity away from the moment my first breath was taken. But now we must ask ourselves this: Do you still wish for the answers to your questions or would you prefer to remain ignorant to the prior misdeeds of your precious government?"
He was still for a moment, considering her offer to forget what he had just seen. How could he though? She was something he had never considered possible, she was someone that he found himself quite fond of for her talents and her ability to understand his own mind, she was a perfect blank canvas that he found he wished to paint and mould into something even greater than before. He found he wanted to help her find a heart of her own. But, to do that, he would first need to know the truth.
"I am listening, if you are willing to share, dear Nova"
She smiled slightly, causing shock to Mycroft as he realised it was the closest he had seen to a real expression on the woman's face as a jolt shot through her heart, the rotting organ that she thought to be desolate suddenly feeling the smallest warmth as she realised: someone wanted to hear her side of things for once.
"Then let us start where all stories must. The beginning"
Hey guys,
Hope you are enjoying the story up to now.
I just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who has followed/favourited this story so far, I'm hoping to have the next chapter up pretty soon, focusing completely on what Baskerville did to Nova and what exactly she is.
Thanks again for your support,
Crimsondagger xx
