Step One
"So. How well have you learned."
Blade looked at him. She didn't say a word.
The Commandant turned his back, sharply, angrily. He paused for a second, as if controlling his rage, and then turned back to her, "Recruit 273, I am losing patience with you."
"Then why do you continue," she asked, emotionlessly, "Surely I am a lost cause... sir."
"Because in ten years this facility has not had a single rouge element. All workers have been moulded to obedience. There are no exceptions."
"Well. There's a first time for everything."
"Not this." He grabbed her chin, swiftly, forcing her to face him. She didn't move, didn't flinch. She just looked at him. He considered her for a moment, "Yes... You're stronger than the average Crucible dog. I'll give you that. Something's keeping you resilient. Something outside these walls." His grip tightened until pain split along her jaw, "I will find it, 273. And I will crush it."
She let her anger enter her eyes, "My name is Blade."
He released her and slapped her hard around the face. Her back hit the wall and she put a hand to her cheek, automatically. But she just stood still, giving a small, quiet laugh, shaking her head, "Go on. Go on, then. Find it. Find what's keeping me strong. Why don't you just do it. Why don't you just use your bloody collar. Force me to answer. Go ahead."
"273, do not think to assume that this form of questioning is due to anything more than necessity." She raised an eyebrow, and he shook his head, "Humans cannot withstand the collar for long. Though your attempts are... valiant... you can only endure three activations before unconsciousness. Which is a waste of my time and yours."
She rolled her eyes, an expression she saved for situations exactly like this, "Yes, because my very busy timetable does not allow for such inconveniences..."
He smiled, lopsidedly, an odd sight and not a pleasant one. She met his eyes, not letting him think he had affected her.
"What was your name? Before Blade, I mean."
She looked at him, frowning slightly. For someone trying to enforce 'Recruit 273' on her he was acting very oddly... She shook her head, "I believe it was Lionheart. I am not in charge of what the public calls me, sir."
He shook his head, impatiently, "Before that. I mean your real name."
Blade looked at him. Was this suspicion? Was he trying to work it out? What explanation would he come up with, she wondered.
The Commandant raised an eyebrow, "Well? You will not answer? 273, you will learn obedience if it is the last thing you do!"
"Go on then!" she burst out, suddenly, anger fuelling her, "Use your collar! See what good it does you! Keep on using it then maybe I won't even be able to remember what my name is, is that what you want?"
He looked at her, perfectly calmly, "Yes. Now. What is your name?"
She looked at him, "Blade." She practically spat.
He struck out, throwing her to the floor, "Your name is Recruit 273! And again! What is your name!"
"Blade!"
He activated the collar and her head smashed down to the floor, pain splitting along her temples, her breathing captured in her lungs.
You are Recruit 273. Lucien's voice said in her head, You know that is your name.
"No!" she growled, anger and pain burning through her, "No! I am Blade! Blade is who I am!"
No. You have no other existence apart from Recruit 273. That is all you are.
"My name is who I am!"
There is nothing except these walls. Nothing outside. You must learn this.
"I will not!"
Pain burned again, splitting, seizing her head. Then the Commandant gestured with his hand, sharply. The collar released. Her head relaxed back on the floor. Her breathing started again. She had spent some time in this place. She was beginning to recover more quickly. She didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
This was step one. Blade knew it. Depersonalisation. She was just a number. Just 273. And it didn't matter what happened to a number. A number had no identity, no life. It was just used as the user saw fit.
Lucien was her user.
She allowed her fury at that thought to power her. She stumbled back to her feet, locking her eyes back on the Commandant, grimly expectant. She allowed no other emotions to show through. There was only anger.
He looked at her, eyebrow raised, "Well. You certainly are a fighter. I'll give you that. Very strong..." he tilted his head slightly to one side, almost curiously, "You know, I do believe the other guards would be quite interested in you. They apparently love a challenge. Have they asked you yet?"
Anger surged inside of her, and she had to fight hard to stop the blood from going to her cheeks, "Yes. They did."
"And?"
She looked at him, considering her answer, "And they didn't ask again." She replied, coldly.
He smiled again, and an uncontrollable shiver went through her. Seeing his smile was like seeing a Nymph smile - more dangerous and terrifying in itself than any creature you could care to name. "Yes, you seem the type."
"The type?"
"The type that will resist in any way possible." He paused, looking at her, tilting his head slightly to one side. Then he shook his head, dismissively, "But I've wasted enough time on you. Guards. Take her away. Put her in solitary for a few days. See if she changes her tune."
Two guards grabbed hold of her arms, yanking her back towards the door, "If you think solitary will break me, Commandant, you are very mistaken!"
He glanced at her, looking vaguely amused, "273. It isn't the isolation that is designed to break you. It's you. Take her."
Blade closed her eyes. She opened them again. There was no difference. She paused, and then put her hands out, running them along the walls. They were too close. The room was, as far as she could tell, about two feet by three. It must have been made for this purpose.
She paused again. Silence. Nothing but silence. She ran her tongue over her lips. What was with this room? Was it Will? Old Kingdom engineering? Not a sound entered it, when just outside the door she could hear voices, footsteps, hammers and spades, building work, the guards' sharp commands. In here she could hear nothing.
She shuffled back a bit, backing into the corner, pulling her knees up to her chest and letting her head lean back against the stone wall. It was cold. Not cold enough for her to actually worry about it, but cold enough for her to be constantly aware of it. The rough cloth of the guard jacket itched against her skin, but she didn't take it off. She didn't want to bare her arms to this chill.
Michael.
Rose Marie.
Mattie.
She didn't have her book. Not that it would matter in this dark. So she let her mind wander over everything she knew, everything she remembered from back home. She smiled slightly. Sometimes she wrote home a day or so in advance. Sometimes she'd just turn up on the doorstep, a cocky, yet still almost relieved grin moving over her face as she saw his for the first time in weeks.
They'd spend the day out by Bower Lake, maybe go for a picnic. She'd rock Mattie to sleep and teach Rose Marie how to fish over the side of the creek. They'd once been interrupted by bandits, and she'd taken them out of sight before making sure it was the last mistake they made. Then they'd go home, she'd put Rose to sleep, put a kiss on Mattie's forehead, and with the kids asleep Michael would drag her almost immediately off to bed to show her just how much he'd missed her.
And then, the next morning, she'd make her goodbyes, and then leave again.
Blade's smile faded. She leant further back into the cold stone. The silence cut through her again. The sound of children laughing faded into darkness.
Maybe this was what the Commandant had meant. She had never felt so weak in her life.
