Disclaimer: All characters belong to Cassandra Clare.
A/N: I like to torture people. Everything seems unrelated, but trust me: they will as the story goes!
Chapter 2: The Beginnings
Magnus was browsing a magazine about gardening when a helper moved and stopped approximately two feet away, slightly bowing forward to show courtesy. The helper was beautiful, without training people would not discover she was a robot. Nowadays robots could be very realistic in appearance. But Magnus did not care about their looks; he only had two bots doing his chores. Nothing more.
"Mr. Bane, Ms. Gray is ready to see you."
Then the helper turned around, assumed Magnus would follow. They walked past a dark tunnel on the ceiling level of the factory, the only sources of light were coming from their left side. It was the company's manufacturing lines, four rows lining up and almost everything was in white. Magnus could peep down and see the process.
At the beginning the machines did all the work, cutting materials, fusing parts and polishing. Humans were at the end, evaluating the qualities according to the checklist. Those passed the examination would be delivered somewhere else for further assembly. It was late at night, but the lines never stopped.
Magnus stayed in the middle of the tunnel, not wanting to show any interest.
At the end of the tunnel was the Chief Designer's room, a name Tessa Gray craved delicately on the marble stone melted into the metal door. Swiftly the helper pushed it open and held it for Magnus, closed it when the tall tanned man found himself a seat inside the large room.
Tessa was making tea from her bar, knowing it was Magnus's favorite. She set down the cup on the table and sipped her coffee. Magnus smiled to her when took his tea to his mouth.
"Jem must have told you. I'm happy you are willing to help, Magnus. I owe you a big one."
Her desk was a mess, stuffed with figures and materials. An artificial robotic skin was put aside, surrounded by wires in various colors and bottles labelled in weird names.
"Uh-hum. Should I book you an appointment with Catarina to check your brain?"
The sarcastic response caused Tessa grinned and nearly blew the coffee on her work. She quickly put it down so that it would not spill on the design-in-progress, even though they were water-proofed. Index finger touched her transparent glass desk and slid upward, a screen popped up in front of Magnus, listing out the ideas.
"It's the company's idea, actually."
Frowning at the light blue words Magnus waved the screen away. "I just can't figure out why your company insists on something that is doomed to fail."
The look on Tessa suddenly turned serious and Magnus shifted uncomfortably in his seat. She crossed her fingers and rested her chin on it.
"I know what you mean. The Clave being this conservative is surely not allowing companies manufacturing such things. Our company has received many requests about custom-making a robot like that… and my boss thinks it will be a great business opportunity if The Clave approves."
"I'm sure someone would like to volunteer as a template." Magnus said. He had his doubt when Jem talked about the modeling because those clients were eager to get themselves a robot like that. Guessed he was wrong.
"They want to know if we have the technique and ability to keep them under control. Before there is a proof, they are not going to risk it. So that's why you are here."
Magnus could see she called him to help out of desperation; they both knew this was not going to work. Yet it was not their calls. He would offer any help to his friends.
"Where should we start?"
Tessa's eyes brightened at his words and clapped her hands together, explained. "We'll have to put you into a machine for outlining your physique, come."
They abandoned their drinks and turned right once they were out of the office. The helper was there at the end of the hallway, nodded to them when they walked passed. Tessa thanked her for the preparation and the helper left them alone. There wasn't much in the room, a tube lengthways in the middle and computers on their right. A cabinet with more bottles behind the computers. No windows and the ventilation was concealed somewhere inside the walls and floors.
Tessa walked straight to those computers and pointed at the cloth stand near the tube.
"I need you to take all your clothes off and lay down inside. It might be uncomfortable but it will only be a minute."
With no protest and remark Magnus followed her instruction and stripped himself. The temperate warmed up as each piece of clothing was hung on the stand. Once he was naked, Tessa tapped something on the computers and the tube opened in half like a clip, revealed a bed with white sheet. It was big enough to fit in two of him, Magnus got into it with ease.
He laid on his back, hands on each side. Tessa was near the tube with hands feelng the inner edge of the opening, said. "It's just like a body checkup, except this will take a shorter time because we only look into your outside. It should take two to three minutes to finish the model. Any question?"
"No, Ms. Gray."
Grinning, Magnus watched Tessa closed the opening herself and instantly the tube became transparent. He could see Tessa was returning to her post, viewing the screen showing his heartbeat rates and many other things while moving her fingers on the tablet.
The tube blocked the noise out, so all Magnus could hear was his constant even breathing. As an Aristo getting inside a tube like this wasn't unusual, since it was carried out on a daily basis when they were raised in the breeding laboratory.
Keeping his eyes open for the modeling, Magnus's mind drifted back to his work. White. His next collection would be in white.
With the last box done, Jem wiped the sweat away from his forehead. Magnus dropped by on time and gave him the last bandages and antibiotics. Those could hold for about two months.
Getting the medicine out to the border did not mean he could take a rest; it simply meant the start of another round. Sometimes he felt guilty taking that much from the hospital, but they had no other ways. They did not have enough money to buy it from the black market, not to mention those goods sneaking around were also taken from the hospitals. So what he did saved The Institute some money to spend on other essential things like food and clothing.
The condition outside the border was not unheard of, just that Jem had not expected it to be this worse. It was a mere interest of him to choose working for the discarded as his research paper, tales were all over the city. He had the official papers for crossing and the steps he had took weighted him down ever since.
It was a disaster formed many years ago. The experiment of Aristos was not that successful at the beginning, many of the fetuses were abnormal; either low in intelligence or born with physical faults. Yet The Clave could not kill them based on the human rights. Simply to get rid of the problem, they put those children outside the border. And left them for good. Without knowledge and skills, many died quickly. The remains reproduced and the next generations lived on.
James Carstairs, William Herondale, Theresa Gray and Magnus Bane – were born when the technique was already well-developed. They were the lucky ones.
He wrote a report after the visit, wishing to hand in to The Clave and improve the life outside. But it was sealed and destroyed. That was when he joined The Institute.
Jem was waiting at the back door as usual. And he tapped his watch nervously, since the pick-up guy was still not here. He was never late.
While his head was calculating all the possibilities, the similar black hatchback drove to the small alleyway. Pushed himself off from the wall, the driver signaled their codes. Jem's head turned slightly to his right, four medium boxes was piled up against the door.
The driver remained at his seat while another guy jumped out from the passenger, began to load the boxes inside. Jem could not suppress his curiosity, asked discreetly.
"You're late."
"Something in the hideout but it is settled now. There is no need for you to worry about, Doctor."
Technically Jem was a psychiatrist, yet there was no point correcting the guy. He nodded and watched the hatchback loaded, again disappeared into the road. The driver was an easy-going person, Jem trusted him. If he said so, Jem should not be worried too much.
The cold March wind was brushing Jem's skin; he went back into the hospital and thinking whether he should contact Will or not, as the blue-eyed man skipped their dinner last minute. Certainly something big was going on. Wherever he went, he could catch whispers of the scan waves and increased droids patrolling on the streets. Everyone was talking about it.
Walked in the empty hallways, Jem figured before he went home he could finish adding another unfortunate incident on Magnus's trend of self-mutilation records.
Back to his small office, he found Jeremiah was there waiting for him. The old man's hands on his back, looking out from the window. As Jem cleared his throat, a glimpse of black lines moved subtly followed the tide of yellow lights, breaking the dark sky.
"You want me, Jeremiah?"
Jeremiah turned around and a gentle smile hanging on his wrinkled face. He always smelled of spices. When they first met in the school Jem found it over-stimulating, but as time passed by it in fact provided him comfort.
Jeremiah moved next to Jem, spoke in a serious tone. "Jem, how long have you been under my tutorial?"
They sat down on the tangelo couch near the door, rather than sitting opposite over Jem's working desk. Air burst out from the couch silently when their bodies dropped on it.
"11 years, ever since I chose this to be my career."
"You're the best student I've ever had, Jem. Even among the Aristos. Your performance is spectacular and all your patients are recovered. I can't do that." Jeremiah said, face blanked.
His tutor kept on mumbling. "Jem, you have talents – don't waste it somewhere else."
All the young man could do was listen. He had not the slight idea of what this was about, yet he knew Jeremiah; everything he did had a reason. Jem felt a hand on his shoulder, the respectable psychiatrist was looking at him thoughtfully.
"I am old now. If things happen, I want you to take my cases."
Jem's eyes widened with awe, the spices scent evaporated within the office. Jeremiah was not old at all. "You're only 57, there is a long road ahead." He said lowly as if it was forbidden, a taboo.
Suddenly the serious face of Jeremiah changed into a huge grin; it deepened his worry. The pale man smiled while reminding Jem a cruel fact, "I'm a mundane. Earlier this year I received a phone call from the hospital, the annual checkup shows I have a high possibility of a heart attack in the next few years. It can happen anytime, anywhere. And I need you to take my patients."
"I will." It was his honor to be trusted by Jeremiah, a man who gained respects from both Aristo and mundane societies, who was humble with fame. Jem never like the truth that his beloved tutor was a mundane. Life was this unfair.
Jeremiah gave him a pat, obviously relaxed when the stone on his chest was removed. That night they shared a drink and talked until mid-night. Jem had sworn when he graduated from the school, that he was going to be a man like Jeremiah.
The oinks were echoing in the office as his colleagues fell asleep on the floor. Searchers were browsing again the footages, checked if they missed anything. It was late at night, exactly two days since the Lightwood boy kidnapped. Will had been reading files, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation and find the whereabouts.
Will's seat occupied a corner of the weak-in-light office. He turned on the desk lampstand, not wanting to disturb the sleep of others. Burying his face into his palm, Will sighed heavily.
Everything led to a dead end.
In the past two days no droid had caught a sight of the boy, and the city scans could not detect Alexander Lightwood. He could be underground, or out in the border. The scanning system of the transport did not register his exit and it had no signs of being hacked. The teenager simply vanished.
The police had employed all the people, having every aspects investigated. The blueprints of all train stations, any escapes, and reports of unknown flying objects… there was nothing. No trace, no print, no DNA. Will wondered why he took the case from the start. Next time he would not be sympathetic toward the commissioner.
When Will was asking a helper to get him some food, a call showed up on his screen. Grunting with his empty stomach, he had to answer it because it was Maryse Lightwood.
"Detective Herondale."
Her monotonous tone began to scare Will. He could not imagine how the children doing under those two's supervision. It was not that he had experience on any, but still.
Judging from the datum from the keeper and butler, their parents were always out on business. Will thought their reputation in his heart could not reach any lower after Jonathan told him they used their own children as an experiment to sell their system, yet it just plummeted when he received the news that Maryse and Robert were not returning to Vikram.
It always amazed Will that humans could be this cold.
"Yes. Mrs. Lightwood. I called multiple times earlier but you weren't available. You must have got my voicemails."
"I do. And with my husband we have decided not to give Sebastian what he wants."
"… Are you sure?"
"We will not back down and you can tell him to forget about it." She sounded extremely calm and that was what provoked Will.
"He is your son. You're just going to leave him on some nutjob's hands?"
His voice was rising, plainly not trusting what he just heard from the woman. Anger was boiling within his blood.
"Do whatever you want. But we are not going to submit. I have another meeting, thank you for your time detective."
Just that, the call was ended abruptly, left no chance for Will to condemn their choice. Will slumped into his seat and groaned dangerously. They were unbelievable. He muttered a thanks when the keeper delivered him food and pushed the plate away from blocking his screen. He needed proper rest, yet whenever he laid down his mind would fly back to the Lightwood boy. This morning he had looked into the package, the analyst confirmed it belonged to Alexander Lightwood, also those tissues attached. He would feel something weird about his spine, as if someone was touching him, something was crawling along.
Even though he lost his appetite after the call, Will bit down the sandwiches. His body required it, and in order to keep going he had to intake something. He took a short break as he chewed on the breads and chickens, the tasty sauce squeezed out and dripped on his shirt when he took a huge bite.
"Tsk!" One hand with the sandwich Will pulled some napkins out from the box on the corner of his desk. Everyone had one on their desks as they were too bothered to get out from their seats to the common room. Will was no exception.
When he was trying to clean the stain, a message from his personal channel popped up on his screen. Will thought it was a junk mail, but he read the title and nearly dropped his sandwich.
'Detective, catch up with us'
Will's blue eyes darted around and found none of his colleagues were up. They were spent from hours of reading and analyzing. Will clicked the button to open, not sure what to expect.
A shaky breath slipped; Will turned his head around to avoid the picture filled up his screen.
It was the Lightwood boy and a guy with only his lower half in there, the background was dark and appeared that they were in a small room made of concrete. Kneeling with his upper body naked, crimson painted the boy's pale and slimly toned torso. Will could make out those words scarred on it as they were so bloody with the skins peeled off.
Swine along his side.
Mundane on stomach.
Cocksucker at the center of his chest.
Slut right on the forehead.
The boy's wrists were tied to his ankles. Knees spread and body arched forwards. A hand grabbed the ebony hairs strongly that he threw his head back, intentionally to let Will see the bruised dots on the boy's neck. Those were small but noticeable. They must have injected him something.
Under the picture there was a sentence, "Double, same time at Afra. This is just the beginning."