I spent the night in a small cell, shivering on a narrow cot. Eventually I must have drifted into some manner of sleep, because when my eyes snapped open, they discovered a set of clothes on the floor. Simple cotton pants and a sleeveless shirt; both the same distasteful, off-white hue and stretched with use. Still, better than freezing. I pulled them on with some reluctance, trying my best to ignore the disturbing thought of someone having watched me as I slept. In my underwear.
Oh, how I loathed this place.
My muscles ached and complained with every move I made, but my head felt clear – well, as lucid as one might expect after a sleep-deficient night. Probing my scalp with gentle fingertips revealed an injury that was much less severe than I had feared. As far as I could tell, it now consisted of nothing more than a patch of coagulated blood covering a spot that was tender to the touch. While I had no way of assessing the internal bleeding the suit had detected, I found that without its support I had to be very careful with my bruised ribs. All it took was one wrong move and my knees would nearly give out from the pain.
Once dressed, I sat on the bed and examined my cell. A light in one corner emitted a bluish-white glow that never dimmed. A toilet occupied the opposite one. I gave it a dubious once-over, a repulsed grimace forming on my face. I definitely needed to get out of this place before I would have to use that. I couldn't even see any toilet paper.
That was the complete list of the items of interest within the smooth, bland walls of my cell. With a sigh, I turned my attention toward my current situation instead. Injured, imprisoned, hungry and thirsty, without my hazard suit. While far from comforting, at least these facts were plain and certain. The rest was much more nebulous.
A moment of celebration; that's what it should have been for all of us. The triumphant culmination of years of perseverance and hard work. Instead I found myself held captive and menaced by violent thugs, with no way of reaching anyone who could aid me.
I thought of my friends and colleagues, and wondered if they were any better off than I was. I thought of James, then quickly moved on to something else. I wasn't ready to deal with what he'd done. Not yet. Not here.
My contemplation was interrupted by the sound of a door unlocking, signaling the arrival of a couple of uniformed and armed guards. My questions went unanswered; instead I was unceremoniously handcuffed and jostled down an empty corridor, lined with doors identical to the one on my cell. The bastards didn't even bother to acknowledge my sounds of distress, caused by their careless treatment.
Upon entering a different hallway, my heart sank. This was the route I had been dragged along the previous day. My inhospitable Shinra hosts weren't done with me yet.
All too soon I was inside the same interrogation room, alone and strapped into the awful chair again. There was nothing I could do but wait.
The large mirror reflected a sorry sight. Nervous eyes. Rumpled hair in a matching shade of dark brown. A couple of bruises, marring the skin that my sad excuse for clothing wasn't able to cover, and a few trickles of dried blood trailing down my left temple. I looked small and weak without my protective suit. I hated it.
After just a few minutes, my clammy hands were clenching and opening in a ceaseless rhythm, while my gaze had begun a restless journey across the sparsely furnished room. I detested the suspense of waiting, too. I wondered how long they planned to leave me in here, with nothing but my own pathetic image to keep me company.
It could have been a matter of minutes. It may have been closer to half an hour. I couldn't tell how much time had passed by the time the door slammed open. I jumped in startled surprise, then squeezed my eyes shut and gritted my teeth. Despite the pain bursting across half my ribcage, there was a measure of relief. The wait was over.
"Yo!"
That particular sentiment was short-lived, however.
I kept my head tilted forward and eyed the suited duo from under my eyebrows while I waited for the physical ache to subside. The bigger man took up the same position by the table that he'd held the previous day, while the skinny one remained standing.
"What's with the evil eye, Fitz? You're not still mad 'bout yesterday, are ya?"
With half-lidded eyes and a faint curve to his lips, Reno appeared indifferent, perhaps mildly amused at most. How callous could a person be?
He tutted and shook his head in feigned regret. "All that unpleasant business could've been avoided, y'know. You should've listened the first time, babe. I hope you've learned your lesson."
My insides roiled with anger and remembered humiliation.
"I'm surprised you didn't just take the suit off me while I was unconscious, if you wanted it that badly," I growled, not bothering to hide my animosity.
"Wanna see me fry, eh?" the redhead smirked. "We tried that, darlin'. One of Scarlet's techies got cooked pretty bad."
My brow furrowed in confusion for a few moments, until an unsettling scenario that explained his remark occurred to me.
"What?!" I squeaked, my voice shooting up an octave. "You tried to short-circuit my damn suit? While I was inside it?"
He raised his eyebrows, giving me a skeptical look. "You expect us to believe it wasn't a defense mechanism?"
Still rattled by the shock, his accusation launched me into an impulsive rant.
"Defense against what? Toxic gases? High temperatures? I told you, it was designed for environmental dangers! God, James is going to–"
I cut myself short as a bitter ache welled up in my heart. I was about to say that James would be furious to hear about them damaging it in such a way, before realizing just how painfully accurate that was. Judging by the man's recent actions, he would indeed be more concerned about the damned hazard suit than my wellbeing.
"There's that James again. Sounds like you wanna talk 'bout him, yo."
I averted my eyes and took a deep, shaky breath to gather my wits while the redhead continued talking.
"However ya got here, you couldn't have done it alone. Who are ya workin' with? This James dude?"
So, they had brought me back for more information. On one hand, it was only to be expected, considering there was little else they could take from me now. On the other, it also meant that either they hadn't contacted Cobalt, or my employer wasn't in any hurry to get me released.
A cold knot chilled my stomach. I was on my own.
"You want to know about my team?" I offered. The project was classified, not the group of people working on it.
He nodded as he plopped himself down in his chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankles.
"Your team, yeah. Tell us 'bout 'em."
I could breathe a little easier now that the man wasn't looming over me. I could think, too, and came to the conclusion that it was better to speak on my own terms than have the red-haired degenerate resort to violence again. With luck, I could find a way to play along long enough to make it out of here in one piece.
"Okay," I sighed. "Well, the team is made up of a dozen people in total, supervised by myself and two others, each of us responsible for our own field. One of the two is Victor Ermine, a theoretical physicist and de facto project lead. A brilliant man."
And quite possibly dead. Eager to avoid the distressing thought, I rushed onward to the next team member.
"The other is James Hartley."
I had intended to say more, but the sudden lump in my throat made me pause and swallow hard. Before I could continue, Reno piped up.
"The illustrious James, huh? What does he do? Besides you, I mean."
I froze and my mouth opened in surprise at such shameless innuendo, but I quickly recovered and sent him a dirty look.
"Excuse me?"
The venom in my tone didn't deter the persistent man. If anything, it egged him on.
"C'mon, sweetheart, y'know what I mean. He's the one you're screwin', right?"
Degrees, experience, qualifications – none of these seemed to matter a damn once a woman was accused of sleeping her way to the top. I had no patience for such insinuation, especially from this crude little runt, who for some reason delighted in taking cheap shots at me.
"And why exactly do you just assume I'm 'screwing' a colleague?" I snapped.
"I ain't assumin' nothin'," he drawled, unfazed by my hostility. "Just puttin' two and two together, doll. You're wearin' a ring on your left ring finger, which 'round here means weddin' plans. Every time you talk 'bout James, you touch it and your voice does this funny lil' thing. Plain as pancakes, yo."
Was I that transparent? Could this guy really read me that easily? What an unpleasant thought. Having to admit to myself that I had underestimated him by making my own hasty assumptions was even worse.
"How observant of you," I bit out in clipped tones.
"Yup," he grinned. "I'm an astute observer of the intricacies of human nature, yo."
His whole manner of speaking changed as he uttered the line, complete with painstakingly correct pronunciation and exaggerated enunciation. It gave me the impression he was impersonating someone, though I was pretty sure this someone, whoever it was, would have foregone the "yo" at the end. It also made him sound even more unbearably smug.
"Careful there. That's several multisyllable words in one sentence. You might hurt yourself."
I should have been more cautious, but the snide remark just slipped out. I was hurting and angry; angry at myself, at him, at James, at the whole damned universe for putting me in this situation, and Reno had a knack for bringing my fury to the surface. While it may have been an understandable lapse of judgment considering my frayed nerves, it didn't make mouthing off at the man who had nearly taken my eye any less stupid. I tensed and held my breath, watching the amused grin twist into a derisive smirk.
"Fuck you too, Fitz. And answer the damn question."
Was this the revenge he'd chosen? Demanding that I expose the private details of my personal relationships?
"I fail to see the relevance of discussing my sex life," I stated, mustering up enough self-control to keep my voice neutral, although rather icy.
The offensive smile widened as Reno leaned back in the chair, hands clasped behind his head. It made his hair stand up even more. Internally, I scoffed. An uncouth haircut for an uncouth man.
"What's wrong with sex?" he asked, conjuring up an unconvincing expression of innocence.
"Nothing at all."
"Then why dontcha wanna talk 'bout it?"
He was taunting me, the bastard. He'd found a sore spot, a wound so fresh that it was still bleeding, and was gleefully poking at it in the hopes of a reaction.
Had I ever wanted to punch someone this much before? I considered myself a fundamentally peaceful, harmless creature, but the redhead in front of me lured out the worst in me.
"Oh, I'm happy to talk about sex. I just don't want to discuss my sex life with you."
"Aw, too bad." He shrugged with an air of bored nonchalance. "Whatever. It wasn't the question I was talkin' about."
...Nope. Never before had I felt such an urge to plant my fist in someone's grinning, smug face.
"Your James," the insufferable man continued, "what was his job on the team?"
"Chief engineer," I muttered, my cheeks burning.
"A biologist, a physicist and an engineer," Reno mused, studying me. "Now I'm curious, yo. What kinda work needs a combo like that?"
"I'm not authorized to say."
It was an automatic response, drilled into us Cobalt employees after signing our contracts. The redhead let out a dramatic sigh and shook his head.
"Fitz, Fitz, Fitz. You were doin' so well. Don't ruin it now, honey."
There was a slight shift in the light glinting off of his partner's shades and multiple piercings. It drew my attention to the bald man and clued me in on the changing mood. Rude had tilted his face toward his colleague and grew perfectly still, as if expecting a sign or reaction.
The humiliation drained away as a vague sense of unease stirred in my gut.
"Contact Cobalt Industries," I hurried to explain. "Talk to the R&D department. The department head will answer any project questions."
The redhead's smirk faded and soon disappeared altogether. Reno removed his hands from the back of his head and slapped them onto the table, leaning forward like a cat ready to pounce. I flinched and drew back a little, alarmed by the sudden change in demeanor.
"We'd love to," he said slowly, pinning me with narrowed eyes. "Shame that Cobalt Industries don't exist."
I frowned and did a double take. Had I heard him right?
"What?"
"It don't fuckin' exist. There's no such company in our records, yo."
I stared at him in bewilderment. They hadn't heard of Cobalt Industries? Until now I had assumed I was still in the same country, but this misadventure must have brought me farther than I thought.
"The same goes for you, Fitz. There's no record of a Therèse FitzEvan anywhere. You're a ghost, darlin'."
My mouth fell open as my mind struggled to comprehend the information. What was this? It didn't make any sense.
"W-what? Anywhere? That can't be. I don't... You must have spelled it wrong!"
It wouldn't be the first time someone had replaced the "v" with a "w". Reno, however, gave me a condescending look.
"Did I spell your name wrong?" he pondered out loud, as if entertaining the possibility. "Well, gee, let's see. I guess it depends on whether or not you spelled it right on your own goddamn armor."
The escalating apprehension quelled any annoyance I might have felt upon being on the receiving end of such dripping sarcasm; it even surpassed the embarrassment for missing the obvious.
"Th-there has to be some mistake," I stuttered.
"Yeah. The mistake was you lyin' to us. D'ya really think we won't check the facts?"
His voice had become smooth velvet again, his face an emotionless mask. I shrunk back in the chair, feeling my heart speed up.
"No! I didn't lie! Th-there must be a mistake in your records! I didn't lie!"
Fear made words bubble out with little forethought. My mind was failing me; all rational thought was slipping through my fingers as I groped around for some sort of sensible argument. My gaze flickered from one man to the other, both witnessing my pleading with stony faces. Why didn't they believe me? What the hell was going on here?
"Sorry, babe, your story just don't add up."
The chair scraped against the floor as Reno pushed it backwards and straightened his lanky body.
"I may sound like a slum punk who hasn't had a day of schoolin' in his whole life – and, y'know, it ain't that far from the truth, to be honest – but I ain't the damn fool you seem to think I am, Doctor."
He sauntered around the table and continued behind me while he spoke. I could see him in the mirror, slouching behind me with his head tilted to the side as he watched me. Those eyes didn't match his deceptively light and casual tone.
"Cut the crap already. Who are ya, really? AVALANCHE?"
He removed one hand from his pockets and traced an old scar on my bare upper arm with his fingertips. I tried to shy away, but his fingers followed until they had completed their exploratory path. Flustered by the unsettling and unwelcome touch, I could barely focus on his words.
"A-Avalanche? What...?"
Again he moved, pacing over to my side with lazy steps. Intuitively, I mirrored his movements; shifting my restrained form to keep as much distance between us as I could manage. My shoulders were so tense that my hands began to tremble.
"What's with the Cobalt bullshit? Tryin' to buy time for somethin'? Expectin' a visit from your friends, is that it? Were ya scopin' out the place for 'em?"
"No!" My tongue darted out to wet my lips as I tried to think, knowing I had to give them something. "It... It was experimental technology that... went wrong. There was a... an incident at the Cobalt facility holding our lab, and... and..."
My attempt at an explanation trailed off as my disconcerted state made it too difficult to concentrate long enough to determine what I could say without violating my contract. The fact that I myself wasn't one hundred percent sure of the specifics of how I could have ended up here didn't make it any easier.
Reno sniggered and shook his head.
"What, your secret experiment blew up in your face in a place that's so fuckin' hush-hush that it don't even exist?" he sneered. "Y'know, you're not s'posed to stick to the same bullshit story after you've been found out, babe."
I stared at him, helpless and at a loss for words. How could I explain, if they weren't even willing to listen?
What little, superficial composure I had managed to scrounge up at the beginning, was now completely gone. My heart was racing, pounding a wild beat against my ribs. Beads of cold sweat formed on my forehead, trapping and flattening my short curls against my skin.
"Look, I just woke up in this place. I was never supposed to come here. That's all I know!"
In the blink of an eye, all traces of humor vanished from the man's face and voice.
"Wrong answer."
He bent forward and brought his lips close to my ear.
"C'mon, FitzEvan," Reno murmured, his tobacco-tinged breath hot on my skin. "Last chance to make it easy on yourself."
I was panicking. I recognized the direction this conversation was taking, only this time I didn't have a hazard suit to give them. I had no answers to the questions they were asking, either. Not the answers they were looking for, that is.
"Please! I don't know what else to tell you!"
In the mirror, I saw the redhead press his mouth into a grim line and glance at his partner, who gave the slightest shake of his head. My breath hitched. They didn't believe me. They didn't believe me, so they were going to hurt me, and there was nothing I could say to stop them.
The fabric of Reno's disheveled suit rustled softly as he straightened up. I closed my eyes and choked down a sob. I didn't want to see what he did next.
The door burst open, making me jump and yelp in surprise for the second time that day, then whimper at the pain shooting through my side. Both of my interrogators whipped their heads around toward the cause of the intrusion. Another man in a dark suit stood in the doorway.
"Sorry to interrupt the party, but the boss wants to see us."
I held my breath, too afraid to move a single muscle. I couldn't be this lucky. Nobody was this lucky, except in the movies.
"What, now?" Reno exclaimed, sounding incredulous.
"Yeah. We've got a situation."
The red-haired man huffed and rounded the table again, clapping the bald man on the shoulder.
"Let's go, partner."
Just like that, they dropped what they'd been doing, as if having to postpone my torment was of no more consequence than an interrupted cigarette break. Neither of them even looked at me on their way out.
I was still trembling when two guards arrived to take me back to my cell. The metal door closed with a heavy clang and I was left alone, curled into a sitting fetal position on the narrow cot, my arms wrapped tight around my knees. I fought to keep my composure, but it was only a matter of seconds before the first sob broke through.
I couldn't take much more of this. I wasn't ashamed to admit it. I just wanted to go home. I wanted to wake up in my own bed, next to James, and find that this had all just been an insane, horrible nightmare.
Damn you, Jamie! He was the reason I had landed in this huge mess. How could he have done this to me, to us all? I wanted, desperately, to believe he had betrayed us because he had been forced to do it, or due to some mistaken belief that it would be for the greater good.
I realized I was touching the ring, twirling it around my finger. A textbook example of an engagement ring, which James had offered me after a textbook example of a romantic dinner. He'd never been very imaginative. Sweet, smart, ambitious; but not imaginative. Certainly not creative enough to come up with a plan like that, to go behind all of our backs and sell us out to a bunch of glorified thugs for his own gain. Right?
My fingers twisted the ring around and around, faster and harder, until I yanked the damned thing off and threw it against the wall as hard as I could.
God, I wanted to come up with a sensible – forgivable – reason James had done what he did. I wanted to, but I was failing.