Chapter Ten
—
(Three weeks since kidnapping. [Taking place between Anya's two previously mentioned jobs])
Loid had been right.
He didn't know if he should be happy or upset. A rage and an overwhelming relief. Severe disappointment in himself he didn't put this together sooner.
W.I.S.E. kept tabs on the S.S.S. Their activity, cases, anything that could be useful to them.
It was no secret to them that Yuri and his colleagues had taken down experimentation labs in the past.
Ones for animals, but also for humans.
After looking into it, Franky confirmed that subjects were often found wearing clothes akin to hospital gowns. But not quite.
So now he needed to know: Which lab, and where was it?
Human experimentation labs were infamously difficult to find. The secret police had only ever found two.
Loid was out of his jurisdiction, here, as well. W.I.S.E. obtained information and used it for the good of the country. They didn't storm labs, they didn't search them out. That was the police's job.
The handler had told him it might be better to tip off the police once he found the lab, but he wasn't going to leave his daughter in someone else's hands.
The handler was at least giving him a choice.
Everything else in Loid's life was pushed to the side as he put all his effort into his next steps.
The labs were near impossible find. He had no leads. There was nothing showing him the way to go, but he'd figure it out.
He was Twilight after all.
He was a freakin' spy.
—
(Week Four, Present Time.)
Anya watched the skull's top come loose from his head, the doctor placing it aside. Prepared his tools. It made her feel sick every time.
Another body.
Same question asked: Who killed him.
It was usually what the client wanted to know when they were brought in. Or they'd want to know if they were a rat. If they gave away information. If they were a thief.
Untrusting place, the underworld.
"Go ahead." Kai stood beside her as he always did when she read dead people. Ready to pass the information along.
He was the only reason she didn't look away. Squeeze her eyes tight when the doctor took out the saw. Protect her ears from the sound of it cutting bone away.
He expected her learn how to do all of this herself when she was older, the thought enough to make her hurl.
Anya could feel herself getting sick already, but she focused, closing her eyes.
This one was hard to see through. Foggier than any other of these minds she's read before. Absolutely steeped in terror and pain in his last moments.
She pushed through, brushing aside memories useless to her.
Sometimes she could follow where the fear and pain stemmed from. Permeating all around the dead memories but strongest at its source.
The fear was so strong it was easy.
She came upon it quickly, taking her breath away as she dug into it.
The man sat broken on the ground, twisted limbs, bruised ribs and jaw. He couldn't feel his left leg anymore. His gaze was aimed at the ground, groggy and out of breath.
A pair of black boots were in his vision, the end of a cloak perhaps, hanging down mid-calf.
The man was so tired. He couldn't take this anymore.
His memories were hard to see or hear through, but she could feel the intentions well enough. Words trickling through here and there.
Anya could've sworn she heard the faceless person say her name.
He told the person standing over him what they wanted to hear in answer.
When he looked up revealing her Mama, Anya's heart nearly jumped out of her chest in joy while also being entirely aware of how her mama's victims felt in her presence.
Anya wasn't scared of her.
But the man was downright terrified. He almost welcomed the blade to his throat as she slashed it in one deft movement. Welcoming blessed death.
Anya gasped, rocketed back like waking from a dream. A hand to her throat, slit but a moment ago, crying.
She bawled as she convulsed, grabbing for the bucket Fisher always prepared.
'Mama is looking for Anya.' She thought over and over. 'Mama is looking for Anya.'
She didn't know she needed concrete proof until right then. Mama wasn't forgetting her. She wasn't going to give up on her. Mama was looking for her.
A well of relief swelled. Raw emotion she didn't know what to do with, spilling out of her. Her chest racked and heaved, gasps of air hard to come by.
Kai clicked his tongue in annoyance. "That's enough. What did you see?"
Anya wiped at her eyes and nose, sobbing between words. "He was-hiccup-wear-ing a- hiccup-mask." She lied.
"Calm down! There's no need to cry over it." He stated.
"It was scawwy." She cried, not a lie from the man's perspective.
Kai pinched his nose, head bowing toward the floor. He was not pleased.
"Why was he killed?" He ground out, losing patience with the child.
Anya caught his tone and reeled it in as best she could, still hiccupping through her words. "He-he didn't know." Her voice shook.
She wasn't a good liar, but her crying seemed to cover it up.
Kai didn't press further.
Occasionally this happened.
He didn't like it, but he couldn't do much about it.
Anya could tell this was going to put him in a bad mood for the rest of the day, but she didn't care.
Her Mama was coming for her.
—-
There was a spark.
A ray of hope that made all the killing worth it.
An event for the underworlds most influential, attended by a child of all things.
No more than five. Green eyes and horns. Dark brown hair.
. . .Dark brown hair. . .
Yor's heart leapt with anticipation until those words. Anya looked young for her age, that didn't surprise her. But. . .
Dark brown hair. . .
It was still a lead. She would follow it until it died.
Who else wore horns and had green eyes? It may not be her, but it was the best hope she'd had in four weeks.
She'd tracked down several of the attendees from that event. Going through criminals until she found one with names and wrung them out of her, going from one to the next on that list.
Many had seen the little girl. None of them knew where she came from.
That was fine.
She would kill and torture them all if she had to.
—-
Yuri grew tired of this woman very quickly.
They interrogated and tortured her, even tried to keep her from sleeping properly, but after a week she still didn't break.
It wasn't uncommon. Spies were trained for this. But they'd be tired. Losing spirit.
'Susan Hopkins' was not one of those people. She was as defiant and unbreakable as ever. If possible, more so than when they started. As if the experience reaffirmed her dedication.
Yuri needed to change his tactics. Something that would work.
Using a loved one was out the window. She didn't have any.
Spies didn't have any. They were notorious in the SSS for having nothing to tie them down. It was why they could work like they did. Moving from place to place. A new identity for every case.
Yuri stood outside the interrogation room, watching the woman through the two-way mirror. She sat alone, a bloodied face, a broken hand.
Interrogating a spy was like trying to move a boulder without the right leverage.
They'd been asking about Anya, but she'd given nothing. Hadn't screamed or cried. Not a sound. The pain seemingly nothing to her.
Yuri was sure she'd been hired.
They raided her apartment, no sign of Anya. Raided everywhere else she was affiliated with, no sign of Anya.
Which meant she was most likely handed off to someone else.
It could have been to the agency she worked with, but it didn't add up.
Spies don't kidnap. Spies gather intel. They sneak into places they're not supposed to be. They use information to further their cause.
Which left the other option: a hired spy.
Not common, but not unheard of.
Most spies worked within an agency, towards their countries futures. While few, worked for themselves, leasing their services to anyone who could afford them.
Her client could've used muscle, the most obvious choice, but they hired a spy.
A spy that handled it quietly, deftly, before anyone was the wiser. Covering her tracks with no way for anyone to find the girl.
'Susan's' client did not want to be found, and made sure they wouldn't be.
She kept her mouth shut. Gave nothing away. Made it impossible to get anything out of her.
Yuri was getting impatient
He needed that leverage.
—
It depressed Becky that she had gotten used to a routine without Anya.
She didn't wait for the bus anymore, before remembering she wasn't coming. She wasn't surprised when she no longer heard her talking about world peace whenever Desmond showed up.
She no longer turned her head, expecting Anya to be sitting next to her.
It scared her that it could stay that way. That Anya would never be found. That'd she never see her best friend again.
A dull ache of resigned acceptance that this was how it was for now. An almost normalcy of Anya's absence taking affect.
That scared her too.
The thought she could forget her best friend if Anya was missing for long enough.
She didn't want to think that way. If she gave up hope that she'd be back, it felt like that could really happen. Four weeks had felt like an eternity to Becky, and an eternity was too long as it was.
She hoped she was okay. That she wasn't starving somewhere. Or freezing. Or hurt. Or. . . .
No.
She couldn't go there again.
She stared blankly at her empty notebook, wishing to go home.
—
Damian didn't know it was possible for Blackbell to become more listless. But now it was more resigned. A slow acceptance to her absence.
He couldn't deny that he started to feel it too.
He didn't miss her. No. That was just ridiculous. But he hoped she was okay.
Damian put his pencil down, closed his books as the bell rang, signalling the end of class for lunch.
It almost disturbed him how unaware Blackbell was of his presence these days. He'd walk past her in the halls, when he climbed to his seat, in the cafeteria.
Not so much as a glance. She didn't notice the other kids either.
Damian figured she was lost in her thoughts. Zoning out to everything else.
He had done that a couple times too, he admitted.
Most everyone in class did, he thought. It was so present in their minds that one of their classmates was missing. But it wasn't as big a deal to the rest of them.
Blackbell was on her own. She hadn't made other close friends. She and Anya were inseparable. They did everything together. He couldn't think of a time when she really hung out with the other kids.
When he walked into the cafeteria, he easily spotted Blackbell sitting on her own again, reaffirming that idea.
Sitting.
By herself.
'Whatever.' He turned away to order his food.
Waited for Emile and Ewen.
Turned to see Blackbell staring off into space, her food untouched. A fork in her hand, forgotten.
'Who cares?!' He looked away.
Ewen and Emile joined him.
Something compelled him to look back again. 'Why won't this feeling go away?! It's so annoying!'
"Gggmrmmrmgmfgm" He grumbled, which were in fact, not words.
"What was that boss?" Emile turned as Damian walked away.
The two boys followed.
"Grmmngemnge." He grumbled, which were in fact, not words.
"What is he saying?" Ewen asked.
"Mmmmmm." Emile shrugged.
Blackbell jumped as Damian placed his tray rather loudly on her table.
"Grmvmgramfermamb." He continued grumbling, which were in fact, not words.
"Desmond?! What are you doing? Why are you being so loud?" Blackbell chided.
"Nothing! Shut up!" Damian dug into his food, refusing to look at her or his friends.
Ewen and Emile gently placed their trays at the table, eyeing Damian.
Blackbell picked up on their confusion and decided to leave it.
She didn't feel like eating alone, anyway.