[SEQUEL TO GUN FOR HIRE]
Chapter 12: Am I Real?
"This is where you'll stay," the courser announced as he entered a spacious room, gesturing down one hallway. "To the right you have your bedroom and all necessary amenities in the bathroom." He waved his arm in the opposite direction. "To the left you have the kitchen and access to the balcony, with a place to eat out there, enjoy the view, or indulge in the reading material provided for you." He turned around to face Piper and gave a slight bow as he crossed his arm across his torso, as if he was some sort of butler. "I will be stationed outside your door at all times until I am relieved by your new guard. Let me know if there is anything you require, or if you would like to be escorted somewhere."
Piper took a deep breath, and strained a smile at the end of it. "Alright, I will. Thank you." She was left to her own devices when the synth excused himself and left the... "Apartment, I guess." She wandered around and took note of what was allotted to her, feeling a small pang of jealousy over the abundance of even the simplest luxuries.
"A girl could get real comfortable here. Too comfortable..." She took off her black coat and slung it over the living room couch, then searched the pockets for her notepad as she reviewed what she wrote down during the interview with the Director. She didn't buy everything he tried to sell her, nor did she appreciate the lack of compassion - and apology and just plain responsibility - over Nick's death. Her teeth worried her lip, and she tried to stave back the tears as grief finally found a moment and privacy to seek release.
Desperate for a distraction, Piper went down the left to the kitchen, looking for the fridge. Or a fridge. She arched her brow and stepped up to what looked like a dispenser of sorts, and ran her finger down the rows of buttons as she read what they were. "G36, H20, J72? What the heck do these even mean?"
Out of curiosity, she pressed a random button and heard something land in the chute. She knelt down and warily pushed the lid back, grabbing what looked like a bar, and frowned. "This is my dinner? The Institute seriously needs to get out more." She looked up in thought at that, then hummed to herself and chuckled as she opened the wrapper of the bar. "On second thought, maybe not a good idea." She snacked on the bar as she continued her little tour and went out to the balcony; she was surprised to see her red coat and hat folded on one of the chairs.
"They recovered this...?"
That was surprisingly possibly a touch bit sweet of them. She glanced around until she stuffed and held her 'dinner' in her mouth, freeing her hands to inspect her coat. Every single stitch was combed over, and when she had gotten to her breast pocket, her heart sank; there was no evidence of fresh threads tying a certain hole closed. She wouldn't ever forget that day even if her life depended on it - which it did that time, when it also depended how a war medal rested inside her pocket.
This coat was just a doppelganger.
Maybe they had her real belongings stored somewhere? They had to be - alongside Garrett's. Hopefully. There was absolutely no way that stubborn man would let the Institute off so easily about his guns, and getting them grimy with their breaths. The memory of her prank tugged the corner of her mouth - and 'nutritious' bar - in a smirk.
"Oi, this isn't funny! I fuckin' called it, and y'treated me like a weirdo! They got my baby filthy..."
Piper idly folded the fake coat to set it back on the chair, heading to the railing as thoughts drifted with simulated clouds. She desperately needed to see Garrett, but she also just as desperately needed to play her cards right, to pretend she was upset he had betrayed her and sold her out; otherwise, if she overplayed her hand and showed how much she cared about him, then the Institute would use him as leverage for whatever they now intended to do with her.
Suffice to say, there was no doubt in her mind that 'Shaun' would want her to work his interview into an article and circulate it around the Commonwealth. She would, yeah - type the article they'd want to see on the terminal they'd inevitably try to push on her again; then she'd write the article they wouldn't want to see down on her notepad. She had to write the lies in a way to appease the Institute but retain skepticism among readers, and that was not going to be an easy task.
Piper already had a headache just thinking about it. She'd be caught if she tried that route. Maybe she could try and time the release of the articles? Or just write a raving review without a speck of flaw, praising the Institute to paint a picture that was obviously too good to be true. But how would she get what she'd written out into circulation, anyways? She needed a way out of here. She needed someone she could trust to get it out there. John? He might be her ticket out - at least, her article's ticket out, and he could safely spread it around his settlements. It was less risky for being infiltrated with spies... Hopefully.
Better than Diamond City.
Gears turned as ideas and plans and backup plans began to formulate in her brain, and she pretended to busy herself with the stack of comic books in case if she was somehow being watched. She didn't see any ravens or birds inside here; but if the Institute could make cameras out of ravens, there was no telling what else they've accomplished. A craving laced her tongue as the stress mounted, and she demolished her dinner to race to dessert, scrounging her pockets for a cigarette and the gold-plated flip lighter. She lit her smoke and chugged it for dear life, lovingly running her thumb across the word engraved in the lid.
"Newsflash," she mouthed silently, smirking.
Moments later, she heard footsteps and jumped in her skin when the courser suddenly appeared out on the balcony. He took her jacket and hat as if he expected those items to be there, and smiled innocently at her. "My apologies, Ms. Wright. This is an embarrassment; I have remembered that these clothes have not been properly washed and prepared for you. I will take these at once. Also, please be advised that we carry a strict no-smoking policy in this facility; however, the Director has approved that you may use the vents in the bathroom in order to smoke. Is that satisfactory?"
"O-oh... That's fine."
Hell no, none of this was 'satisfactory'. She wasn't the least bit remorseful of the ashes that collected at her feet as she stubbed the cigarette; they were taking away one of her few precious stress relievers, but that wasn't anywhere near a priority right now. Not only did the courser's conveniently timed intrusion confirm that she was being watched, but that there may have been something hiding in that coat. She forced a smile and hadn't relaxed even after the courser left, though played it all nonchalant with the comic books as she vengefully spread the ashes with the heel of her boot.
Her mind raced with questions, namely: why was her jacket and hat out here, anyways? Wouldn't they be in the living room, or the bedroom? She reached for the next comic book and noticed something small was wedged in the stack. She slid the remaining books in her lap and pretended to leaf through the bottoms until she took the two the object was hidden between, tilting the books until it slipped into her lap. A... Notepad?
Dread gnarled around Piper's gut. She opened her legs to allow the notepad to fall, hoping any potential hawks would just figure she had dropped her own rather than picking up a second. She didn't like the suggestion behind it; if it was to be a gift to her from the Institute, it wouldn't be hidden. She set the comic books aside and got up to lean against the railing, taking out her pencil as she reviewed 'her' notepad.
Sketches adorned the first two pages of the view she saw right now, a style of feather-light strokes she immediately recognized. Her heart stopped on the next page; a clue.
Mr. Always Right knows Wright from Wrong.
Piper struggled to quell the quivering in her hands. Her nightmare had come to life, and the proof - her own handwriting - was right in her palm. The worst part?
She was left alone at the mercy of one of her greatest fears.
But who will know who is Always Right?
x - x - x
Gat wasn't sure what to think as he sat in the corner of the classroom, and did his best not to cringe through the honking and squeaking and grinding of objects that were apparently called 'instruments'. From what he read, instruments were responsible for the music that played on the radio. This chaos was killing his ears, but he still managed to beam a grin every time Rose looked at him, all excited with this massive instrument that was twice her size.
"This is her favorite class," Garnet stated with a notable sense of pride in her voice that Gat had rarely heard. He leaned to the side and bumped shoulders with his sister.
"What's that she's playin', anyways?"
"A che-low, I think. I'll ask the teacher after class."
"You think we're allowed to pick one up and play with her?"
Garnet arched her brow at him. An amused smile danced on her lips as she subtly jerked her head towards the organized chaos unfolding beside him. "You want to join that?"
"As good a time as any to learn. They'll be like camouflage for my own shite screeching." He grinned devilishly when she laughed, and it was a sound that settled his fraying nerves - another he rarely heard. He noticed Rose's head snap to them, looking so happy to hear mirth from her mum. He shot her a thumbs up and she did the same with the... Che-low stick in hand, or whatever it was called. It motivated him to bounce up to the front of the classroom, not unaware of the way of how uncomfortable the teacher looked upon him approaching her - but she still strained a polite smile.
"How may I help you, Mr. Butler? Is there something you're concerned with, with Rose?"
"Nah, it's all good innit? Was just wonderin' if y'happen to have one of those thingamajigs that she's playin', or if y'have somethin' else hanging around. Wanted to learn with her."
At that, the tension in the teacher's shoulders dispersed and the strain melted from her smile. "A cello! Yes, of course, I believe that's a wonderful idea!"
Whoa, there, tone down the cheeriness just a wee bit. Gat squirmed uncomfortably and felt heat throb at the base of his throat. "Uh, so like... Where can I grab one?" He shuffled after her when she lead the way to another smaller room where rows of instruments were protectively secured in glass cases. He whistled, reaching out to the one that looked similar to the one Rose was... Making noise with. The teacher's hand suddenly came into view and she hesitantly put her body in between him and the case.
"Erm, my apologies, Mr. Butler, but allow me." She smiled apologetically as she turned away, stealing numerous looks over her shoulder. He sighed and stepped a few paces back, frowning when she was visibly far more at ease with the distance between them.
"Y'ain't gotta pretend with me, teach, but I can promise ya that y'ain't gotta worry with me either. I won't do nothin' to nobody so long as the Institute won't gimme reason to."
"And what reason would that be?"
"Simple. Don't hurt my family. I don't care what happens to me, but if someone lays a hand on my kid-"
"Even if she's not yours?"
That shut Gat up; how in the world did the Institute have access to all this information about him - about Rose? They would have had to follow his family since mum's death, or maybe they've been poking needles in Rose; or maybe Garnet has willingly - better not have been unwillingly - relinquished what their past was like? His jaw clenched painfully tight, but he still managed through forced teeth. "She don't have to be mine to be my kid." He waved towards the glass case. "C'mon. Gimme it already. I wanna go out there and play with-" he narrowed his eyes as he growled. "My kid. Y'catchin' my drift now, teach?"
"Mrs. Bouchard," she interjected quietly, but nodded and deftly removed the che-low from it's case. She turned and stared at him, then his hands, then at a dispenser.
"Jesus, I've been here this whole time." Gat groaned as he went over to the dispenser, pumping the liquid as he spread it throughout his hands and between fingers. He strode back and held them out. "Squeaky clean. Better?"
"Much, thank you." Bouchard smiled and handily gifted the che-low. She reached towards him when he turned, staring at his elbow. His face fell flat. He set the che-low down and went back to the dispenser as a joke, slathering the sanitizer all over his elbow before he went and held it out to her with a playful smirk. She rolled her eyes but hadn't grabbed his elbow, and something twisted inside of him. It just wasn't the same, jerking peoples' chains.
She wasn't Piper.
"I just wanted to apologize if I had offended you, Mr. Butler. I didn't mean to; I was just intrigued by your paternal instinct with..." Her smile grew a little wider. "Your child."
That brought a sincere smile to his face. "There we go, yer gettin' the hang of it now." He had a spring in his steps as he left for the adjoining classroom, but stopped short of the door. He carefully set the che-low on his foot and raked a hand through his hair, steeling himself for a confession he wasn't sure why he was sharing. But when he looked at the teacher, there seemed to be a genuine interest rather than a twisted scientific need to dissect him.
"Uh, well Rose... She uh... Well you already know who her real pa is. You prolly already know what happened to him too." Gat sucked in a slow breath when the teacher clasped her hands in front of her as she nodded, and she surprisingly had an empathetic expression that plucked at a heart string. "She just deserves better, y'know? A chance to grow up as a normal kid. My sis and I, we were so scared of our pa that... We were gonna bury Rose so that she wouldn't hafta suffer the way we did. But that day, I thought, why kill somethin' that could be good? Why the hell can't we bury the bad - the fear?"
"So you decided to kill your father, and you saved her."
"Saved her? Nah, not at all." Gat blinked quickly to stave off the tears when his eyes burned with an emotion he was wholly confused about, and he hastily turned away to hide as he picked up the che-low, drumming his fingers along the door frame as he peeked in the classroom and watched Rose. Her eyes met his right away and she waved excitedly for him to come, when she noticed what he was holding. Her energy was infectious even across the room, and it translated into his grin as he looked behind him at Mrs. Bouchard.
"She saved me."
"Mr. Butler." The voice came from out of nowhere and he nearly dropped the che-low, his head zooming on a swivel to meet the emotionless eyes of a courser. Gat's face fell flat, not at the courser's usual dead voice, but the usual treatment that was largely reminiscent of a dog and it's master. "Your presence has been requested, sir. I am here to escort you."
"Again? Who is it now?" Gat groaned, rolling his eyes when Bouchard squeezed herself in to take the instrument away from him. He caught Garnet's worried gaze and waved it off, steeling himself for the cheese when he looked at Rose - who seemed utterly heartbroken that they wouldn't get to play. He kissed his palm and 'blew' the kiss to her with a wink, to which she mocked grabbing and pressed his kiss over her chest. It lifted his spirits, only for it to be destroyed by the courser.
"Ms. Wright, sir. Please follow me."
...Everything was going to fall apart right before his eyes again.
x - x - x
Piper hid her black coat in the bedroom. She patted her backpockets to make sure she still had both her notepads - well her notepad and 'her' notepad, or were they both about to be 'her'? - and paced in the living room, trying to collect her thoughts and composure. There wasn't a part of her that wasn't shaking inside, and she swore her legs were going to give out on her at any second. But no matter how scary, she had to do this - had to find the truth.
Questions buzzed in her brain as she made a mental checklist of who to interrogate in this place. She needed to inject herself deeper, to gain the Director's trust so that she could talk to whomever was in his inner circle. She wasn't sure what she would find then, but maybe whatever information she unearthed would either be able to be used against the Institute, or be forced to change it.
Change couldn't come from someone who was a synth, though. If she was the Director's pawn, then she needed to know just how much leverage she was working with - and then find out where the real Piper was.
The real Piper...
Anxiety jolted through her at the thought, and she pinched herself as hard as she could, for what little good it would do. She wouldn't be able to tell. Hopefully Garrett did.
Hopefully she was the one who would be able to tell if he was the real Garrett too.
Beeps alerted her and froze her in her tracks when the door opened too quickly for her to even compose herself and get her bearings. She stood staring as if the grey orbs that snapped to hers were holding her at gunpoint. She certainly felt like she was a hostage right now. The courser lingered behind until Garrett glared behind him, muttering something she couldn't hear; and then the synth let them be as he left.
Silence hung over them, choking the air right out of her lungs. She was burning up, and her eyes burned, and her tongue burned with so many words left unsaid. She didn't know where to start - where to finish. Emotion balled up in her throat and she was frustrated when he just stood there, never unflinching, not a speck of feeling betrayed in his gaze.
"Do something," she croaked miserably.
Garrett sucked in a sharp breath. "What do you want me to do?"
"Anything." Her hands tightened into white-knuckled fists, nails digging and stinging in her palm. She couldn't hold on anymore. She was falling apart - for his inaction screamed everything. Her head fell and she squeezed her eyes as tightly as possible, but the tears still leaked through with her plea. "Tell me I'm real."
Footsteps echoed in her brain, each heavier than the last as he neared. Hope flared when his arms wrapped around her, however reluctantly. And then she realized why. He made no move to do anything else - to say anything else. He never kissed her, whether her lips or her hair. He began to tremble, and then the dam broke when he sucked in another sharp - sharper - breath. Her fingers twisted in his shirt as she clung tightly to his chest, her own chest tightening to the point she was wheezing just to breathe, struggling as if she was trying to suck it all through a straw when he murmured ever so quietly.
"I wish I could."
No. This wasn't real. It couldn't be - she was breathing and thinking and feeling exactly as she always had. She felt nothing but love for the man holding her, and in his arms, she felt a flurry of emotions as he always made her feel. She still felt safe with him, despite what he was saying. None of this made sense. He didn't make sense.
"How do you know, Garrett? How the heck can you tell just by looking at me, when nobody could ever figure out synths before? It's taken me years with McDonough and... And how do you know?" Piper demanded weakly, but buried her face. She sought the truth, and she got it, but she was terrified of looking at it in the eyes.
Strength was sucked from her knees when warm breaths seeped into her scalp, but it wasn't comforting - because soon enough she felt cold tears. He was shaking immensely, and he held on ever tighter. "I'm sorry," he whispered, voice cracking pathetically. "I'm so sorry."
"Just answer me! How do you know?!"
"Your eyes," he managed, but then a series of beeps ripped them apart and the door opened. Two coursers rushed to Garrett, and adrenaline spiked too late when one's arm was in the air, needle in hand. It sank into Garrett's neck and he was unconscious in seconds, dragged out by the coursers before she even had the chance to think about snapping out of shock and acting to protect him.
"Wait!" Piper rushed after them, but then the door slid shut on her face. She pressed the button to open it, but it flashed red and a robotic voice chimed from the ceiling.
"Access denied."
Doors slid shut behind her, cutting off access to both the balcony and the bedroom. This was just liked when she was kidnapped by the Gunners, only that this cell had more amenities than Garrett had first given her. All this time, and she was still a hostage. But this time, she wasn't just a hostage in this building, but in this body, and in these memories. The fear came and the fear passed faster than she thought it would - was she still in shock? Regardless, even if she didn't know if she was the real Piper Wright, or if that was the real Garrett Butler... There was one thing she did know.
They were real.
x - x - x
Blaring alarms made him roll right off whatever he was laying on. Leo crashed on the ground with a grunt, staring at the ceiling in a daze. He groaned as he twisted and grabbed on to the bed to help sit up, only to find one arm listening. Horror gripped him when he looked at his other arm - corded sinews of metal bars simulated a bicep, metal that ran all the way from his shoulder to his fingertips. He opened his mouth to scream.
Nothing came out.
Leo fell back on his haunches when the alarms shut off, and somebody jumped on his bed. Adam. The cheeky scientist clapped gleefully, a grin on his face. "Good morning, L-3-0! I see you've made the wonderful discovery of your new augmentations." He sat up on the bed and swung his legs over the edge towards Leo, laughing and jumping off the side when Leo tried to make a swipe for an ankle to break it. "I've yet to program the voice modulator for you, but I believe you'll be satisfied with the results. Ms. Wright will never suspect you now!"
Leo fought and fought to get something out of his throat, but not even air came out. And the nightmare set in. He pushed and rocked about until he grabbed on to the bed to help himself up, pleading and screaming inside his brain to wake the fuck up as he numbly walked over to the mirror. He glared at Adam when the scientist had the gall to walk beside him, poking and tapping the cybernetic arm.
"Come on, move it. You should be able to. I made sure to establish a connection and that your nervous system was communicating during surgery. It was sending signals to your arm." Adam poked it again, and he laughed when Leo prayed with all his will to flip the middle finger - and the arm promptly listened. He tried to take a swipe at the scientist, but the movement was severely delayed and Adam stepped out of the way, his snake-like smile slithering to life. "Now now, play nice. I'm the only one who can finish your upgrades and tune you up, you know; which I will, after I present you to the Director - without your voice of course. I refuse to allow vulgarity ruin the future of my division. As soon as it's revived, you'll be free of me and you'll get to begin your new assignment!" Adam clapped and sniggered giddily. "Exciting, isn't it?"
Leo ignored the chatty scientist as much as he could as he clawed his way to the mirror, and his cybernetic arm reacted without thought. The glass shattered and pieces flew, a couple cutting his cheek - not like it made a difference with how marked up he was. His vanity was one of his few precious treasures, and now he didn't have that. He didn't have pride. He didn't have his humanity left - but suppose that was the price he paid when he decided to dance with the devil and sell his soul for what he was going to do before he died.
Tears couldn't even come. He couldn't cry, he couldn't talk, and he could barely move. He was trapped in a body that was no longer his, turned into what may as well have constituted 'glorified robot'. He was just as fake as those fucking synths. This was Piper's fault though, still, wasn't it? If he never followed her, if he never listened to Luki, he wouldn't be here. He should have never agreed to the Sarge's fucking deal. He should have just stayed as a Gunner.
This was their fault. They ruined his life. The Institute ruined his life - and this fucking skinny asshole was having the time of his life doing it, too.
One after another thought, anger brewed and broiled. He was left staring at the shattered remains of his life, of what he once was. Blue eyes glowed, and his skin crawled when Adam came up behind him, cocky fingers running up Leo's shoulder as if he was a fucking child. But when he willed it, something stopped him from striking out at the scientist; even with his own flesh-and-meat arm.
"You're perfect. Magnificent," Adam whispered, the back of his hand lovingly - disgustingly - stroking Leo's scarred cheek. "A real masterpiece; I've outdone myself, this time. As soon as you learn to control your new augmentations, you'll be unstoppable. Everyone will tremble upon your approach and you will be the pinnacle of human evolution, to inspire what mankind can aspire to be and achieve." He gently nudged Leo away from the broken mirror and stood in front of him, his repulsive gaze glossing over with pride.
All Leo wanted to do was scream.
And he prayed for someone to kill him again.
x - x - x
Gat was muscled along by two coursers - not that he put up a fight. He was dumped in a chair and one of them mentioned something about getting him cleared, but for what, he didn't know. He hunched over and buried his head in his hands, struggling to just hold on and not break down. He couldn't afford to. The real Piper was somewhere in this building, but he'd been slacking off.
How the hell was he even supposed to find her?
"Garrett? What are you doing here?"
His gaze snapped up to the voice, and he blinked, confused to see Cowboy. His eyes were dead. The red flags soared straight up, but Gat bit his tongue before he went off shouting 'synth'. When was he going to see that searing wildfire burning and roaring - the one Piper always had? Now every familiar face he came across had that cold sickly flame, like when he first saw with the backstabbing bitch from the market.
"...Garrett?"
Gat's head lolled back in his hands and he sighed irritably. "Piper's the only one allowed to call me that. Stick to Gat." A beat. He forced manners through his teeth. "...Please."
"Alright." John knelt, and Gat did everything he could to avoid those damn dead eyes. "So what are you doing here?"
"Who the fuck knows what these eggheads ever want?" Gat muttered, fingers digging into his scalp. He squeezed his head in an effort to somehow circumvent the coming pressure that built behind his eyes. "They're fucking with my brain, and they're doing a good job of it. Seen two Pipers now. Only a matter of time 'fore the second one paints the floor."
"What? What are you talking about?"
"...Forget it." Gat sighed again, his eyes slipping shut as tightly as possible when they began to burn the moment his voice cracked and faded out of existence. "I want to be alone."
"Gat, I need to know-"
"Please," he whispered pitifully, and his next words echoed a memory that hit far too close to home. "Manners, and shite..."
Silence fell between them, but he didn't care. He couldn't, but he appreciated it when John eventually excused himself and left Gat alone, hanging by a thread. All he could see behind his eyes was Piper, and all he could smell was her hair, and her musk, and how close he was saying that she still really needed that bath. All he could taste was her hair against his mouth, and all he could feel was her warm body in his arms. It all felt so bloody real, and it was agonizing to know none of it was.
Disgust welled up in him when there was that faint itch upon his lips that he couldn't get rid of. He nearly fell into temptation, nearly cheated on the real Piper for the desperate need to just settle for whatever came his way, regardless of whether or not it was real. He missed her so, so much. All he wanted was her to comfort him again - even when it should have clearly been the other way around, like it always has been; and he knew his desperation was playing tricks on him, like seeing a mirage at a desert.
...Or was what he saw in Piper's eyes real?