After the first injection, the memories of what happened were a bit of a blur to Anya. She imagined that it was something that they used to sedate her, so that she wouldn't be able to move while they gave the rest of the batch.
She saw the needles come and go in flashes, felt the sensation of fire burning through her veins, and after what felt like hours, she woke up groggily, with her head hanging over her bed. The room spinned around her as she tried to sit up, but as soon as she started moving, Anya's stomach lurched and she vomited over the side of the bed.
The heaved until everything that was in her stomach had been emptied all over the tiled floor, and Anya wiped the side of her mouth with disgust. She spat a few times on the floor trying to get the sour taste out of her mouth.
Something stirred in the corner of the room, and Anya bolted upright, only to groan and hold her head in her hands a moment later from the sudden movement.
"You may be experiencing some nausea right now," said the doctor with the owl eyes and shock of white hair. "Not to worry, that is an expected side effect. We'll have that cleaned up in no time." He cocked his head at her and gripped his clipboard and pen tighter. "Can you describe to me in your own words how you are feeling after the test serums?"
Anya groaned and fell backwards once again. She turned away from the owl doctor and buried her face in the pillow in an attempt to drown out the light around her. Did they never turn it off?
She heard the distance scritching as Dr Atkinson wrote something down. She groaned again. Couldn't he just leave her alone? How long was he going to sit there and watch her for?
She really needed to go to the toilet. And eat something. But the thought of asking any of these monsters for something made her want to puke (even though she had nothing left to throw up). She really did feel dizzy. Stars spun in her head, but she didn't try to fight it.
Then Anya realised something else: they had taken the chains off her.
She clenched her fists experimentally, out of view of the doctor. Her wrists felt strained, and clearly there were some scratches where they chafed against the chains. Possibly when she was unconscious. Anya groaned loudly once more.
She lay like that for a while, resisting the urge to drift off to sleep. Maybe if she let them think that she was asleep… she could…
What?
She could bust herself out of here, with no knowledge of where she was, or how she could get home? Could she leave the facility without the alarms, without any of the staff members realising that she had escaped?
A small memory resurfaced in her mind, and Anya realised. She had forgotten.
She had escaped from here before.
If she had done it before, then she could do it again.
Above her, the CCTV camera blinked red relentlessly. Even if she did attack Dr Atkinson, and then left the room, they would know instantly. They would see everything, come and catch her, and sedate her again. Maybe even refasten the chains on.
Think, Anya scolded herself. What would Twilight do?
From reading Twilight's mind constantly, she knew how much he valued information. That's what he had Franky for. He needed intel to be able to carry out any mission successfully.
Anya desperately wanted to go back to her family, to go back home. But she also wanted to stay there, and never be found by this organisation again. She had escaped once before, but look at what happend! They found her. They abducted her in broad daylight outside of her school, because they had gathered enough information that they knew they could get away with it.
She couldn't let them get her again. If she was to escape from here this time, it would have to be permanently.
"Let's get you moving," Dr Atkinson decided suddenly. "Maybe it will help your nausea to move around for a bit."
Anya didn't fight. She let him take her arm and help her up - mainly to stop her from vomiting again. She did still feel dangerously sick and didn't really fancy throwing up her guts again.
Dr Atkinson helped her to navigate her way around the puddle of vomit that was on the tiled floor, and used a keycard to unlock the door and let her out into the corridors. Anya hated herself for it, but she needed to cling on to Dr Atkinson to be able to keep herself upright. She still couldn't remember the last time that she had eaten.
As if on cue, her stomach gurgled loudly, almost reverberating around the white walls.
Dr Atkinson stopped, and Anya had no choice but to stop with him.
"This way," he said, and changed directions, and Anya felt herself being pulled along. "We can head into the kitchens, get you something to eat."
Anya was desperate for answers, she was so full of questions, but she felt too resentful to ask any of them. How long had she been here? Where were the other children, if there were even any left? How many staff were there, and where even where they were anyway?
She knew without a doubt that even if she did try to ask those things, that she wouldn't get the answers she wanted. She would just have to get the intel herself, like she always did.
Even in her half-starved and nauseous state, Anya put every effort into trying to keep track of where they were going. How many steps until the next left turn, and the right, and which doors they eventually passed through, and how many of them needed electronic keycards to get past them.
Anya hung her head low as they walked, trying to pretend that she wasn't interested in their surroundings, but if she kept her hair over her face then her eyes wouldn't show on the various CCTV cameras. She was sure of it.
It wasn't until they arrived at the kitchen that Anya cursed herself for missing one crucial detail - how many cameras were there, and where were they stationed?
No matter, she would pay attention on the way back, and make sure to keep count this time.
The texture of the tiling changed underneath her feet and Anya realised that she had stepped foot in the kitchen. She lifted her nose to sniff the air.
It smelled of… stew?
Her stomach gurgled again as Dr Atkinson called out. "Luke, are you in here? We've got a hungry one."
There was a clattering from the far side of the kitchen, and a man with a shaved face and a hairnet over blond hair poked his head out from another door. "Dinner's been served! I ain't got time for whining kids when I'm nearly off the clock!"
Anya jolted at the sight of the man named Luke. He looked as though he might have been in his late-thirties, or early-forties, but Anya couldn't shake the feeling that she had seen him before.
She had barely remembered anything else about her time in the lab, so why did his face look so familiar…?
"Won't you make an exception?" said Dr Atkinson smoothly. "Young Subject 007 hasn't eaten in a long time. I'm sure she would appreciate what you have to offer."
At the mention of Anya's former name, Luke stiffened. "007?" he said weakly, but quickly shook himself out of his surprise. "The kids are still in the mess hall, she can go in there. There's probably something left."
Anya swallowed dryly. So there were other children here, after all?
Dr Atkinson gently pushed her to the side, and she followed, knowing that the promise of food was near. And she was hungry, hungrier than she had been in a very long time.
Before she quite realised it, Dr Atkinson had pushed open the double doors, and led her into what was known as the mess hall.
She heard the boisterous laughter and conversation of children, along with the scrape of cutlery and the general murmur of a dinner time atmosphere.
God, it reminded her of Eden College.
Tears sprung to her eyes as she remembered her school, her friends. Were they even worried about her? Did anyone notice that she went missing?
"Have something to eat," said Dr Atkinson gently. "Gain your energy."
She couldn't hear his thoughts at that moment in time, but she hoped they were good ones, and not something like 'gain your energy so we can experiment on you properly'.
Anya tentatively stepped forward, and instantly she heard silence overcome the room. Around her, children stilled as they eyed this newcomer with complete and utter bewilderment. Anya felt like she was the new kid at school all over again, suddenly the centre of attention and the object of scrutiny all at the same time.
From a quick head count, it looked like there were about twenty-odd children, all wearing the same white pyjamas as her, and all of them were younger than her by quite a wide margin. Anya guessed that the oldest one in the crowd must have been about ten years old, but it was hard not to notice that there were some much younger children in the group.
Anya's gaze snagged on a tiny figure, a miniature girl with eyes as wide as saucers. She couldn't have been more than three years old.
Emotion caught in Anya's throat. She was three years old when she escaped. When she found freedom.
Did the Director's cruelty never end? All this time, Anya had been living a life free from pain and experimentation, and yet the experiments never stopped? They recruited more and more children, and replaced Anya by an even greater degree than she had ever imagined, and more than she had ever feared.
"Everyone," called Dr Atkinson. "This is Subject 007. She hasn't eaten in a while so be gentle with her. No crowding!"
But it seemed that Dr Atkinson's words had very little effect, as suddenly there was a scrape of chairs and a cluster of voices ran to her.
"007!" Said some of the children, very excitedly. "Welcome back!"
"You're home!"
"Yay, you've been rescued! We were so worried about you!"
Anya eyed the crowd with a mix of fear, confusion, and utter revulsion. What in the fresh hell was happening? Disgust swirled in her stomach, and she thought that she might actually be sick again.
The children clawed at her pyjamas and grabbed at her clothes, far too excited to care about such trivial things as personal space.
"S-stop," Anya said with a weak voice. "P-please, s-stop it…"
The children clamoured for her still. "No fair! I want to be the first to hug 007!"
"No she's mine! I called dibs!"
"Dibs aren't real! Stop trying to make dibs happen!"
"Let me go! I wanna see her!"
"Hey, are you going to live here with us forever now?"
And that, more than anything, was enough to tip Anya over the edge.
"Get away from me!" she screeched, and pulled on the children's tiny hands, pulling them away from her clothes. "Get away!"
At once, their huge eyes rounded at her with uncertainty, and then when the first child started crying, more started to join in, until there was so much noise that Anya wanted to put her hands over her ears just to make it all stop.
"I did say to be gentle with her," sighed Dr Atkinson, and he rubbed at the back of his neck in frustration. "Just leave them, 007. You can all catch up later."
Then, he shoved a bowl of food at Anya, and she grabbed it before it could fall to the floor. It was hot in her hands. She carefully made her way around the screaming, crying, throng of children, and sat herself at the table furthest from the tiny crowd.
She picked at the stew slowly, and tried to avoid eye contact with the other children. She already felt so guilty for her outburst, but she didn't have the energy to go and apologise to them all. Part of Anya hoped that she wouldn't be here long enough for any of them to even remember her.
If only she remembered how she had escaped before…
Distantly, Anya was conscious of the other children being ushered out of the room, so that she could be left alone in the mess hall. There were some protests from the other children, especially the younger ones who didn't understand that she needed some time to adjust to the new environment, that she wasn't in the mood to play nice with other children.
The other Subjects.
Her fork clattered to the empty bowl as tears filled her eyes, but she didn't let them fall.
A quick glance at the security cameras, and her resolve only hardened. She wouldn't let them see her cry. Never again.
Hastily, Anya wiped her eyes on her sleeves and set her bowl down at the porter's window, and started to walk towards the exit. Dr Atkinson had said that he would wait behind the doors to escort her back to her room when she was finished.
Just as Anya's hand had brushed the doorknob, another clatter of pans sounded to her side, and Anya spun around.
The kitchen was partially connected to the mess hall, just like a school canteen, and a figure hunched over the pile of pans that had just been dropped.
The cook… Was his name Luke?
Anya walked away from the exit, and headed to the kitchen portal. "Are you… alright?" she called hesitantly.
Luke's head popped up again from the floor, and he frowned at her. "Fine," he grumbled and stood up quickly.
Anya eyed the pile of things that had fallen on the floor. "Do you need some help?"
Luke started to shake his head, but his eyes widened in fear at something behind Anya. "I wasn't - I wasn't talking to her! I swear!"
"Come with me, 007," Dr Atkinson's voice floated from behind her, and Anya's blood ran cold. She hadn't even heard the door opening, how did he get behind her so fast without even making a noise?
Anya nodded mutely and followed Dr Atkinson out of the hall, but before the door closed again, Anya glanced back quickly one more time.
Luke stood with both fists clenched, and his head bowed.
But she couldn't miss the look of pain etched into his face.
As if sensing her gaze on him, Luke's head snapped up, and their eyes met with quiet desperation.
The door closed, separating them.
Anya didn't see the Director again for the next two days, which, as far as she was concerned, was a huge relief. Even the other staff seemed to relax when the Director wasn't physically in the room with them.
Thankfully, she didn't throw up again either. Whatever they had given her on that first day was stronger than anyone had expected, and they appeared to have adjusted the dosage for Anya in the days since her arrival.
Still, she didn't speak. She didn't want to give anyone a clue of what was really going on in her head - or just how many cogs were turning in the formation of her escape plan.
When Anya left her room, it was only to go to the mess hall for food, or to be escorted to the bathroom when she needed to. So far, she didn't have much chance to get an internal map of the place, although she did manage to make some mental notes on the distribution of CCTV cameras, and how long it took to get between each place.
She wanted to speak to Luke, alone, and ask why he wasn't allowed to speak to her, but more importantly, why that caused him pain. Anya watched everything carefully, and noticed that Luke had very limited interaction with the other children, beyond the occasional greeting. At first, she thought that he was being standoffish and cold - until she saw the sly glares of some of the other staff members.
All directed at Luke.
In her dreams, her Papa came to rescue her, and then she returned to Eden happy and could finally be with her friends again. But when Anya woke up, and was reminded of her new prison, the hope inside her dwindled.
Nobody knew what she was, so she couldn't expect them to find her.
She was on her own.
Her Papa had never known, never even suspected, and even with her Mama's formidable training, Anya knew that brute force alone wouldn't be enough in this situation. She had to be smart, analytical, fierce, and strong. She had to be better than Twilight, and more vicious than the Thorn Princess. She had to be both, she had to be more.
Anya remembered a long-distant dream of hers, when she was a child, and played make-believe missions with Bond and Franky, and Anya knew exactly what she had to be.
She had to be Starlight Anya.