The wall of CCTV screens glowed a faint blue, the only light in the otherwise dark Control Room. Children of all ages, dressed in loose white clothing, showed on each screen; some rocking back and forth in some effort to soothe themselves, while others sat completely still, unblinking, staring at the walls or the ceiling. One child had repurposed bundles of their own bedding into a doll-like figurine, and shook it in their own hands, as if the doll itself was being electrocuted. Reenactment of their own treatment.
In the centre of all the screens, a girl with pink hair floated in a tank filled with water. A direct link to the Experimentation Room.
An elegant hand reached out, and lightly pressed a small, round button on the control panel. Blue light refracted from the diamond bracelet around the holder's wrist, producing a rippling effect on the nearby surfaces.
No emotions crossed the Director's face as she watched Test Subject 007 writhe in the tank from the voltage passing through. Only the subsequent graphs and brain scans caught her attention, and her gaze lingered on the illuminated areas long enough for her to add notes to her records, muttering aloud as she went.
The electrodes attached to Subject 007's scalp were highly sensitive, and were easily able to pick up the neural oscillations down to a fraction of a second, which meant that the graphs that the Director looked over were as accurate as they could possibly be.
Although Subject 007's state of relaxation was induced by sedatives, her brain waves showed that the substances used to subdue her made no difference to her telepathic brain activity. Given the prominent depth of the theta waves, and the relatively slow oscillations, it was obvious that Subject 007 was suitably knocked out, and yet, it appeared that her unconscious still tried to operate on the level required for telepathy.
Fascinating.
It was proof of the lengths that a brain would go to, to ensure its own survival. Even while unconscious, a telepath's brain could activate by itself, and keep searching for any sign of danger. It was just like breathing: automatic in a state of homeostasis, and yet it could still be consciously altered at will.
Not only that, but theta waves were usually more prominent in childhood, and yet Subject 007 had managed to retain the depth of her own theta waves well into middle adolescence, even to the extent that she could easily trigger the wavelength required for telepathy - psi waves. Just as the Director has hypothesised, and planned for.
It was the entire reason why the rooms of the lab were filled with children. The Director had no particular inclination towards children, but their brains were so much more adaptable than adults, so much more plastic , and now that another of the Director's experiments was close to adulthood, that opened up a whole new world of possibilities. On the cusp of ripening, Subject 007 had so many new limits yet to test and explore, to surpass and eclipse.
To the Director, it did not matter that Subject 007 had spent time away from the lab. Even at three years old, Subject 007 showed potential far beyond the level of her peers, and at a developmental age of fifteen, her psi waves were even more potent, almost matured. Reservoirs of untapped energy swirled within her, trapped unless the Director gave her the kindness of releasing it.
"Move to Phase Three ahead of schedule. Prepare to seal the capsule."
An assistant appeared at the Director's side, ready and waiting with their clipboard that detailed the experimentation schedule for the day. The Director rarely took notice of her assistants, only memorising a few of their details so that she could tell the difference between them. This one was one of the less experienced assistants, a young man with glasses and short black hair, and he dutifully passed the instructions through the intercom, which could be heard by all those in the Experimentation Room.
The Director tapped her pen against her own notebook, thinking ahead to the next part of the schedule. There was so much to do, but 007 was no ordinary Subject. As a child, she had already received the basic operations that enlarged her amygdala , heightening her attunement to threatening and negative thoughts, and her Wernicke's area , enhancing her ability to decode language and understand verbal thoughts. The Director had even designed specialised serums to stimulate neurogenesis in the corpus callosum , the core structure that connected the two hemispheres of the brain, and allowed Subject 007 to process neural signals at a speed and volume nearly unheard of. And, she was particularly proud of -
CRASH!
Clouds of dust and debris covered the central screen, interrupting the Director's reminiscing, and most importantly, blocking her visual of Subject 007. She leaned forward and tried to peer into the obfuscation, trying to understand the picture before her. (Was there an explosion? Equipment malfunction? An attack?)
"Director, I think - it looks like there's a problem…" The assistant observed with a trembling voice, but the Director did not respond.
Three figures emerged from the dust cloud, all gathered on the grated metal platform suspended above the open capsule that Subject 007 floated in. If she squinted her eyes, the Director still couldn't make out the features of the three shadows moving in the cloud, but it wasn't long before the dust dissipated, and what was left of the scene had her gritting her teeth in molten anger.
Dr Atkinson, the traitor, appeared to be leading one of the figures towards Subject 007 - clearly, he wasn't as loyal to her as she had originally thought. But it wasn't just Dr Atkinson's betrayal that lit the flame of fury inside her.
Subject 007's impostor "mother" emerged from the dust wielding a fan of golden stiletto knives, graceful and deadly, and the sight of her made the Director want to burn the world down.
The Director bared her teeth in an animalistic growl.
Yor Forger.
With the intel that she had on the impostor mother, the Director should have known how fiercely the woman would retaliate, but she had relied too much on the location of the lab remaining a secret. She wouldn't make that mistake again.
"Director, isn't that…"
He left his sentence unfinished, but his hesitation only made the truth even more potent.
Finally, the third reason for the Director's rage: Damian Desmond. The precious second son of the Investor.
In a previous life, the Director would have chewed on her nails as she thought of her next steps, but she had trained herself out of that common habit a long time ago. Reflexively, she balled her hands into trembling fists. If the Investor knew that his son had returned to the lab, there was no telling what he would do, the wrath that she would face. At the same time, she could not allow the little Desmond to succeed, and she could not afford to expose herself in the process, but she was quickly running out of time. If she took too long to decide her next move, everything she had worked for would be lost, and she would have to start from scratch to rebuild her father's - no, her life's work.
What were those idiot security guards doing? They should have noticed the impostor mother, they should have apprehended the traitor, and they should have at least recognised the little problem that was Damian fucking Desmond and taken him into custody for her to deal with - but no! Apparently the intruders had completely infiltrated under their noses, right under the security guards' watch, and was it too much to ask for a little loyalty these days?
Before the Director could even announce her next command, something completely unexpected happened:
The little Desmond dived into the tank of water.
And, at the same time, the impostor mother had brought the entirety of the staff to their knees with fear.
The countdown to the Director's impending failure ticked ever closer, but she could not let it happen. There was no way. She had to make a move now, no matter the cost.
No matter the sacrifice.
"Get out of my way," the Director seethed and pushed the assistant out of the way, not caring that he fell to the floor. She slammed her hand on the intercom button and screeched into the microphone: "Seal the capsule now! "
The young man baulked. "But - Damian Desmond is still inside! The Investor will be - he'll be furious -"
"I understand the risks," the Director said in a low voice, and watched with victorious satisfaction when the lid closed over the water tank, trapping both Damian and Subject 007 inside it. "Protecting the experiment is our first priority."
How was it that everything was slipping so far out of her grasp in such a short space of time? Real alarm started to build in the Director, and she barked out another order to her increasingly panicked assistant: "Get the guards down there! We can't let them escape!"
But any victory was short-lived, because the Yor Forger shattered the water tank with a single punch, and the Director watched with quiet horror and venomous fury as her entire lab was flooded in a matter of minutes.
"How did she do that?" The assistant gawked. "It's reinforced! That water tank should be strong enough to withstand the impact force of a car crash!"
The Director gritted her teeth. Sparks flew from the now-ruined equipment, and even the scientists caught in the resulting wave had not emerged unscathed. Pools of blood stained the water from where her staff took their impacts, very likely breaking bones in the process.
She knew that Yor Forger had inhuman strength, but this was unlike anything she could have ever predicted. Yor Forger may have been an impostor, but she was also near-unstoppable. Not even the Subjects that had completed their soldier's training had even a fraction of her power and strength, that much was obvious from just observation alone.
The Director swore aloud. Her equipment, her lab, her research - it was ruined. Unrecoverable. And it was all that woman's fault.
Fine, then. If the security team couldn't take down Yor Forger, then she would just have to do it herself . Sparks flew from her eyes in rage and she raced towards the exit, powerful resolve fuelling every movement, and she slammed the door open and -
A man stood in her way. Blond hair damp with sweat, and a chef's apron tied askew, as though the ties had slipped as he ran. He gripped the door frame, clearly blocking her path.
He should have moved out of her way, but the Director tightened her grip on the door handle when he met her eyes, heavy with an air of proud defiance.
"Director," he panted, and met the eyes of the trembling assistant behind her. "Samuel. It's finally happening."
The Director sensed the assistant - Samuel - moving behind her, taking tentative steps backwards from the scene happening in front of him.
"You're with them," he gasped. "You're the one that breached the lab!"
Luke shook his head laughing. "I didn't do anything. Just making the most of a new opportunity."
The Director had heard enough.
"Get out of my way, Luke," the Director snarled, but Luke did not move, and his eyes did not stray from hers. Fire and hatred burned in his eyes, but he was only one man, and the Director was a force to be reckoned with.
"Get back to your new job," she hissed. "Or have you forgotten about where your loyalties lie?"
"What loyalty?" he growled. "My loyalty to you died when you stole children for your insane experiments!"
"How dare you! If you hadn't let the Subjects escape the first time, I wouldn't have had to teach you a lesson! You know the consequences of your disobedience. I'll take away everything you love. You'll never work with machines again. You'll never -"
A serpentine smile wove its way through her face, and Luke flinched.
"You'll never see that child again."
But to her surprise, Luke didn't react with the fear that she wanted, and he let out a barking laugh.
"What are you going to do?" he chuckled, returning the Director's victorious stare with one of his own. "Sedate him? Isolate him? You sent him on an assignment in Berlint." He smiled icily. "He's far away from here."
"I'll kill you for your insolence," she snarled again, but this time, a touch of uncertainty had made her falter. " Do you hear me? I'll kill you!"
Luke stepped forward into the Control Room, invading her space, and the Director took one reflexive step back.
"There's nothing you can do to hurt me anymore."
He raised his fist, and the screen's blue light reflected on a steel surface in his hand. Something that she had failed to notice earlier.
"Your time is up, Director."
Slash!
Luke brought down the knife with all of his strength, but the Director jumped back, landing in a fighting stance.
He may not be a trained fighter, but he wielded a weapon and burned with rage, and the Director knew more than most the power that could be drawn from one's own anger. It filled her, fuelled her, and the Director reached for her own reserves of power, diving within herself to find the familiar spark that never failed to light the flame.
The Director lunged forward, closing the gap between herself and Luke before he could even blink, and twisted the hand holding the knife.
Luke cried out from the pain of her grip, but he didn't let go, only squeezing the handle of the knife harder so that she couldn't take it from him, even by force - but all the Director had to do was twist even further, apply more pressure, and she brought Luke to his knees.
"You don't even know what you're up against," she snarled, and pulled at the knife in his hands, smiling darkly. Luke was a fool to think that he could bring an object like a knife into her domain, and expect it not to be used against him.
It wouldn't take long to defeat him and to finish the fight, all she had to do was grab it -
All she had to do was -
Luke gripped the knife as though it was melded to his own hand, completely resisting her attempts to disarm him. Sweat beaded on his forehead with the effort of fighting with her, as her own grip strength competed with his.
"You can't win against me," he grunted, and despite the tug-of-war between them, he managed to lean in closer and whisper into her ear: "I know your secret."
The Director made the mistake of letting the surprise show on her face. "That's not possible-"
In a single move, Luke twisted her wrists downwards, knocking her off balance just enough for him to sweep his leg into the side of her knees, and the Director fell. She reached out to the control panel to steady herself, but it was too late, and the edge of her temple hit the sides of the panel, resulting in a loud crack .
Something dripped into her vision and the Director raised her hand to her forehead, astounded at the red that came away on her fingers, almost disbelieving that it had happened. As if she didn't know that she could even bleed.
"Samuel!" she called out, and pulled herself to her feet. "What are you doing just standing there? Stop him!"
But Samuel had already fled, too frightened to fight, too scared to stay, and she was alone.
A series of beeps and clicks sounded behind her, and it dawned on the Director that she was not Luke's target at all.
He was going after the control panel. She didn't even notice that Luke had gone to it, pressing buttons and pulling levers like he was the one in charge of them all, like he had known them all his life - because of course he did. Hadn't he built the lab with her, all those years ago?
After he let the Subjects escape, her first instinct was to execute him. Instead, she tried to break him in a thousand different ways, to force him to submit to her. Fourteen years should have been more than enough to break his will entirely.
Blood streamed down her face, and the Director knew then that she should have killed him when she had the chance.
Blue shone in her periphery and the Director spotted the knife, now embedded in the ruined electrics of the control panel. She closed her palm around the handle, and pulled it from the panel, sparks flying in its wake, and electricity surged through the wiring, causing the lights of the entire lab to flicker menacingly. Alternating blue and red lights flashed across her face and the Control Room, the sources oscillating between the alarms and the CCTV screens.
One of those screens showed Luke running through the lab's maze of corridors, making his escape from the Control Room as fast as he could. He had destroyed everything, but he didn't stay to win a fight with the Director. Taking her down was not his goal, but given the chaos on the screens, he might as well have.
Security disabled. Alarms dysfunctional. Even the hatches in the children's corridor were released, and images of children cautiously stepping over the threshold to their cells filled the screen, along with the pictures of Yor Forger and Dr Atkinson killing her security staff, and Damian Desmond escaping with Subject 007. And on another set of screens, a fleet of black cars, and several helicopters passed by, closing in on the lab with every second.
The Director tightened her hand on the knife, before her grip went slack, and steel clanged to the floor. Sirens screamed all around her, and just as the glass of the water tank had cracked and shattered apart, so too did the Director's sense of reality, as a new realisation overcame her.
She had lost.
For the next few minutes, only the sound of her racing footsteps echoed in the silent corridor, until she reached the end, and she quickly forced the ceiling hatch open with the strength of her will. From the Control Room it was a direct link to the outside of the lab, installed as an emergency evacuation route in the event of the lab coming under attack - the Investor's idea, not that she would ever actually admit to him that he was right.
Pushing it open, the Director climbed up and through, all the while keeping an eye out for any signs of intruders around her. The opening of the hatch led into the very edge of the forest that surrounded the lab, and once she remembered to scuff more moss and dead leaves to cover the edges of the opening, it looked as though it was never there. A seamless transition to mark her escape into the forest.
The facility's alarms screeched behind her, and the distant hum of helicopters grew ever closer, but the Director did not look back, or even slow her pace for a second. She had already cut her losses the moment that she realised she couldn't win the fight.
This time, anyway.
But the Forger woman and her accomplices had made an extremely grave error. One that was so unforgivable that pure and devastating revenge was the only reasonable response. Revenge so catastrophic, so earth-shattering, that Subject 007 would have no choice but to submit to the Director herself.
Soon, the Director arrived at a small paddock, and she easily jumped the fence, landing on the other side with barely a whisper, long lab coat sweeping behind her.
There he was, just where the Director had left him. A stallion with a beautiful colouration, oak brown with a cream tail and a spot. He raised his head as he heard her approach, and allowed her to lead him.
As the Director rode through the forest, and the surrounding countryside, she let her determination drive her. Twilight masked the final hours of her escape as the sun brushed the edge of the horizon, but the Director did not let her guard down. While the helicopters had not followed her, and so likely did not see her, the Director could not rest until she had returned to the security-clad safety of her own home.
Lights in the distance, and the Director urged the horse onwards. Almost there. She only slowed to a canter when the mansion finally loomed in sight, and the Director led them both to the marble steps of the front door, illuminated by the light streaming through the large windows. She dismounted in one fluid movement, and once she was on the ground, she smoothed down her frazzled hair and her windblown clothes, and plastered on an elegant smile.
And walked straight through the front door.
As she expected, the butler appeared instantly, summoned by the unmistakable groan of the gigantic wooden door. It was less like a door and more like the barrier to a fortress, and its haunting sound echoed eerily through the wide, marble corridors.
"We weren't expecting you until later this evening, ma'am."
Once again, the Director took a moment to fix her face before she spoke.
"I'm afraid something came up at work."
Ever the professional, the butler's facial expression did not change, even when his gaze travelled to the edges of her face, and the Director raised her hand to her cheek.
Ah. Dried blood. She had forgotten about that. The housekeeping staff would no doubt worry about her.
"Oh, this?" she exhaled a calculated chuckle. "Just a scratch from a branch while riding. Nothing to be concerned about."
"I see."
Cautious of her butler's scrutinising gaze, the Director waved him away and made her way over to the stately staircase that dominated the foyer of the mansion.
"Please summon the stable attendant and have them take care of Damascus," she indicated to the stallion waiting patiently outside, not that she needed to point him out. "I will take dinner in my room."
After another moment of thought: "And I would like to not be disturbed for the remainder of the evening."
The butler nodded, his expression carefully blank. "As you wish, ma'am."
The click of a lock sliding shut. And then, silence. Cotton-filled silence. The kind of silence that suffocated, making anyone all-too-aware of the sound of their heartbeat in their throat. A silence that demanded to be broken.
The Director let out a long sigh, and when she started to run out of air, she bared her teeth and directed the force of her breath into a startling and low growl, and when that did nothing to rid the searing anger inside of her, she lowered her jaw and screamed.
Sound exploded from her. Her voice shattered the air, warped the gravity around her, splintered time itself, and she poured all of her rage into a hair-raising screech.
Crack!
As she heaved the air back into her lungs, panting for breath, the Director stared directly into the mirror on her dressing table.
Though barely used, the housekeepers dutifully made sure that there was never a speck of dust anywhere in the mansion, and so the reflection that glared back at the Director gleamed - or it would have, if not for the web of cracks that had suddenly appeared, splintering the Director's face into a hundred fragments.
She ran her finger over the broken glass in the centre, fascinated to see the blood appear on her fingertip when she pulled away.
The Director thought that she was accustomed to the sight of blood, but seeing her own weakness welling up on her own flesh made her want to paint the world in it. Smear red over everything in sight, until the landscape was just as desolate as their hearts would be.
They deserved it. They all did. Once she had planned her next move. It could take months. A year, maybe more, but she would win. The vision of her hopeless world would come to fruition, and no-one would be able to stop her.
She would get her lab back. Replace the staff. She would get Subject 007 back, that little witch. She would make Yor Forger pay.
And little Damian Desmond…
Well.
She could deal with him, too.
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Writing this chapter was so difficult, because the Director does NOT want me in her head. I can feel her resisting me at every step of the way. She is very suspicious of me, even in this chapter she thinks I have revealed too much.
Next chapter: Wednesday 14th February 2024.
I haven't thought of the title yet but the Damianya cinema date (take 2) is in this one, so you can look forward to it 😁
Now to return to the question I asked you all last time, feel free to skip:
Thank you all so much for your careful and considered responses, and for your honest input. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it, especially since I've never asked anything like this before!
My main takeaway from your feedback is that there could actually be more fluff scenes, as we are heavy into the angst right now and I think we can agree we all need a bit of damianya fluff. So, I have gone through my plan and purposefully added in more fluff scenes that weren't there before, especially because I realised how few and far between they become after a certain point!
As for sexual intimacy, I think my initial instinct here was the right one in not including this in the story.
Right now they have actually only been together for like 2-3 months in the story (really 😂) so they still have some time to grow into their relationship, so when Damian and Anya tell me that they are ready (whenever that may be!), then I will provide this separately and link it in my profile for people to read if they want to.
(Also when I say intimacy I do in fact mean intimacy, rather than smut. It's about showing a different aspect of their love and how it brings them closer, so you know I would go heavy on the emotions lol. But still to be safe I would only write it for AO3)
I hope that makes sense, and thank you all again 💖