There was a memory I remembered—one from so long ago I can't quite recall the exact years. I tell myself that it's not because of what They've done to me, but rather so my own fault of bad memory. Despite my..."adjustments".
From what recollection I still have, I'm certain I was still but a child yet to have witnessed the honesty of the world's torment. There I sat, my legs dangling off the nursing bench in the schooling facility, and I swung them back and forth like the child that I was. The side of my head troubled me with sharp, agonizing throbs that were just barely tamed into tolerance by the icepack that I held firmly against the swelling, trying not to sob. I must've gotten hit during what I can remember was softball practice, but I could remember sobbing more so because I was put out of the game afterwards rather than the pain. I was a tough girl for a kid. At least I liked to think so. But even more so than that, strangely, I remember the icepack the most.
Despite the more jagged pieces of ice at the bottom, the cold was welcomed in full. It was comfortable. Like the flip side of sliding into a frigid bed with one of those warm electric comforter blankets, in a way. Though, with the pain ever so present and the relief of the cool temporary, after a while those sharp throbs became a focus. Even as I would lay my head down to sleep. It's funny, how such small details seem to have the unrenowned ability to hold a place of irony in your life. How those small details in such memories have a tendency to follow you.
I was semi-conscious, clinging to life but wanting to be pulled away into the warm abyss by the embrace of death when they dug into my brain."
"Scalpel", I remembered hearing not much longer after experiencing what it felt like to have your skull cracked open so carefully. With such precision. I was awake. Yet I was unable to scream, or to beg while they cut. Removed. Replaced. Piece by piece, substituted with prototype "nanocells" and "nanowirings" that with hand in the small device that was crammed into my skull and placed into my brain, shielded by a metal that's cold against the inside of my head. The cold, it stretches down my jawline, just barely reaching the steel stitches in the corner of my lips. But still, it doesn't nullify the agony that is forever present when I'm awake and without the specially concocted medications that are, at times, merely a minor reliever.
"For the sake of The Order's development," they said, as they carefully pulled away skin to meddle with what was underneath. Weaponizing limbs, and in addition, myself, until I was barely a human being. Just parts of one, built to serve. Equipped to eliminate the things that go bump in the night with extreme prejudice and without question. Just one of many, and in the same breath, cursed to be one of the surviving few.
I glance over at the burly Russian to distract myself, who for the passed two years had been my partner agent after my rescue from the clutches of the Constables' R&D thanks to the him and the others. The man was huge, with his wide arms and combed beard, and his hair in the middle of growing back after its shaving a couple of months prior. His eyes, due to the fact that they had been replaced with those of a ghoul years back with the assistance of the R&D's advanced surgeries.
And for the third time in under forty minutes, I watch him wipe the invisible smudges from the barrel of his launcher as we waited for the rest of our group. We hadn't heard from them in the last half of a week, and with the recent news of Abel being crossed by The Order, I knew just how on edge he was. We all were. And with the addition of these "Keepers", as Constantine kept calling them, and a Droven, it was all horrid timing.
I opened my mouth to speak, but Makveli's gruff voice stopped me where I began.
"What take so long?!" He growled passed her beard, his brows furrowing together as his gaze scowled the floor. "Mexico what eh, 40 mile off? It been two days since call!"
I could only sigh, knowing better than to try to tell him to calm down. "I'm sure they can't be too far off now, Agen—"
"I no agent," Makveli interrupts me, his voice like the snarl of a bear. "No more, not for them."
I give him an annoyed glare, not liking to be interrupted but understanding his pinched nerve with The Order. "Alright, semantics," I retort. "Listen Mak, they'll be here. We just have ensure that if something does occur, we're in the right place to take action."
"What you, my senior now? I know that!" I watched the large man sit himself forward while placing his launcher aside. "We get rushed here, then they no here! We could be doing more productive!"
"Such as?" I ask, gesturing him to go on with a turn of my wrist, but knowing somewhere already what he was going to say.
"Beating the intel we need out of Bravado."
The man's answer threw me off, but I should have expected what came afterwards. "Oh...well we can't exactly do that just ye—"
"And making big booms," The Russian added with a grin, glad that I had taken what should have been obviously bait.
I roll my eye at him, but was glad to get at least that out of his system. "Anything else from The Lady?"
Makveli shook his head. "Not since we speak with others. Constantine's been strange as of late too. Like she hiding something. Much more secrecy, even for her."
"Because she knows the Constables," I remind him quickly in Constantine's defense. "She's been working at this nonstop, and though she's still more than just capable, age hasn't exactly complimented that." All I got in reply was a unsatisfied huff. I was going to ask him about how things were going with him trying to get that date with Kyung-ha, another one of my former senior agents who had dropped off the grid during my fresher years—And being that much like Makveli, she was a former Immortal, the woman was undoubtedly a force to be reckon with.
But I wouldn't get the chance to do so. We both looked at one another when the phone that rested between us began to buzz. It seemed to freeze us both in time until I gave him a nod.
Makveli picked up the phone, eying it for a second until he answered it. He was silent, but I could hear the murmured speech of the person on the other end.
The conversation was short, and to the point, and after Makveli closed the phone, seeing the look on his face, I asked, "What's the word?"
"They no far now," he says, much to my liking. I didn't know how much more waiting I could take. But his next statement had my eyebrow lifted. "But apparently, we go to the Florida place next."
"Florida?!" I sit up, and by all means I was astounded. "That's at least two days away, probably four and a half if we have to keep taking it slow—what the hell are we doing in Florida?"
Makveli shrugs at me. "Don't no yet. But I do not like it." He sighed. "Fucking Florida," I could hear him grumble again as he stood to start gathering their tools for the job.
I sigh, standing myself. "Better get packed up early then before the others get here so we can get on the road and move. Being here as long as we have has given me a bad feeling."
"Let's hope it nothing." Makveli moved me with a rough pat on the back. "You going to be okay?"
It takes me a moment to realize what he was referring to, but when I caught on, I tried to give as much of a reassuring nod as I could. "We'll get him before they do. It's the only choice we have."
From what recollection I still have, I'm certain I was still but a child yet to have witnessed the honesty of the world's torment. There I sat, my legs dangling off the nursing bench in the schooling facility, and I swung them back and forth like the child that I was. The side of my head troubled me with sharp, agonizing throbs that were just barely tamed into tolerance by the icepack that I held firmly against the swelling, trying not to sob. I must've gotten hit during what I can remember was softball practice, but I could remember sobbing more so because I was put out of the game afterwards rather than the pain. I was a tough girl for a kid. At least I liked to think so. But even more so than that, strangely, I remember the icepack the most.
Despite the more jagged pieces of ice at the bottom, the cold was welcomed in full. It was comfortable. Like the flip side of sliding into a frigid bed with one of those warm electric comforter blankets, in a way. Though, with the pain ever so present and the relief of the cool temporary, after a while those sharp throbs became a focus. Even as I would lay my head down to sleep. It's funny, how such small details seem to have the unrenowned ability to hold a place of irony in your life. How those small details in such memories have a tendency to follow you.
I was semi-conscious, clinging to life but wanting to be pulled away into the warm abyss by the embrace of death when they dug into my brain."
"Scalpel", I remembered hearing not much longer after experiencing what it felt like to have your skull cracked open so carefully. With such precision. I was awake. Yet I was unable to scream, or to beg while they cut. Removed. Replaced. Piece by piece, substituted with prototype "nanocells" and "nanowirings" that with hand in the small device that was crammed into my skull and placed into my brain, shielded by a metal that's cold against the inside of my head. The cold, it stretches down my jawline, just barely reaching the steel stitches in the corner of my lips. But still, it doesn't nullify the agony that is forever present when I'm awake and without the specially concocted medications that are, at times, merely a minor reliever.
"For the sake of The Order's development," they said, as they carefully pulled away skin to meddle with what was underneath. Weaponizing limbs, and in addition, myself, until I was barely a human being. Just parts of one, built to serve. Equipped to eliminate the things that go bump in the night with extreme prejudice and without question. Just one of many, and in the same breath, cursed to be one of the surviving few.
I glance over at the burly Russian to distract myself, who for the passed two years had been my partner agent after my rescue from the clutches of the Constables' R&D thanks to the him and the others. The man was huge, with his wide arms and combed beard, and his hair in the middle of growing back after its shaving a couple of months prior. His eyes, due to the fact that they had been replaced with those of a ghoul years back with the assistance of the R&D's advanced surgeries.
And for the third time in under forty minutes, I watch him wipe the invisible smudges from the barrel of his launcher as we waited for the rest of our group. We hadn't heard from them in the last half of a week, and with the recent news of Abel being crossed by The Order, I knew just how on edge he was. We all were. And with the addition of these "Keepers", as Constantine kept calling them, and a Droven, it was all horrid timing.
I opened my mouth to speak, but Makveli's gruff voice stopped me where I began.
"What take so long?!" He growled passed her beard, his brows furrowing together as his gaze scowled the floor. "Mexico what eh, 40 mile off? It been two days since call!"
I could only sigh, knowing better than to try to tell him to calm down. "I'm sure they can't be too far off now, Agen—"
"I no agent," Makveli interrupts me, his voice like the snarl of a bear. "No more, not for them."
I give him an annoyed glare, not liking to be interrupted but understanding his pinched nerve with The Order. "Alright, semantics," I retort. "Listen Mak, they'll be here. We just have ensure that if something does occur, we're in the right place to take action."
"What you, my senior now? I know that!" I watched the large man sit himself forward while placing his launcher aside. "We get rushed here, then they no here! We could be doing more productive!"
"Such as?" I ask, gesturing him to go on with a turn of my wrist, but knowing somewhere already what he was going to say.
"Beating the intel we need out of Bravado."
The man's answer threw me off, but I should have expected what came afterwards. "Oh...well we can't exactly do that just ye—"
"And making big booms," The Russian added with a grin, glad that I had taken what should have been obviously bait.
I roll my eye at him, but was glad to get at least that out of his system. "Anything else from The Lady?"
Makveli shook his head. "Not since we speak with others. Constantine's been strange as of late too. Like she hiding something. Much more secrecy, even for her."
"Because she knows the Constables," I remind him quickly in Constantine's defense. "She's been working at this nonstop, and though she's still more than just capable, age hasn't exactly complimented that." All I got in reply was a unsatisfied huff. I was going to ask him about how things were going with him trying to get that date with Kyung-ha, another one of my former senior agents who had dropped off the grid during my fresher years—And being that much like Makveli, she was a former Immortal, the woman was undoubtedly a force to be reckon with.
But I wouldn't get the chance to do so. We both looked at one another when the phone that rested between us began to buzz. It seemed to freeze us both in time until I gave him a nod.
Makveli picked up the phone, eying it for a second until he answered it. He was silent, but I could hear the murmured speech of the person on the other end.
The conversation was short, and to the point, and after Makveli closed the phone, seeing the look on his face, I asked, "What's the word?"
"They no far now," he says, much to my liking. I didn't know how much more waiting I could take. But his next statement had my eyebrow lifted. "But apparently, we go to the Florida place next."
"Florida?!" I sit up, and by all means I was astounded. "That's at least two days away, probably four and a half if we have to keep taking it slow—what the hell are we doing in Florida?"
Makveli shrugs at me. "Don't no yet. But I do not like it." He sighed. "Fucking Florida," I could hear him grumble again as he stood to start gathering their tools for the job.
I sigh, standing myself. "Better get packed up early then before the others get here so we can get on the road and move. Being here as long as we have has given me a bad feeling."
"Let's hope it nothing." Makveli moved me with a rough pat on the back. "You going to be okay?"
It takes me a moment to realize what he was referring to, but when I caught on, I tried to give as much of a reassuring nod as I could. "We'll get him before they do. It's the only choice we have."