Find Violet Hyde: Secrets In Space

Locked

For the first time in years, Archie did not know what to do next and that realization struck terror in him worse than utter darkness, isolation, or cold. He paced his cell, counting his steps around the perimeter of the room. Five steps each wall, he told himself. Archie could not see his hand in front of his face, but his right fingertips grazed a crevice in the soft cold padding lining the room.

He knew days had passed, probably, but the exact number remained a mystery. Upon arrival, he screamed and shouted and went half crazy. He would have tried something, anything to get out that day. Now he was quiet, even silent when the people in blue brought him food. Lucille took something worse than his life. His will to fight slipped away as each minute passed.

During his stay at the Agency, he received food five times thus far and judging from the hunger that regularly gripped his gut, whoever maintained his feeding schedule came once a day or once every other day. Or, he thought, they could have a random schedule for confusion's sake. He was aware of how harsh the Agency could be. In his youth living in Genesis, Archie heard stories of people going to the Agency and returning scarred – both mentally and physically.

He worried over not being treated worse. If this place is so terrible why have I not been tortured? Interrogated? Drowned? Burned? The waiting followed by nothing drove him mad. If they're going to do anything, why haven't they yet? He wondered these things constantly, looping them over and over in his head, unable to stop the flow of uncertainty. Whistling helped him sometimes, it kept his mind from spinning out of control and provided noise to break the silence. Sanity is a fragile state, he realized.

"Why? Why did Lucille send me here?" He asked himself, trying to find purpose in his solitude. He supposed it was his inability to keep his mouth shut that really landed him where he was.

Footsteps in the hall interrupted his thoughts. Food, maybe? Were there two sets of steps? Far too quick to be one of the usual attendants...

He pressed his ear to the padded door, straining to listen. As steps moved closer, then stopped, peculiar clicking sounds began behind the door. Archie moved backward, mentally preparing himself for the possibility of torture. The door slid open with a long metallic scrape.

Pain shot through his skull as he shielded his eyes from the sudden burst of light streaming in through the hallway. He couldn't see anything yet, but he heard a voice.

"Archie Hubert, ya in 'ere?," a gruff male asked.

Archie tried to speak, but all that escaped his lips was a dry cough.

"Must be, yer the last miserable sucker left on this row," a woman said in her high chirpy voice, then sniffed, "it sure smells like the right amount of time, too...phew."

"Yes...ah...Archie," It was a struggle for him to rasp his way through two simple words, but his sight was returning to him. There were two people standing in his cell.

"Hmph...drink some water," The man held out a canteen. He wore a long ratty patchwork coat with more compartments and zippers than Archie could count. He was tall and robust, with rich dark skin and suspicious eyes. His mouth and chin were obscured by a thick but short black beard.

"Who are you two?" Archie asked, after chugging probably more water than would agree with him.

"Tha names 'er not real important. Why don't ya tell us why yer 'ere and what ya know. If the Pres put ya 'ere...she must've had a reason and a good one at that. Tha woman may be power hungry, but she's also smart. So, start talkin'." He took the water back from Archie and covered his nose with an arm.

The woman stood a foot away from Archie, peering up into his eyes. She was small, short in stature and thin in frame. Lime and fuchsia tinted locks of hair swept down the left side of her pale face while the right side was shaved close to the scalp, showing one sky blue eye. Decked in tight black leather from head to toe, her head seemed to float in the darkness. Something glowed at her hip and it took Archie a moment to realize just what it was. Her right arm was gone and in its place was a mechanical one with glowing interfaces and oiled black metal. The prosthetic started at her shoulder as a jumble of mismatched wires inside a steel frame down to her digits.