I woke up in a daze. Where am I? I can't hear the rain, wasn't it raining? I try to observe my surroundings, and slowly the room comes into focus. I'm in a bed hooked up to different monitors and machines, each beeping and keeping time with different parts of my insides. There's a window in the side wall, but it looks off. It almost looks like a screen with an image of a garden... and... and...
"How is she?" says a voice I don't recognize.
"Still stable." That voice I know. Doctor Phillip Kreat, Ph.D. in Genetics of Super Powered Extraterrestrials, although that didn't stop him from branching out to humans as well. Gave him a bit too much knowledge of abilities and their users. Pair that with an ego only someone with that unique of a Ph.D. tends to have, and you get a super intelligent villain with issues. Lots of issues.
Wait did they say she? I must have shapeshifted in my sleep again. Good to know that still works.
"Doc look, her heart rate went up."
Oh man, they know I'm awake. I'll have to pretend to sleep now and make my escape later. Just go limp, close my eyes and--
"Good to see you're finally awake."
Nope, there's no way he noticed. Just don't move and he'll eventually go away--
"I've been watching you sleep for eight days; I know when you're faking."
Well okay then. That really couldn't have sounded creepier if he tried. I give up the act and open my eyes.
"How are you feeling? Any head pains or muscle aches? Fever or chills? Is your bandage comfortable? Do you need some water, maybe more blood?"
More blood? I notice the medical bag above me is a suspicious shade of violet. Did he study my blood? I try to look at him like I'm not entirely at his mercy, and think I'll attempt a classic hero quip.
"at's an invason of pivacy."
WOW that didn't come out right at all. I feel myself literally turning red with embarrassment. I want to shrink into myself and disappear.
To Phil's credit, he completely ignores it. "I was worried about this. You suffered a tremendous head injury before you arrived."
"Befoe?" The last thing I remember, I was undercover, then... I got into a fight... there was this flash of red light...
His house. I went to his house. I'm in his house.
His assistant enters the room holding a strange looking metal bar and some masking tape. I've never met her before, all the more reason to be careful.
"One moment, this should let you communicate with your brainwaves. I got it custom made by a friend of mine who specializes in torture-less interrogation techniques." He places the cold metal bar on my forehead and tapes it down.
[Is this an interrogation?]
"No, I just want you to be able to talk to me."
[Again, creepy.]
"Again?"
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Holding in your thoughts is a lot tougher than I expected. As soon as I was made aware that every unchecked brainwave and synapse was literally on display on the monitor above my head, it was over. [He could ask me any question; my past, my family, that embarrassing moment from last year's Christmas party--]
He holds his hand out to stop me. "Why don't we just start with, 'How are you feeling?'"
"Bah." Close enough.
YOU ARE READING
Synthetic Violet
Художественная прозаA hero shows up at a villain's doorstep one night. Dazed and bleeding, they look up at the villain, mumble "...I didn't know where else to go," and collapse. This is the story of Phillip and V.
