The Eden Projects (Book I)

A beginning.

-4 Years Later, The Broker-

"What do you know about them?"

Ace, hated many things about his current state.

He hated things being slid to him, (A photograph slid its way across the table) he hated being forced to do anything, especially in rooms with fluorescent lighting glinting off glossy surfaces. It all spoke very much of law and formality. Both he was not fond of. Both of which he found himself snared in. The restraints cut into his wrists and brought up nothing but a toxic bitterness from him. It grounded him there. He remembered being outside, soaring high, and he remembered pain, sharp and masking, plummeting, and waking up in the room, the pristinely perfect room. If he didn't know better, he would say the world wasn't years dead. Societal collapse couldn't have led anywhere but here. But he did appreciate the rare cleanliness, and so, here he was, marveling at the lack of gore.

"Know about who?" Ace smiled, he knew how wicked it was. He rehearsed it every day. Every chance he had. It was charged. His smile was one that spoke of experience in matters other than simple. It was a complicated movement of muscles and feelings. Forcing whoever stood at the receiving end into a game of cat and mouse. It was good practice. Though he still hadn't worked out if he was the tricksy mouse, or the persistent cat.

The man across from him had been growing impatient. Evident by the crooked look on his face. His fingers played with the edge of an old folder. It was a thick one that suggested their desperate interest in "the who" of the conversation rather than "what" Ace was doing. They were being more than patient. So was Ace. "Are we just set to go in circles or are you going to cooperate?" The man sat back, the metal chair he was in creaked from the motion. "My patience is wearing thin."

Ace picked at the cuffs on his wrists. How long have I been here? His eyes were rather exhausted from all the white wall staring he had been doing. They longed for color. For anything organic to find rest on. All that stood as a break from the starkness was his own clothes, and that of the suited man. "I'm patient too." He smiled, softer this time. A condescending arch creased Ace's cheeks. He had nothing better to do, and he definitely didn't want to be alone.

"This is my last attempt with you. Past this point. You're useless to Ark, so you're useless to me." The man closed the folder before adjusting his sleeves. "Shame. Really." He rose to stand, pushing his chair in. "You know-" He fit the folder under his arm. "-you're the first one of our original Remnants I've met."

"Your Remnants. Tsh-" Ace shifted his burning gaze to meet the man, that term. "Don't talk to me like you own me." He let his hands down with an aggressive thump. "You're a thief is all." His spattered wings mirrored the motion, feather tips bending against the cold tile on the side that hadn't been jacked up by their trap. "To make matters worse, you guys are awful to guests. Can't imagine any of us would willingly come here. Even those who like this type of thing." He jiggled his cuffs. "I mean come on. No padding even. Fur? Feathers? Nothing?" He chuckled.

"Aren't you curious as to why that is?" The man clucked his tongue. "Why hasn't a single Remnant been here? In this very room. I'm sure you can sense that I'm not bluffing."

Ace drew in a breath, he wasn't lying. Only his scent filled the room. Scraping his claws against the cold ground Ace tried out his most intimidating stare. "Nope. Not interested."

"They don't usually make it far enough to get to me." The man offered up the answer, uncaring of Ace's behavior. "But you were important once. So to this I've given you my time." 

The tmp tmp of the suit man's shoes drew Ace's ear down as he moved to the door. Flashing his badge at the reader. They both had a rather flamboyant flair for the dramatic.