Houston (ON HOLD)

Prologue

I stare in annoyance at the bright lights above my head. If I stare at them long enough, I begin to see black dots dancing at the corners of my vision. I'm giving myself a headache, but I don't care. I've been sitting here for so long without anything to do, I'm considering barging down the door in front of me.

Of course, I've already checked to see if it's locked. It is. I'd tried to search for some key, but there's nothing in this room but me, the chair, and the table. By the time I'd figured out that much, a man came in and sat me at the table again, slapping handcuffs on my wrist, chaining me to the table. I'm trapped.

The chair creaks when I shift. The sound cuts through the room, eliminating the silence for a moment. The silence is deafening. The chain clamped around my right wrist rattles when I fidget my hands. The cement walls around me glare down at me like guards, showing me that I can't escape.  I clench my hands into little fists and then straighten them, trying to loosen up my stiff fingers. Why am I in handcuffs again? I haven't really hurt anyone, and I didn't necessarily do anything wrong when they put them on, so why am I chained up like some animal? Like a criminal?

The large metal door opens with a squeal and I look up. In a second my feet are ready to run. Through the door, I see the hallway that I'd seen before when they put me in here. I could easily get up, push past this man, and be gone, if not for my wrists being secured. The handcuffs remind me of how powerless I am, which I find I hate the feeling of.

A short, roly-poly looking man comes through the door, holding files under his arm. His hair is horribly dyed black and his eyes are the color of swamp mush. His expression is kind, though I can tell it's forced. People have given that look to me too many times for me to mistake it. He isn't looking forward to this interrogation. I wonder how he'd gotten stuck interrogating me and not my brother. They'd probably flipped a coin.

"Hello, Miss Collins." The man says with a voice that is surprisingly lower than his appearance shows. He extends his hand out to me. "My name is Dimitri Howard. How are you today?"

"I've been better." I reply coldly, not moving to shake his hand.

He blinks. Howard awkwardly coughs and wipes his hand on his pants. I don't care that I'm being rude. I'm tired of being here. I want to go home.

"I'm sorry, Miss Collins-" Howard starts.

"Emma." I tell him. "My first name is Emma. Not Miss."

His face turns a slightly deeper shade of red and he sits in the chair opposite me, setting the files down on the table. "Alright Miss...Emma. I'm just going to ask you a few questions, okay?"

I stay silent, staring at the files. I can't see much, but I see the words Personnel Files printed on the front in block letters.

"What's in there?" I say, jutting my chin toward it. I feel like I already know the answer.

He looks at me for a moment. "Just some junk files, really-"

"Then you don't mind me taking a look, right?"

Before he can stop me, I snatch the file from the table. When he finally gets a word out, I've already gotten the file open and am looking at the front page. I can feel the corners of my lips draw downward as I look down at the papers all neatly folded into the file, a cold spot settling on my heart.

Emma Collins, Threat Level 3

Blake Collins, Threat Level 10

USE EXTREME CAUTION

"So I'm a threat now, am I?" I say, feeling the anger bubbling in my chest.

"You must understand," Howard insists, leaning forward. "We have to be cautious. You and your brother...you two are extraordinary. Understand that under no circumstances are you considered dangerous."