𝐅𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬... ❧ ᴏᴅᴜ / ɴᴄ & ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

🥀 S2 CH. Six; Filipendulous

❧

"Darling?"

The voice gets no response, and it continues in a disheartened tone.

"Your body is changing. Don't allow them to use it against you... Please."

Those words echo in your head for a short while, before fading altogether when your eyes flutter open. You can almost make out your blurry surroundings, yet processing where you are comes slowly.
        Pain tingles all across your body, but it's easy enough to ignore for now... Because at the moment you just wish to remember what happened.
        Not remembering how you ended up like this– you of course know that. What you really want to remember is what happened after you lost your consciousness.
        It's that voice– it's not something you recognize, yet it sounds familiar. Which must mean you've heard it before, you just don't know when. There's two different voices, both of them sound like him... and yet one is definitely different.
        It kept warning you, and was telling you to return... It wouldn't elaborate exactly on where to return though. It stopped talking to you as you laid there in nothingness; and in that nothingness, there was one thing you could see.
        Roses.
        Why roses? You weren't really sure. Yet looking at them made your skin feel itchy; they also caused the voice to stay quiet, as if to get you to focus entirely on the dark red flowers in front of you.
         Something weird happened after that, the petals started falling out– then, nothing... At least, it was nothing until his real voice whispered to you, something about someone using your body against you.
         Do you really want to listen to anything he has to say though? After everything he's put you through, you rather not.
        "Besides... Bene is–" your half open eyes focused on the barren ground, the fuzzy pictures of his face still circulating your mind. Thinking about him gives your heart a weird tugging sensation, the same one you became aware of back in the asylum... There's no doubt about it now, something is pulling you towards The [DOCTOR], and since it's still going even after days of separation– that must mean.
        "No, he's... still alive."
         This sudden realization raises the hair on your neck, and your eyes open up all the way at last. You lift your head to gaze around where you've been laid down– against the ground in a mostly empty tent; except for where you lay bound with tight rope around your wrists and ankles.
          You take note of how you've been stripped of your trench coat, gas mask, beanie and belt. You pull yourself up into a sitting position, a quiet groan escaping your mouth when the throb in your chest worsens.
          Your gaze finally drifts from the entrance and towards your torso. The feeling in your chest is tight, and a dull ache circulates within your ribs... Your mind goes back to the fall, remembering the subtle crack when you hit the ground.
          As the pieces come together, you grumble under your breath and shift into a more comfortable position of leaning against the pole that supports the tent.
          Through the crack in the tent, you can see a clear blue, evening sky. It must be the next evening or so since you fell. And the sky... When was the last time you saw it as blue?
          As you stare towards the crack, you take in deep breaths to get your breathing under control... And you're soon almost at ease; that is, until you hear the flaps of the tent open.
          Again your heart rate quickens, the pain in your muscles flaring up once more when they tighten with the anticipation of the enemy coming to check on you.
          In walks the girl... The spy.
          She stops, and stares at you with a neutral expression. This little staring contest doesn't last long, and soon she crouches on one knee in front of you, watching you with an intense gaze.
           "You're [Name], yes?"
            Her simple question hardens your glare at her, and you give her a slight nod instead of answering verbally.
           "[M4]," she introduces, and she gives you a tiny smile when she watches your eyebrows raise in reply to her having such a weird name.
           "Call me Mag though, capiche?"
           You give her another nod, and she leans forward– her hand slipping into an inner pocket in her coat. You lean back with a growing distrust as she pulls out whatever she had tucked away in there.
           You feel your stomach drop when she pulls out a small dagger. "Hold still," she instructs as she points it towards your ankles. She slips the blade under the rope and slices it upwards, cutting it in one swift flick of the wrist.
           Mag then leans back and withdraws the dagger as she gets to her feet.
           The moment your feet are free from the ropes, you waste not another second sitting on the ground.
           You jump up and push past her and out the tent's exit, ignoring the twisting pain in your chest and head as you make your way outside. Mag makes no movement to catch you, which you find odd until you're stopped in your tracks by a firm hand on your shoulder.
           You look up to meet the masked face of a huge, burly soldier. He lets go of you to instead fold his arms behind his back– the red ends of his coat flaps in the breeze.
           You can feel his heavy gaze watching you. He makes no movement or noise, he just stares at you... As if he's analyzing every aspect of your body and soul.
           Narrowing your eyes at him, you take a couple steps back, but you're stopped when you back up against a second soldier.
            You tilt your head back to look up, half-expecting another freaky gas mask– but no, just a scarred face. His black-eyed stare looks down at you, and he lifts his lip in a sneer.
            His eerie resemblance to Macabre leaves you speechless; his sharp grey eyes studying your surprised expression. This is when you take notice of the huge weapon on his back, and a faint feeling admiration fills you. So this is the monster obliterator...
            He seems a bit weirded out with the sparkle in your eye, and quickly grabs you by the top of your head and pulls you over to the fire pit.
            As much as you wanted to fight against these people, it's no use in your current state. They'd definitely kill you. So you follow alongside him over to the crackling fire.
            You swallow dryly the closer you get, half wondering if these spies also happen to be cannibals and you're about to become their dinner. Yet the fear of being roasted on an open fire dissipates when the man sits you down on a rock so you can receive the fire's warmth.
            You give him another wary glance as his hand lets go of you. He silently undoes the rope on your wrists, freeing your hands at last. He then turns away and walks off; leaving you in a pool of confusion. You aren't complaining while you rub at your wrists.
            Mag had followed the two of you over to the fire to also sit down. She looks over to you, seemingly wanting to say something until the soldier in the gas mask walks over as well; she then averts her eyes from you.
           The soldier pauses, and although you don't look at him, you can feel he's standing closely at your side.
           It feels like forever before he finally speaks, his gruff voice muffled behind his mask. "You're a test subject?"
           "Uhm... Sorta," you tell him, not at all enjoying being called that... It feels so dehumanizing.
           He doesn't say anything else for a moment, which gives you enough courage to look over your shoulder. As you suspected, he's hovering over you– watching your every movement.
           You half expected him to ask something else about you, yet his next words leave you feeling even more puzzled.
           "How well do you know the history of the operatives?"
           That question is so random that you don't even answer him right away. You give him a confused look before replying quietly. "A little bit, why?"
           "What do you know about the five operatives killed many years ago?"
            You raise an eyebrow, unsure how any of that is relevant to this current situation. "Not much, since it's considered classified information."
            He lifts his gaze off you at last as he now introduces himself. "I'm [REALISTIC]_Day... And over there," he points to where the second continues to stand guard, "that's [FATAL]_Day."
            You nearly choke on the saliva forming in your mouth when those words come out of his mouth. "Y-you mean... Aren't you supposed to be-"
           "Like you said..." Realistic looks down at you again, "that's classified information."
           The shiver in your body worsens, and you bring your gaze to that scarlet broach on his shirt-collar. An all seeing eye.
           When you finally look back to his gaze, it feels more like a glare now. You find yourself glaring back when you ask him, "what do you want from The Union?"
           There's so many more questions than that to ask, but the way he shifts his weight is a reminder that he certainly has no intention on answering any of them.
           Realistic leans over to get closer to your face, close enough now that you can both hear his labored breathing, and smell the rotting stench on him.
          "You."
          His simple one-worded reply causes a shiver to trail down your spine. Yet before you can ask what he means by that, he leans away from you, giving you one last good look before he begins walking over to where Fatal is standing.
          You stare at the backs of the two ex-operatives, wondering that they now are discussing. Though you assume it's about you.
          After a short moment, Mag clears her throat, and you look over to find her standing up. "Follow me."
          She stands up and walks over to a small, dead tree that is behind the tent. You're a bit reluctant to get up, but eventually you do so and trail after her. Once standing nearby, you wait for her to speak her mind.
          Mag stays silent for several minutes, staring towards the distant horizon.
          You continue looking from her to over your shoulder, where the two ex-operatives have since began cooking something up over the fire.
          At last you hear her breathe a deep sigh, and your gaze returns to staring at her.
          "You're here for a reason..."
          Your previous impatient expression shifts to a more curious one, before it falls blank again. "More like I'm here against my wil-"
          "Just listen!" She turns to meet your gaze, "we need your help."
          "... What?"
          She glances towards the two before looking back at you, a serious look on her face now as she speaks with a quiet voice. "You must help us get into... the [FINAL CITY]."
          You give her a confused look, not having a single clue as to what she's on about... Not just that, but "why would I help these people?"
          Mag sees that look on your face, and sighs. "The [DAWNS] will be airlifting the survivors to the Final City soon, and the only way for us to get it, is to have an inside source helping us."
          Learning this, you perk up, and Mag looks relieved to have finally gotten your attention on the matter.
         "W-why though?"
         "That city contains something the [RESISTANCE] needs."
          How suspicious... Yet interesting. You don't want to do this though, these people are after valuable information on The Union– and you're a loyal Days civilian, you don't want to aid their enemies.
          "I... I can't do that."
          You watch Mag's fists clench upon hearing your words, and she gives you a glare. "Why not?"
          "I'm not helping our enemies..."
          "Enemies? The Days Resistance is not your enemy, The Union is your enemy! You're nothing but a weapon of war," the subtle friendliness in her voice before completely vanishes; her icy words leave you stunned for a moment.
          "What...?"
          "There's a reason everyone is so interested in you, and it isn't for good reason," Mag tells you, she turns away to go back staring at the horizon, "only we can protect you."
           Hearing this turns your once curious gaze into a cold stare. You don't need protection from these people, you can protect yourself just fine... Right?
           The two of you stay quiet now, and you quietly debate whether or not to speak up, or go back to the fire-pit. Yet before you can open your mouth, you're silenced by that voice.
          "Don't let them use you."
          The moment it utters those words, your vision blurs over, and ringing echoes within the depths of your ears– your hands shoot up to grab the sides of your head.
          Mag turns to you again, a concerned look written on her face while she watches you breathe heavily. Unaware of the voice within your mind.
          "Only I can do that..."
          Just like before, there's no fighting it. You feel your legs buckle underneath you, and your world returns to nothingness the moment your body hits the ground.