Frédérique blinks for a second to adjust to the lightning. Harsh white lights illuminate the room. Furniture is sparse with only a few chairs scattered around. A staircase occupies the left of the room, taking them to the second floor. Up there is much more refined. A rug covers the bare floor with a few sparse paintings hagnging from the walls. A table sits alone in the corner with more chairs surrounding it. What draws Frédérique's attention, however, is the single lone television sitting alone on the other side of the room. The sight of another TV and what they can do sends a shiver up her spine.
The two prisoners are escorted to the table where they are thrown into the open chairs. Frédérique glares at the tracers as they quite literally throw the unconscious Aiden into a waiting chair. His body slumps in it, unaware of the situation they are in.
"Les monstres de merde," she mutters at them.
She fixes the tracers with another hateful glare before turning to Aiden. The wound on his head has stopped bleeding at least, though that by no means suggests everything is fine. A nasty bruise covers a large part of his forehead and all his clothes are soaked.
Il a besoin d'aide rapidement ou il ne s'en sortira pas.
Despite having her wrists bound, she tries to unzip Aiden's backpack—since she couldn't access her own still on her back. The tracers watch motionless, allowing the action. Slowly, she grabs the zipper to his bag and pulls it up. The action is far more difficult than she thought with her hands tied together but she manages it. With the bag open, she starts rummaging through it. The two of them had packed little in the way of medical supplies but she had to find something that would work.
As she is rummaging through his bag a groaning sound echoes throughout the tower, followed by footsteps. A long shadow is cast down the next flight of stairs as a single figure walks down. With each step, their footsteps reverberate throughout the entire tower. The first she sees are a pair of boots slowly making their way down. From there, is a pair of legs masked in a long black trench coat quickly followed by a dark brown shirt with hands clasped behind their back. Finally, their head comes into view... masked by a commemorative mask.
Whereas all the tracers have a blank white porcelain mask, this person has more detail added to it. Two eyes stare at her through slots in the mask, though she is unable to identify their color. Red paint faintly colors the mask with it starting from where the eye holes are before trailing down the cheeks, making the person look like they are crying blood. A slight indent in the middle is where a nose should be and there is a gap nearing the bottom for the person to breathe out of.
The person walks over to where the two of them are at before grabbing a chair. They drag it over and have a seat opposite of her, completely ignoring Aiden.
"Go ahead and ask your questions, Frédérique," a male voice emanates from the mask, "I'd like to be through with them to get to my favorite part."
Frédérique finds her voice and speaks up. "How you..."
"Know your name?" He finishes. "I'll answer later but let's just get through your boring list of questions. I can only stomach them so many times." He waves his hand towards her. "So let me hear them."
"What you want avec us?" She asks.
"Oh, that I can't tell you yet, but rest assured it's for a very good reason."
Frustration builds up in her and she stands up. The tracers closest to them aim their rifles but he stops them with a raise of his hand.
"Why even let me ask questions if you no answer!" Frédérique snaps. "Who even are you?!"
YOU ARE READING
This World I Live In
Science FictionA lone boy finds himself falling into the woods. He soon discovers he has no memory of who he is, where he is, or why he is even here. After traversing the woods for a day, he discovers a scared girl by the name of Frédérique who he convinces to spe...
