"If you're lucky to have the finest of genes, then you're perfect."
Paragon is known to be the haven of perfection. A society built on walls, dividing different cities for people with different genetic levels.
Perfect citizens will be automatically...
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The atmosphere is as quiet as a graveyard.
I drift my eyes open and find myself kneeling on the ragged floor of what seems to be a storage room with the food crates neatly stacked beside the walls. I can smell the dust, let alone the foul tang of grimes all over the ground where I'm roughly dumped on.
"Rise and shine, kiddo," coming from a voice somewhere inside the room. It sounds hoarse and raspy, very foreign too.
Weakly lifting my head, a higher ranking official appears before my very eyes. His clothing screams wealth, power, and authority which is completely distinguishable from the guard's uniforms. I may not know him personally but for some reason, I feel like we've already met at some point.
"Can you tell your friend right here to stop acting tough? It makes him look stupid," he jeers at me, and gently let us learn that he's a sly.
I cast a feeble gaze over my shoulder and there's Harvey being pinned down beside me, his hands are cuffed behind his back and so are mine. Some parts of his vest and shirt have been ripped off with wounds visibly drawn on his exposed skin. Beads of sweat drip in streams and drench his body. With his head hanging low, he seems to be forcing his eyes shut.
Good thinking, I circulate in my head.
If he allows them to see his bionic eyes, we'll be in great trouble. Once the Bureau discovers about this information, they will quickly, without a doubt, wipe us out.
"I'm gonna ask you a question, alright? Truth or pain, your pick," the guy hisses while holding a rectangular remote in his hand.
He continues, "I believe that you two are involved in the series of violent hijacking and station lootings for these past few years. We had difficulty in taking you in. You guys were a tough catch. Now, if you still wanna live, you gotta tell me who's with you and who do you work for. If you cooperate, I might still change my mind."
Harvey simply laughs.
"What?" the official raises his brow in confusion, "You think this is a joke?"
Exactly after his upper lip touches the bottom one, a surge of excruciating pain immediately courses through my hands and up to my torso. The sudden sparks of burning and piercing sensation sucks the air out of my lungs. Fists impulsively clenching. Teeth is uncontrollably gritting. The damage I felt inside forces me to let out a scream.
"Electrical cuffs. Do you like it?" he says, the pain finally dwindling. "Specially designed for interrogating uncooperative criminals like you."
"If you think this device will make me turn against my friends then the Bureau gotta reconsider their funding for this useless item." I say, catching my breath.
"Oh, don't be so cocky. What you felt was only the bare minimum voltage and you couldn't even pull your shit together," he pulls a wooden chair nearby and sits on it, showing off the embroidered name on the right side of his icy-white coat. Smoothly tailored in cursive, it reads Thomas Roy.
