She Will Persist

4

"Axel Lawrence?" She repeated to me with an eyebrow arched. "Axel like the car part?"

"Like the singer," I replied. "But with an 'e.'"

"Seriously?"

"How the hell should I know? Parents ditched," I said, barely fidgeting. It was true, my name really was Axel, and I didn't actually know why my parents had named me that. The few times that I had seen them, it was them who asked me questions (where's the money, the food, the booze, you know, typical things a 9 year-old should know), for all I knew, it was the first thing my mom tripped over in our house after I was born. But it wasn't as if she was around for me to ask anyway, so for now my potential relation to Guns N' Roses will remain a mystery.

"Oh." Her face fell a bit, like she was actually pitying me.

I uncrossed my legs from where I was sitting on the floor of her cell. "Shit, don't worry about it. Really. I don't give a fuck about my parents. Never did. And I think I turned out reasonably fine all on my own anyway."

She didn't said anything for a while.

"My name's Adira. Adira Bowman."

-

My military combat boots barely made a sound as I headed down the hallway to Adira's cell for what I was hoping would be the last time.

She had been put on observation for four days after she had agreed to our compromise. The Director had sent me in with a notebook and pencil everyday since then with strict instructions to study her behavior, analyze her personality, complete a report on her experiment, and make an assessment as to how she would perform as an agent based on all of those facts. We had been locked together for 10 hours for the past four days.

Two doctors were the only other people to have entered her cell since the decision. They dressed her wounds and mobilized some of the brain equipment from our medical wing and brought it down with them to her cell, to find out how to remove whatever she had inside her that enabled her to be mind controlled.

She had looked terrified by all the new people in the small cell, like an abused dog or something, backed up into a corner and trying to look everyone in the eye at the same time. She didn't place anyone in a choke hold though, which was progress, and seemingly a gesture solely reserved for me.

I was honored.

Director Flagg had also decided that Adira would be given a "supervising agent," someone to oversee her for her first few weeks and be her guide. He would explain layouts to her and watch her training and report to the Director.

I'd suggested James Strider for the job. James was smart, reserved and quiet, and I think when Adira saw him she might calm down a bit. She was frightened of people, men especially, but I'd never seen James be frightening in my life. He has this quietly rebellious thing going on that I think Adira might like. James was... different. And based off of what I'd seen from Adira's reactions to men, someone like James might ease her fears.

-

"How did all this happen to you?" I asked her.

She swiveled her head from its position of absentmindedly staring out the tiny window. Today she was slightly more... perky, for lack of a better word. She wasn't curled up like a dried-out cinnamon roll at least. "You sound like a rich kid's therapist," she retorted. "Couldn't possibly give a single fuck about how I actually feel. Just bearing through it for the money."

Ah but the smartassery is still there.

"I'm pretty sure I'm not getting paid to do this." I flipped my pencil around my ring finger. A small notebook sat on the ground next to my thigh, an open blank page taunting me with its potential.