Empathy

Chapter Two: Normal?

"A 500 out of 500, that's impossible." I mumble, taking MIshel's hand to lift me up from the ground. She walks to the front of the room and twists the hidden knob. Without a word Mishel directs me out of the testing room.

"It's remarkable." She praises as we step out into a corridor more doors are alined along the walls. Tests are still in session.

"It's not normal." I tuck my hands inside my ripped jean pockets. My cloak covers most of my body, it shields my eyes the most though.

"Since when has any machine been, normal?" Mishel asks as we get to the end of the hallway she opens another door, entering a four digit combination into a keypad. We enter what I can only assume is the front entrance. Men and women in black and red uniforms bustle around the building, the police.

"Something must've gone wrong with my test, maybe a malfunction in the system-" Before I can continue Mishel hushes me.

"Don't talk so loud child." She warns as we depart down a flight of stairs heading for the backroom. She unlocks another door, this time with a keycard. "Take a seat over there." She gestures towards the red leathered couch in the back of the room. A white wooden desk is set in the middle, piles of paperwork are cluttered upon it. There's no windows and from the look of the metallic walls, this room is soundproof. "Go ahead, I know you have questions." Mishel says leaning beside the walls doorframe.

"Am I gonna die?" I ask casually, as if the thought of a grave doesn't bother me at all.

Mishel snickers. "I don't think so, at least not yet."

I sit up in my seat and fold my metallic hands in my lap. "What happens now?"

"We wait for Scepter Sevens leader, along with President Cage." She crosses her arms over her chest and watches me, staring into my greying colored eyes, she frowns. The effect of sadness washing over her. "Why did your brother create such sorrowful eyes?"

The answer is so simple, it's always been in the back of my mind. "To take a burden off his shoulders. He's given me the other half of his bipolar disorder." When depression hits me I'm vulnerable, I can't cry, he never programed me to be capable of it. I just have to let the effects pass me by, it sounds easier said then done.

"Makes sense." Mishel turns away to stare at the blank ceiling, her eyes go anywhere but me.

I rest an arm over my eyes the intoxication from the gas that was used to make me pass out is now taking its tow on my circuits. It was all a test, every second of it, but it felt so real. Aunt Gemma must be worried sick right now, Aunt Gemma...Aunt Gemma! I open my eyes. "My Aunt, does she know I'm here?"

Mishel nods, "Of course she does, she dropped you off this morning."

"I don't remember..." I mumble feeling my head pounding as if Independence Day came early.

"That's just another effect from the gas. Don't worry it'll wear off soon and you'll remember everything that's happened today." She reassures before turning her attention back to the fascinating wall.

I count the minutes until the door creaks open, twenty-two minutes and thirty-nine seconds. I straighten my shoulders and stand up. A tall figure walks into the room.

"Kiera?" His voice is strained from exhaustion but after five years I still remember it. How can I forget, when he was the first man who ever made me feel, and what I felt was loneliness.

My brother. My inventor. Elliot Spade.

I don't say anything, I can't. He's paralyzed me with just his familiar emerald eyes. Without warning he rushes to me, embracing me. His lips tremble slowly but he's a soldier now, he won't show too much weakness. "Let me look at you." He pulls back lifting up his hands to remove my hood. One of his hands is placed against my cheek while the other holds a piece of my jet black hair. "You've taken care of yourself."