The Project

My Escorts

All I remember thinking after that little incident is that I was "safe". I was such and idiot for thinking that, I know. There's no such thing as safe for people like me. Society hates anything that differs from normality. And if it can't absorb and alter what's different it will always try to wipe it out. Can't have something disrupting the system you know. But I thought after I beat Cade (and some innocent animatronic kids) that night that I would be left alone by this group. The ones that have me in this room right now, and may I add they haven't come back to check on me or their unconscious poster-child who's slumped in the corner. Fan-freaking-tastic. I look down and notice my clothes are dirty and torn.

So much for my date...

I was wearing dark wash skinny jeans and a navy blue tank top with my signature brown leather jacket. The jacket still looked ok, but I had rips all over the tank top and blood and filth on the jeans. How is it I can't look phenomenal after battle like Cade? I know that sounds shallow but I would like to salvage some pride, and if that means looking gorgeous in a cell with an unconscious boy, so be it. Suddenly a noise crackles through my thoughts.

"Miss Arista, we're coming in. Now don't struggle, and we'll all get along fine. Thank you."

Who the hell do they think they are? They hold me captive and still have the gall to tell me to not resist??

The door opens, and some men that look like MIB rejects walk in. They all have pretty much the same overall, "don't talk to me, I'll smush your head like a grape" look. Typical. I know this shouldn't bother me, but I mean come on. If the government insists upon having a organization for freaks of nature like me, can they at least choose henchman who are less stereotypical? Sigh. I Guess beggars can't be choosers. The first member of the big-dumb-and-ugly club speaks up.

"Ma'am we are here to bring you to the boss."

I smirk and say

"I never knew trained gorillas could talk."

This earns a laugh from the suddenly conscious Cade, I catch a glimpse of him standing as I'm knocked a hard punch to my temple by the first speaker.

"Ma'am you were instructed to come with us without a struggle."

Cade speaks

"You gentleman can't take a little verbal beating? The lady was just exercising her freedom of speech after all. Cut her a little slack."

I DON'T need HIM to take up for me!

"Fine. I'm coming. Even though I advise you ladies to not get your panties in a twist if I say anything else that offends you, ok?"

I'm amazed they don't hit me for that. They do glare, but I think Cade's words were enough to keep them from killing me. Speak of the devil, he's laughing. Hard.

"It will be different having you around my dear, but I think it will be a welcome change of pace."

"What makes you think I'm staying?"

He suddenly looks deathly serious as the laughing light drains from his eyes. He leans close to my ear and I smell the sharp scent of cinnamon again as his breath brushes my ear, sending chills down my spine.

"Word of warning dear. Don't push things. I'll do what I can, but don't get hurt. We need you."

I'm dragged out the door as I look back at him. His mask of snark is back up, but I'm curious about what I saw a moment ago. Was he trying to protect me?