Athanasia

“Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say,” a seasoned guard nudged the newbie with his elbow. The young blood scoffed, “I believe it. Just what did those guys do to deserve all this security? Those holding chambers are brutal!”

“Trust me, kid, you don’t want to know. But--- let me show you something.” He pulled up his sleeve an inch to reveal four pin-straight ink lines running parallel on his wrist. The other nodded, and pulled his sleeve to reveal three.

“Those guys in there… they don’t have lines like the rest of us.”

“What? So they’ve never Phased before? How are they still alive?”

“Nobody knows for sure, but the rumour is, they have a circle.”

“You’re joking! What does that even mean?”

“Shhh, man, it’s top secret.” The older peeked around the corner to confirm the dim, blank hallway was clear, then said, “They’re a completely unknown entity. We don’t know what they’re capable of, but last month…” his whisper trailed off.

“What?”

“Another one of the guards went in that room to re-secure the vacuum bindings and…”

“And?”

“And he never came out. There was this flash of light and…he was just gone. Apparently the subject was nowhere to be found either.”

“Seriously? You expect me to believe that?”

“Why else do you think you were vetted so thoroughly before being stationed here?”

“I mean-”

The guards were interrupted by a loud noise coming from behind the locked door. Glass shattering and muffled, frantic voices. The low grey lighting turned red immediately. Alarms blared and flashed throughout the building. Electronic doors latched, leaving the guards alone in the hallway.

“W-what?” The veteran shuddered.

“It’s an evacuation, right?”

The double doors behind them flung open, knocking both guards to the ground. A glimpse into the holding room revealed one vacuum chamber that had been opened in the front. The observing room glass panels were destroyed. The dust settled, and the guards fumbled with their stun-guns to no avail. A tall figure in a suit clutched a scrawny kid in lab-issued shorts by the arm and strolled over them both. The heels of the leader’s boots clicked on the sterile tile, and the sound stretched as they walked around the hallway corner out of sight. The intercom speakers scratched for a moment, then a voice reverberated through the building:

“Experiment J/U No. 6 has escaped the operation room. The building is in lockdown. Do not engage. Repeat, do not-” The voice was cut short by another scratch. The lights flickered off.

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Felix sunk into his leather chair, threw his head back, and crossed his legs on his executive desk. Lowering his gaze slowly, his dusty copper fringe fell over his soft brow and he waited for a call. That damned clock in the corner kept clicking, and he brought two fingers to the bridge of his nose as the noise grew louder and louder in his head. He eyed his desk for anything wieldy enough to chuck, and flinched a little when the phone rang.

“Yes?”

“Felix, this is Shiloh.”

“Proceed.” Felix grabbed a toothpick to chew and leaned back into his seat again.

“Yeah, so… I went to the Reapers’ headquarters.”

“And?”

“And I requested an audience with Julian.”

“Of course you did. I asked you to.” Felix sighed and curled his finger around the landline cord.

“J/U No. 6’s identity has been confirmed, he’s the soul you’ve been tracking.”

“Excellent. So you’ll be bringing him here?”

“Well… not exactly. I gave Julian the message, and… he’s not going to let the boy out.”

Felix spit out his toothpick and jumped out of his seat. He took a few paces then turned and leaned over his desk, running a hand through his hair.

“And why is that?”

“Well, he gave me a message to return. I don’t know if I should say-”

“Say it.”

“Okay…” Shiloh sighed on the other end. She hated being caught between Julian (or anyone with a position in the Reapers) and Felix. Never turned out well.

“He said that he’s not your lapdog,” she paused and braced for some profanities, then continued, “and that he would bring the full force of the Government upon you if you tried to take the kid anyways.” She instinctively held the phone a little further from her ear. Felix puffed a laugh through his nose.

He set the phone down, respectfully, and whipped a stapler at the clock.

“Shiloh? Are you still there?”

“Ahem, yes, sir.”

He slipped a coat over his suit and grabbed his cane.

“I think it’s time we personally pay Ol’ Marvin a visit.”

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Earlier that morning, J/U No. 6 woke up with a splitting headache. He was lucky to have fallen asleep; it was the first time since he was captured that he could drift off. He suspected these experiments weren’t about confirming his identity so much as studying the body’s reaction to sleep deprivation--- he had needles and probes everywhere and Dr. Marvin would come tap on the little glass window every hour or so to wake him up. He saw his reflection in the glass and exhaled deeply to fog it up. He’d rather not think about how sickly he looked.

He took in his surroundings, straining to overhear the conversation outside his container. Dr. Marvin was chatting with another lab assistant in the observing room, a regular occurrence, but it was nauseating nonetheless. J/U No. 6 had been there for three and a half days and he was regarded by the staff as a bomb waiting to detonate. He needed to keep his eyes open.

The dull ache of his restraints around his wrists and the initial panic of being taken into captivity subsided, but J/U No. 6 stayed alert. In a twisted way, he was grateful they needed him enough-- at least to keep him alive for now-- despite his condition. His situation now was more stable than the majority of his life was. Regardless, he wanted his freedom back.

He’d get pieces of memories occasionally of various families who took him in as a young child, that is until they found out about his… difference. He sighed and fogged up the glass again, hoping to avoid seeing the little circle on his wrist. He’d rather not think about those times, either.

Instead, he focused on the conversation on the other side of the glass. A woman had entered, someone he’d never seen before. Her rectangle glasses protruded from the sides of her face, stuck into her hair tightly wound into a bun, and she carried a briefcase. Her feet planted shoulder-width apart as she stopped to stand in a naturally athletic stance. She established her arms at her hips, tilting her chin upwards slightly to stare down at the doctor through her thin frames. There hadn’t been any visitors allowed in the scientific stronghold, and J/U No. 6’s apprehension grew stronger when he realized they probably weren’t authorized to be there. He shuddered imagining what she might be here for, but if he could just get out of his wrist bonds, maybe they could provide a distraction. He twisted and pulled his shoulder, wiping some fog off the glass.

From the other side of the window, Dr. Marvin and two lab assistants stood across a desk from the woman and two others, bodyguards, he assumed. Dr. Marvin was shouting and waving his hands while the others stood calmly. It seemed to J/U No. 6 that Dr. Marvin was in trouble, and a cynical smile tugged at his lips. He ran his tongue along his teeth, eyes transfixed on their interaction. If this proved to be an opportune time to break out, he would make his move. He noticed guards surrounding the building with weapons that could kill him, but he shook off the fear: staying here could mean a fate possibly worse than death.

The doctor pointed to a phone and began to usher the new people towards the door when another man from the back appeared. His tall figure was framed with a black trench coat and bulky combat boots. He had on a pair of reflective glasses that were all but covered by his strawberry blond hair, and he held an ornate cane at his waist. Dr. Marvin seemed stunned, and he fell back into his swivel chair. He grasped for the phone, but the man in the coat slid his phone off the desk with the cane while the rest of the men in suits grabbed the doctors and took them aside.

The man in the coat gripped his cane with his right hand and drove it through the glass pane, shattering everything. J/U No. 6 straightened in his binds and his breath shallowed with each step the man in the coat took. The man bent down to stare through the window and J/U No. 6 winced, trying to maintain his composure and what little dignity he had left. The man took off his glasses and his pale eyes and sharp gaze sent a jolt through J/U No. 6’s body.

“Huh. Smaller than I thought you’d be,” the man spoke in a jovial, lilting tone and turned his head slightly. He reached up and undid the latches and locks on the chamber, and the door opened with a hiss.

J/U No. 6 relaxed against his wrist restraints and concealed his surprise when the man flicked out a pocket knife and cut him free. He cut loose his ankles and helped him out of the chamber, but not before J/U No. 6 muttered,

“Older than I thought you’d be.”

They paused for a moment and J/U No. 6’s stomach flipped, unsure of his situation, but he kept his distrustful stare. He held eye contact and furrowed his stubborn brow, but the man doubled over laughing. His loud chuckles turned to giggles as he clutched his stomach and wiped a fake tear off his face.

“I guess there’s one thing hiding out in those libraries didn’t teach you, kid,” the laughter stopped, but the smug grin on his face lingered, “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you. Let’s go, chop chop.”

The man tugged J/U No. 6’s wrist and they strode outside the door. He could hear a scuffle back in the observing room, and ignored it, hoping it would buy him time. His kidnapper, or rather, savior, was walking briskly, no sign of panic despite having breached one of the most secure buildings in the country. J/U No. 6 was always attentive to his surroundings, but he still couldn’t quite grasp his situation. He hesitated, glancing back at the guards they had passed, and was pulled along again. As it seemed, they were simply walking out of the headquarters set aside for the Reapers, a confidential government agency dedicated to the study of immortality.