Chapter Text
T he room was charged with a current of electricity I couldn’t ignore. Langdon could see right through me stumbling over my words, and he didn't stop playing with my hair even if it was making me visibly uncomfortable. The candles in the room were almost down to their wick, needing to be replaced soon if he wanted me to continue to read. I swallow down my apprehension and heed his unsaid command.
“If he had been, you would not have loved him, my dear lady,” was the rejoinder. “Women love us for our defects. If we have enough of them, they will forgive us everything, even our intellects. You will never ask me to dinner again after saying this, I am afraid, Lady Narborough, but it is quite true.”
“Of course it is true, Lord Henry. If we women did not love you for your defects, where would you all be? Not one of you would ever be married. You would be a set of unfortunate bachelors. Not, however, that would alter you much. Nowadays all the married men live like bachelors, and all the bachelors live like married men.”
Langdon’s hands stop running through my thick, wavy, ink black locks which makes me in turn stop reading. Unsure, I look up to him for further directions, all the while I’m holding my tongue from asking any questions. As if I’d believe he’d answer me, and certainly not truthfully. Feeling the air in the room change I make the decision to mark the book and put it on the table giving Langdon my full attention.
“Things are starting to stir up in this little burrow.” He placed his elbow on the table laying his head in his hand, giving me a shit eating grin. As if pumped for the future chaos that would ensue. My thick eyebrows furrow down instinctively, unable to control my reaction. I can't wipe away my puckering sourpuss pout fast enough for Langdon to not see. “Oh, you don’t like it when I mention the ensuing game we’re playing? In denial, or you don’t want to discuss the dirty details?” He jovially questions, getting visibly excited with every word.
“I’m not in denial! I just don’t like playing this game with you. I don’t see it like that…and I don’t want to play.”
“I’m sorry Darling, but no one has a choice when it comes to that matter. Everything else, yes, but that is non-negotiable.” Langdon’s dark insidious tone haunts the very room, making me shiver, the threat clear in the air.
“Wh-when are you going to start interviewing the greys?”
“Ah, changing topics I see. I can play along, for you.” Langdon sighs at me despondently, as if I was acting like a naughty child. “It’ll be soon, starting with your friend Mallory, was it?”
“Yes, her name is Mallory and she is a good person.” I state firmly not batting an eye at him naming the only person I had left at this god forsaken outpost.
“Hm, coming up to bat for her? Is she worthy of your spot? Would you give it to her to cement her survival?” He goes straight for the juggler as he lounges in his seat, seeming like he had not a care in the world. I guess he didn’t have anything to worry about, being the only person in this place that was 100% getting out of this alive.
“Yes.” I state firmly looking him directly in the eye, not cowing under his dark abyss of a gaze, thinking it was a no brainer choice. Mallory has something special about her, and she is naturally good at everything she does. She also wasn’t a trouble maker like…well me. She is definitely a better pick to bring to this future society. I’m damaged goods in comparison.
“You really believe that, hah! It kind of makes me sick, you know. I think I have a stomach ache from… being near you.” He guffaws, seeming to choke on my audaciousness, not expecting my earnest answer. I cross my arms, sighing, and my wispy bangs flutter from my puff of indignation. “Now tell me why you’re all worked up? I can feel it creeping off of you. And it's not about this Mallory person.”
“Did you choose me because I’d be a good candidate for the incubator program?” I burst out with the question, not able to hide the disgust curling my upper lip. He bursts out with a voracious laughter that sounds deranged, if heard by anyone it would evoke chills down their spines. Who knew a laugh could feel so threatening.
“Do you want to volunteer for the incubator program?” He asks as he wipes at an invisible tear. Standing up he leans over me, both arms caging me in as he grips the armrests. I didn’t know I could grow any paler than I already was, becoming a ghostly color I felt bile rise up from my throat. I shake my head vehemently staring up at him with tears brimming my eyelids.
His face inches closer and his hot breath tickles my left ear. I can’t stop the blush crawling across my face. He lays his cheek flush against mine as if waiting with baited breath for something. His body heat completely surrounds me making me feel as if I was sweltering inside a boiling pot.
“N-no Langdon, please.” I whimper out instinctively pushing my hands against his chest, trying to gain some sort of space. The rumble of a growl starts from his chest and vibrates out his throat, sending shivers down my spine.
“Well then you have nothing to worry about.” He stands back adjusting his suit, his voice giving no hints of our intimacy. Finally able to breathe again I take in a huge gulp of air. Langdon’s eyes flash and I can visibly see him staring at my throat, with an odd fascination I didn't wish to decipher. I gulp again, not able to control my instinctual fear. He swipes my hair back to tuck it behind my ear and I openly stare as he does this, mesmerized by the way his delicately demeanor—even if its right after one of his cruel word games.
“Then why did you choose me? Please answer honestly, for once.” I all but beg, whispering, not able to break the intimacy clogging up the atmosphere. His close proximity not helping the situation, either. Langdon’s eyes flash at my insult, but he doesn’t move out of anger nor to insult me.
His face flickers with so many emotions; the warring expressions look odd on his usually uncannily still face. So composed and fully cemented into a facade I’d never thought I’d see him react so viscerally about anything. He grabs me with a jerk by the shoulders, leaning close to my ear as if worried we’d be overheard or watched.
“I know you from somewhere somehow. I think someone wiped our memories. ” He whispers aggressively, his large hands now gripping my arms so tight they begin to bruise. His calm demean is wiped away and replaced with a wild stare of burning indignation that has me growing more anxious by the second.
“Wh-what? How? Who would do that?” The questions tumble out of my mouth and there are a million more brewing inside me. Oddly, my first instinct wasn’t to call him a liar, and maybe that’s a mistake, but I can’t help but feel this inkling that he’s right. That I’ve met him and we knew each other.
“The Cooperative and I have many enemies, but what about you?” He asks, sparkling madness becomes apparent as he starts to shakes me. As if that would help me answer faster.
“No! I barely talked to anyone outside of my family.” I struggle to get out of his grip.
“How’d you get a spot here then? Do you remember any details?”
“I…I remember I was part of the lucky few. I was in the right place at the right time. I…don’t remember much though, actually. I had fallen and knocked my head when being trampled by a crowd outside of…New Orleans Union Station. It's kind of foggy after that…” I instinctively start to tear at my hair trying to get my brain to work. Remember! This is important, stupid!
Langdon grabs my hands stopping me from hurting myself further. He radiates pure disappointment without saying a word, and I can’t help but feel bad from my outburst.
“It's alright, darling, but your memories have been altered. You can’t control it…and neither can I.” His voice takes on an insidious tone when trying to whisper his assurances. A shiver runs up my spine as he tries to soothe me by stroking my hair. His other hand clutches my hip with a steel-tight hold, like he thought I’d disappear if he let me go.
“Am I even me? Did they change who I am; am I walking around pretending to be ‘Darlene’ when I’m somebody completely different?” I go off, my mouth moving without being fully aware of what I'm saying.
“No, they didn’t change your identity. They just wiped out parts of your memory.” He assures and instinctually I start to relax in his arms, feeling at my safest being by his side. And I don't know why I feel this way. Is it because of my lack of memories---but somehow my body remembers him? Or is this all bullshit? Its making me spin in circles thinking about it.
I look up at him through this odd angle forcing my head straight up, giving him direct eye contact. He looks down, his intimidating dark trench of a stare makes me swallow my fear down, nervously, but it doesn’t stop me from asking my next question.
“How do you know that?” I shiver as cold sweat trails down my back, Langdon’s smile grows wide across his face. If it was made of porcelain it would have cracked. The memory of the shadows flickering and the monstrously too large sharp smile fit for a fable creature from a Lovecraftian novel. It was a trick of the light, right?
A big bang, then another, echoes across the masonry walls of Outpost 3. I flinched, shuttering, burying myself even closer inside his arms, feeling my safest bet was where I was right now. A quick rapid knock at the large barn doors rumbles, and not a second later it opens to reveal a grey.
Dean, sort of a friend, more a friendly acquaintance if I’d had to label our relationship. He was a bit too cowardly to be a real friend of mine, and would rat someone out if it would save his own hide. But he was still generally nice, and that's better than seventy percent of the outpost.
Dean was out of breath and his pale skin looked deathly white. His salt and pepper black hair was out of place, as if he’d just ran a marathon. His thick brows were furrowed, struggling for the words to say, looking scandalized. His mouth was gapping at us, his square jaw, usually tight lipped expression he carries was now slack, looking like it was a second away from falling to the ground as if in a cartoon.
Realizing too late I push myself out of Langdon’s embrace, and he lets me flounder, almost falling over my own two feet. I adjust my skirt glaring at him. Langdon tucks his hands behind, straightening his back, as if we weren’t caught in an intimate embrace. Playing it cool like always; his defacto state of being.
“Yes?” Langdon raises an eyebrow at Dean, giving him an icy glare.
“M-Ms. Mead and Ms. Venable has taken Emily and Timothy outside to be executed but-but they were fighting for the gun ...and now,” He trails off looking at his large hands, he gulps his fears down then continues. “I ran here after hearing the struggle. I-I thought you’d help!” He yells out of breath—halfway to hyperventilating.
“Execute them! Why?” I blurt out, completely baffled. I take an instinctive step forward as if ready to run into danger full speed ahead.
“They were caught in bed together.” Dean shrugs, knowing full well what that meant at Outpost 3. Langdon burst out into a fit of giggles, leaving us two greys to gap at him–gob smacked by the audacity.
“Ah, I see, Ms. Venable has made her move.” Langdon mutters under his breath just loud enough for my ears to catch. Dean looks like he’s growing progressively more shaken up with fright the longer he stands under Langdon’s presence. “Well, I guess I must attend to it then. Good work, Dean.” He pats Dean’s shoulder as he moves for the door. I jump to follow behind, readying myself to see something horrific. Langdon raises his arm barring me from continuing, stopping mid step and turning around to face me.
“What?”
“Stay here. I don’t need to have you come and be a hindrance if things get messy, can I?” He asks back condescendingly, as if mad at me for trying to do my job! I’m supposed to be his shadow, his left hand; those are his words not mine! Now he wants me to stay here and not get myself into trouble. Like I was some brat he was forced to babysit for less than minimum wage.
“But I–”
“Stay. Here.” His voice is tight like a fraying rope, and his abyss of a glare didn’t leave me any wiggle room to argue.
“Yes, Langdon.” I admit my defeat with a whispery sigh, my shoulder drooping. Not wanting to be held up any longer he moves to leave with an urgency now in his steps.
I’m left there to ruminate rather than see with my own eyes, and it only boiled my blood the longer I thought about it. Of course Langdon would find some way to make sure he was in control of me, not the other way around. Even with him revealing why he chose me, he never explained how it was done to us. Or how he knew about it in the first place.
A rough cough comes from behind me, and I jump out of my skin turning around ready for my fight or flight instincts to take over. Dean stood there awkwardly with a small wave, used to being forgotten when in a room. All grays are, but Dean especially so. Even with his height and strong features, his personality and demeanor was easily forgettable.
I sigh, letting go of my fear and trying to force myself to relax. Not to worry about Emily and Timothy. Don’t even want to consider what might happen if Langdon got hurt…no it would be disastrous for sure. At least Dean had the forethought to come and get some help.
“Good job, by the way. What you did might score you a spot at The Sanctuary for all we know.” I force out a strained laugh, trying to lighten the mood. Dean shuffles closer, tucking his hands into his uniform’s pants pockets. He shrugs and a blush spreads across his ghostly features reaching all the way to his big ears.
His big brown eyes openly stare at me, looking over my body, as if evaluating something in his head. He always liked to dwell on his words before speaking, a man of few words it was my ma' would of labelled him as. Sadly a lot of people didn’t like to wait around for him to speak, and that factored into a lot of people ignoring the poor guy. It's why I always went out of my way to include him in conversation whenever I could. I felt bad for the guy, honestly. He seemed like the lonely sort.
He takes another step now not but a foot or two away from my face. A bit too close for my personal liking. He wasn’t good about personal space either, but I always assumed that was because of how physically big he is. He doesn’t comprehend how his body might invade others' space when he walks or hovers. Charlotte just thought he was an odd one and didn’t like talking to him just like everyone else. It only made me feel more sympathetic for the guy.
“You know…Emily and Timothy were screaming at Ms. Venable and Ms. Mead while they were being dragged away. They kept saying that they were lying about the rules. That The Cooperative never had any rules about copulation, and that it was made up. Isn’t that crazy, right?” He breathes loudly, chuckling as he relays this to me.
His stale breath puffing over my face makes me flinch back, and I can feel my hackles begin to rise. I step backward and he steps forward. Like a cat and mouse we follow each other's movements, one after the other. I hold my breath and begin to lockup reaching for the edge of the door without taking my eyes off Dean’s toothy smile. Grabbing both my wrist tight with large scratchy hands he’s boxed me against my only exit.
“You know what’s even crazier? They didn’t deny it. As they were strolling them to their execution, they didn’t even deny that they were dying for a lie !” He laughs out, spittle landing on my cheek.
“What are you doing Dean? Stop! Why-why are you doing this?” Finally gaining my voice back when his other hand starts trailing down my body. Hands fully captured under his bruising grip—with only one large hand, he moves his other up my skirt. “Stop! Dean, please stop!” I struggle to wiggle out of his hold trying to get away from his hand. He tears at the stockings, loudly shredding in my ear, and all I can feel is my heart rate pick up at a nauseating speed. I feel bile rise up in my throat and I scream loudly into his dumbo like ears.
He winces, a noisy bull-like snort comes out of his crooked nose. Anger flashes across his big brown eyes; his hands are on my throat before I can utter another scream. My hands now free I claw for his eyes and kick at his shins, but instead of dropping me he raises me in the air by my throat and slams me against the door. Losing my breath my vision goes black. All I can feel is my windpipes exploding and my back felt like it was on fire, but my body wouldn’t move. Couldn’t move.
My vision returns blurrily and the white spots sprinkle across my vision. Nothing would prepare me for the sight above me. Dean’s pants zipper was open and he was holding his purpling, dick tight in his hands, masturbating furiously over me. His other hand is playing with my breast underneath my uniform’s top, twisting my left nipple painfully with his rough cold fingers. I flinch back trying to get my body to do as I command, trying to get myself to throw a punch or run and flee.
“I want you to be writhing under me, fully conscious when I bury my dick in your warm, tight cunt…” He moans out as he spits his fantasies at me, drool dribbling down his chin. He groaned again, the sound of it was grotesque in my ears. Then he comes all over my uniform without further warning. I cry out, twisting my body around, beginning to try and crawl away from him. His laugh is giddy and he sounds almost proud of what he’s doing to me. “Not now though, can’t have you now. She said to bring you to the drop off.” He whispers, sounding more and more like a mad man with every passing second.
On my arms and legs I couldn’t get a good look at him, but I can imagine the crazy expression well enough, making my heart speed up in my chest at the thought. I start to crawl faster towards the exit—now hallway across the room not nearly as close as I was before I passed out. My vision is clearing and in my fogged up brain it felt like I was close to victory.
Large hands grip my neck from the back and forces me to stretch my spine up, partially choking my windpipe as he controls my body. Then slams my face directly into the floor within a mini-second. Everything flashes red, white, then black and I’m gone into the recesses of my mind once again.
The first things I feel are the scrapes across my body clashing against canvas material. As I’m moving—or more like being moved, the material digs into all of my open gashes, making me writhe in pain. I groan, not able to stifle it.
“Shush, we’re almost there!” An out of breath voice, Dean, yells at me. There’s a faint light visible through the canvas bag and I try to scratch at the material, and that’s when I notice the zip-ties cuffing my hands. A bump a moment later and a rock digs into my back making me squeal in pain. I was being dragged in a sack by Dean to who knows where! I need to get out of here right now.
Struggling harder only has the zip-ties cut at my wrist, digging into my flesh causing me to bleed. Feeling like an idiot for injuring myself I stop struggling. I try to adjust my body in the bag where my head wouldn’t accidentally bump on a huge rock or something equally as bad. I don’t need to be kidnapped and have a concussion too.
“Stop moving so much!” He screams, sounding like he’s on the verge of a complete mental breakdown. I scream back trying to get as much air into my lungs as possible. He kicks me right in the stomach, the force of it taking my breath away. My thoughts go to the wind and I clutch my stomach in pain. “Shut the fuck up! God, bitch don’t need to get caught…” He groaned as if I was the one being the brat. As if he wasn’t fucking kidnapping me or something?!
The blood drips on my face from my torn up wrist and my body stills. The blood drops begin to float around me and off my skin, leaving it blemishless. Not questioning how or why the blood drops forming as one and turns abruptly sharp shimmering in the dim light. My hands twist in the air as if I naturally know what to do and the blood does as I command.
The blades made out of my own blood starts to cut at the bag, making an opening within the seams. Ripping at it with my cuffed hands I create a big enough gap to crawl out. Taking in a deep breath I throw my body halfway out of the bag, crawling out of it as swiftly as possible. Dean’s scream is visceral, guttural, and it sounded as if he was in pain before jumping on top of me.
“Stop struggling!” Dean complains grabbing for my hands, which were still connected with the zip-tie cuffs. His grip now so tight he was a second away from breaking my wrists.
Anger boils my blood, and with a burst of energy I didn't know I had the blood blades shoot off into Dean’s body with a squelchy sounding impact. Blood from many different abrasions my own ‘blades’ cause spurts out even more blood, and Dean’s body falls face first into the hard cold stone floor. With a whimper of pain he’s down for the count, just barely breathing from what I could see.
Instinctually not thinking about it, but feeling it's a gut move, I search his pockets. There in his coat pocket was a piece of paper that I can’t stop myself from unfolding to read. It stares boldly back at me with not much to offer.
Take her to the drop off location. You are rewarded with her body for whenever you choose if you do your job right.
Sincerely,
The plus sign was the only signage attached to the piece of paper, giving nothing else away. I sigh, grabbing the torch off the ground where Dean dropped it. I look around, trying to get my bearings. Taking one more glance at Dean’s barely breathing body I choose to move to the right, going down the mysteriously dark tight hallway. A path I’ve never come across before.
Leaving Dean’s slowly dying body behind I suck in another deep breath, for bravery, and move forward into the darkness.