Assassination 2136

Chapter 16: The Ties That Bind Us

I came to in a cold, white room. Glancing around, there wasn't much to see. Four stark white walls, with a silver steel table and chair opposite me. Looking down I saw I was sat in a metal chair.

I tried to stand up, yet fell back down swiftly. I jostled my hands, hearing the rattling of chains in return. I was handcuffed to the chair, my hands pinned behind my back.

My breathing became erratic, frantic. The room felt as if it was coming closer, the four walls closing in. They had found me. Found me in the room. Found out I knew their secret.

I dry retched as I remembered that room. The bodies. The crunching of bone in the grinder. That room was the protein room. The room that fed the MASH directly into the area that Dovima and I worked.

And Dovima....

I dry retched once more. The feeling of my abdomen contracting trying to wring out the last drops of liquid in my gut. But nothing came. I had already lost the contents of my stomach.

I was drawn away from my thoughts and gagging as I heard a single loud buzz, followed by the sound of a door clicking. The large metal door opened, and a short, petite woman walked in. She was dressed in a business pantsuit, and holding a black briefcase in her skinny little fingers.

She did not address me, rather sat opposite me. She flicked open the breifcase, pulling out various files and papers. Not once glancing up to regard me.

"Who are you?" I whispered hesitantly.

"Who I am is none of your business," she replied harshly, never once glancing up. Under normal circumstances, I would have been offended. Yet these were not normal circumstances. So I sat still, and kept my mouth shut.

"But who you are, now that is the real question," she said with a sinister smirk. She produced a red file, flicking through.

"Saggitaria, no surname. Surrendered to the Les Australis orphanage when she was 2 years old. Never adopted," she said flatly. It made me uncomfortable how level headed she was retelling my youth. Making me sound like a typical tragedy. 

"Discharged at 15, lived on the streets for five years," not once during her spiel did she look up at me, merely peered down at the paperwork in front of her. As if I was a number, a statistic rather than a person.

"Became addicted to methamphetamines while homeless. Also found.... Alternative work," she paused before finishing her sentence. I should have known the government would be aware of my activity. But tracking my addiction? Those sick fucks.

"Shall I continue?" She asked, finally looking me in the eyes as she pulled her dainty glasses off of her face, placing them on the table in front of her. I wore no emotion on my face, a familiar numb feeling overtaking my body. I shook my head.

"I know my past. I was right fucking there," I spat at her. When she had entered the room, we were on neutral terms. However it was becoming abundantly clear to me that she considered me the equivalent of trash.

"Oh yes, I know. But I hope you know we were there with you," she smiled, baring her glistening white teeth. I rolled my eyes. Her voice made me very uncomfortable. It was slightly too high pitch, scratching at my ear drums.

"I know you guys gave me that contract," I said pointedly. The woman stood up, gently picking up two small discs from the briefcase in front of her. They looked almost like flavour sachets.

"Mmm yes. But it wasn't you that figured it out. It was Dovima. Shame what happened to her," she said, smiling slightly. My brows furrowed in anger, teeth bared. She calmly walked over the me, peeling back the plastic from the discs and placing one on each side of my forehead.