The thing in your heart (Lloyd x reader)

Chapter 10

You pound harshly on the metal door as this was your third time attempting to attract the attention of who was, supposedly, in the apartment. You lowered your fist to your waist and groaned out of frustration.

You took out the message Song had left you and sure enough, this was the right address as you were confident in your decoding and map-memorizing skills to find the place which could offer another finger that would point you in the right direction. The message only told you the time and place. Nothing about the person who was supposed to help you were mentioned aside from their code name, so you had no idea what kind of person you were up against which made you frustrated in a way.

Currently, this person was your only ticket to find your target, so if you couldn't fulfill whatever they were to ask of you, you don't know what you would do. As Song had already told you, no amount of blackmail on his shoulders would extend to his subordinates, leading you to have nothing to stand on. As much as this upcoming encounter could bring more uncertainties and unanswered questions, it was just another problem on your list of crap you have to deal with. To mention the most prominent one: Hunger.

You were hungry beyond the belief in spirits, gods, and deities. Hunger scared you so much that you would throw yourself off of a building had you not known it wouldn't end you. Seemingly nothing in this world can kill you because of your body and instincts. You could cut open an artery, but the wound would heal in a drop of a dime. You could jump in front of an incoming train and your body would move itself out of harm's way. You could even drink poison but your body would just throw it up or your liver would take care of it.

Whatever fucked up shit the scientists did to you or to make you, the instinct to stay alive and avoid immediate harm is somehow so much stronger than your mind can comprehend. Even though your mind says it wants to die so you wouldn't be a hindrance or a danger to other people, your body won't let you. You can't even starve yourself because if you do, your body switches to autopilot and takes care of your needs for you.

You sigh as you hung your head and you clench your fist.

'Just a few more hours, and I can eat.' You spoke to yourself, or specifically, the monster side of yourself. 'Just don't freak out.'

You raised your fist to again beat the ever-living shit out of the door when it suddenly opened, revealing a person who resembled closely Song. Well, a Song that hasn't taken proper care of his personal hygiene. The stranger's hair was unbrushed, oily, and pulled into a bun. Their shirt was two sizes too large, which had cheese puff dust on it, and to top it all off, they didn't seem to be wearing any sort of pants.

You didn't want to judge how people spend their free time or how they dress. Each to their own, ey? But when it assaults every sense you possess, from seeing all the filthiness to basically hearing moss grow in the apartment, you throw all guilt out the window. They had an enormous problem.

"What do you want?" They asked and you now noticed they had triple-layered eyebags. 'Ouch.' You snapped out of your thoughts.

"Do you happen to be OnePercent?" Like magic, realization flashed in their eyes and they even checked the calendar plastered on their front door for further confirmation. There was just an x with a time of 1 in the morning but seemingly it was enough.

"Come in and keep it down." They retreated into their dark abyss of a home and you followed, dodging all trash and clutter. The person sat at their desk which held an impressive amount of monitors and a CPU more capable than Jesus himself. You sat opposite of them on top of a box and made yourself comfortable as they began.

"Let's get the formalities out of the way and right down to business. My code name, as you already know, is OnePercent. My name comes from my track record of not finding what is sought after only 1% of the time. I'm also the person who searches and gathers intel for Song, who told me you needed my help. Cat, was it?"