Operation 007 (SpyxFamily)

Chapter Eleven

Anya covered her ears from the screams that seemed more and more frequent of late.

They kept her up into the night, not sure if she should be glad to be woken from nightmares or not. The wails sometimes just as bad.

She pulled her pillow over her head, though it didn't do much.

Anya didn't want to hear these anymore. It hurt her heart and dug into memories of when that was her. Before the scientists turned her into a telepath.

Anya didn't know what they were doing, but it was always different. They had countless experiments going on, forever searching for what worked. What was more effective.

None of the three espers got their abilities the same way for that reason.

She didn't know where they were, the director having sent them on missions so often, they weren't here, or on a long-standing job.

They were older than her, she knew that. The first having taken the longest out of the trio to develop their powers.

The second, slightly quicker. Then Anya, the youngest.

She held the pillow tighter, pulled the blankets in further. She was so tired. Her body ached, a soreness lingering in her muscles from the dose a couple weeks ago.

They held taut, in a reaction to the screaming, as if she could protect herself from them.

Then a lapse in the cries, a sudden quiet. An abrupt silence leaving her chilled. She could almost hear them still, hanging in the air. An echo that couldn't seem to die.

Anya hesitantly lifted the pillow, awaiting something more. Tense muscles anticipating worse things. There were always worse things.

She pulled it back into place when another rang through the halls.

This one, raw and wracked with pain, straining at their voice. It was guttural and piercing. Full and rasping. A yelling scream that tore every bit of sound from his throat. The kind that sent Anya clawing at her ears, praying for it to stop.

It echoed off the halls, through her door, filling every corner, haunting and dark, inducing anxiety.

It was all she heard for the next two minutes.

Then as if with a knife, was sharply cut off, that echo clinging to the walls.

Left eerily still.

There was no more.

He was probably dead.

Anya couldn't bring herself to move, her pillow staying where it was.

———————

Anya refused to cooperate as Newsie and Fairaway commenced the 'check-up'.

Every few weeks, especially after an injection, they liked to make sure everything was stable. Working. Not failing. That the shot they gave her was doing it's job. And not killing her at the same time.

Anya screamed and screamed, annoying them to no end, but it didn't change anything. Doctor Newsie took samples to analyze, Anya shouting obscenities through her tears and anger. They covered the pricks of blood with bandages, moving onto x-rays. Then brain activity.

"How are the receptor barriers working?" Fairaway asked Anya who stayed resolutely quiet. Her throat sore from screaming.

Fairaway turned from the readings to give her her a look. "Do I have to take them off and check?" She sighed.

"THEY'RE FINE!" She yelled at the doctor making her blink in surprise at the sudden outburst.

Anya hated when they took them off. Her head rang and clanked. Loud and confusing. Noises ambushing her left and right.