Risk and Rebel

15: NEVER A MORE INTERESTING CAR RIDE

After she told me Under was dead, she was silent. Neither of us spoke for upwards of fifteen minutes. I didn't ask where we were going, though I really, really wanted to.

Deep down, I knew she wouldn't be the one to break the silence. She would be perfectly content to stay like this, no matter my discomfort or confusion, until we arrived wherever we were going. I also had a feeling she knew I would not be okay with such a long lasting silence.

So I broke it.

"What does LASAR stand for?"

Her gaze flicked from the road to me, just long enough to arch a brow. She turned back toward the road before answering. "Lethal Assembly of Special Agents in Reconnaissance."

I blinked owlishly. "Isn't reconnaissance just militant information gathering? Why would you — um, we — be ... assassins?"

"We gather information, yes. But sometimes — a lot of the time — knowledge demands action. Hence the addition of the word lethal," she said with a wry smile.

I did my best to pretend I was taking this well, but she still side-eyed me in my quiet. It invoked a sigh from her.

"I forget you've been embedded with false morals," she muttered.

"What, with the ... the telepathic alterations?" I asked, speculation still heavy in my voice.

She merely hummed and nodded.

"What's the deal with that, anyway?" I asked, feeling a little disgruntled as I slid further down in my seat.

"Which part?" she asked calmly. "The fact that telepathy is real, or the complete reorganization of your mind?"

"Let's start with the last one," I sighed, scratching the back of my neck. "I have a feeling that explanation will take longer."

She shrugged again. "As I said, Under was good at what she did. She suppressed all of your legitimate memories and made up a fantasy world. Said fantasy was activated when we crossed city borders into Kingston."

"Apparently it doesn't work in reverse," I muttered. "Because my memory didn't change when we left Kingston." I gave her a wary look then. "Are we leaving New York entirely?"

"I haven't decided yet," she said calmly. "As I was saying; the fantasy was installed. But with you, there weren't any cracks— well, I shouldn't say there were none," she hummed, "maybe just too few for you to notice ... whereas my memory was apparently coming out via the stories that Mickey wrote."

"Your — er, her stories were all just memories?" I didn't know why I was incredulous. I guess I should've expected it.

She nodded. "I looked over a few of the writings before I destroyed them. They were memories from our real life."

I took a few moments of quiet to try and process through that. It was difficult to wrap my mind around, but not impossible. "Okay," I said slowly, "then why weren't my memories leaking out?"

Her smile was smug. "I actually think I have that figured out," she admitted, "which is good, because Under didn't leave any explanation for memory leaks in her letter. I think that your head's wrapped up tighter because she probably put extra subconscious walls in place to prevent the accidental use of your power." She gave me a quick look, a smirk on her lips. "Super strength."

I gaped at her, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. "Say again?"

She nodded calmly. "You have super strength. You knew I had telekinesis — I checked that excerpt she emailed you — but yeah, you've got super strength."