A Modern Myth

Chapter 3

The night is colder than usual, the sway of mist whisking from their breaths can be seen in the moonlight.

Travelling for hours, they finally make it to their destination.

Stepping out of the car, the two men dressed in black step out; crackle and crunch sound beneath their footsteps. Owls fluttered their wings, and the moon watched over them. It was silent, eerie and haunting out in these woods, where deer galloped, and grizzly bears roamed.

The scent of timber and damp leaves gives the old place, a very soothing vibe. The high beams on the car, cast a radiating light on the large wooden gate, attached to what looked like a prison wall. Standing at eight meters tall, yet it was overlaid with the wooden touch; giving it a more relaxed state. It didn't fool anyone who dared stepped near it.

One of the men held Nickolai and his crimson blanket close, keeping him warm in the frozen plains. While the other, leaned against the bonnet of the car, waiting for the gate to be released, to gain access.

He lights a cigarette, impatiently waiting until he hears the gate unclick, only to have the woman known only as 'The Governor' moving towards them and he's fast to pull all attention to her. Completely bathed in the light of the car, she glorifies the fact that all eyes are on her.

What made her so special? Why did they patiently wait for her in such chilling conditions?

She was the boss; the brains and the authority behind this entire structure. She struck fear on every single person below her, under her command. Obeyed and never disobeyed. She had the strongest and mightiest hold on everyone. She was the reason they were still breathing, still living. Even, still able to go home at night and sleep in their own bed, next to their significant other. At a price, of course.

With such a high pay, and no other choice. These men did everything she ordered, not once batting an eyelash or voicing their concerns. The last time such a thing happened after words were exchanged about what they all did behind these walls were spoken to his family; He was found days later, with his throat ripped out.

If a whisper, a word or a stutter was released about what went on, she'd find out. How is a mystery but she'd take it upon herself to make sure whoever did the deed is punished on her own terms, and that is why she pulled strings.

Even at this hour, she was prepared and dressed accordingly, her jet black thick hair slicked and tied tightly back into a bun. Her dark eyes reflecting the color of her hair and dark uniform.

"you'll be happy with this one" The man declared, holding Nickolai announces, he's proud of this one, and he knows she will be too. Wearing a smile of content, but as he moves forwards, he's soon discouraged by her lack of reaction. Turning her nose up with the grunt of a scoff escaping her nose.

She doesn't speak, standing there for a moment. Her dark eyes watched, before she moves in, and takes a closer look; her eyes scanning Nickolai and seeing his abnormally pointed ears, and tuff of red hair.

"An Elf?" She inquires; obviously baffled, as her eyes draw from the infant, and up to meet the man responsible for this captive, grimacing and scoffing – her face pale and stoic as she watched him. Her lips twitching, "you're right, I am very happy" she tells him, before turning to the other.

Holding out her hand, wearing dark leather gloves. She stands, with one hand behind her back. Waiting for him to give her something.

He looks at her, before handing her a piece of paper, before throwing his cigarette to the ground, stomping on it quickly. He moves away from her and awaits her confirmation.

Her dark eyes scan the paper, The announcement of the newborn. His full name, his parents' names and his birthdate. Taking note of only two of these lines of information, before she pinches the tip, and tears it in half and releasing it from her grasp. Letting the scarred pieces of paper to flutter and sway in the wind, flowing into the forest and soak beneath the small splatters of rain from above.

"Were any of you seen?" She bluntly asks, her voice quiet and strict. Not accepting any other answer besides yes, or no as she turns to watch them.

The man holding Nickolai shuffles slightly. He can feel the fear creeping through him with each heavy heartbeat that followed; she won't like this. Shaking in his boots, he clears his throat and shoots a look at his partner, who evidently ignores him. It was his own fault, no one else.

The silence between them was deafening and infuriating. "Did you two fail to hear my question?" She grunts, flexing her hands into tight fists and biting her bottom lip. The sharp clench of her jaw as her eyes watch them both, glaring at them before she steps forwards.

"Hand the boy over" She demands nodding, as she takes Nickolai in her arms, before handing him over to the other man, leaning against the car.

"I'll ask again; did anyone see you?" She repeats her question, this time she's slower, more stern and forceful. Standing nose to nose, not a single blink as she scans him.

He's quivering at this point; the woman could read you like a book. He began to sweat, and as his lips part to answer, he's shaking, "I-He was- "

Before he could even finish his last words, she retrieves her hidden pistol, and pulls the trigger – He didn't deserve a second chance – aiming and landing the bullet in between his eyes with a steady step backward. Dimming the last glimmer of light in his eyes, as he falls and flops to the ground. The loud, and spine-chilling gunfire echoes and rains through the woods, startling Nickolai. Leaving him restless, as he begins to wail and cry loudly. It wasn't long before he's hysterical and almost out of control, his soft skin becoming red as tears flood from his closed eyes.

"Take him to The Elders."

As ordered, and instructed. The last man standing swallows the evolving lump in his throat; blinking the image of his partner's untimely demise from his mind, and did as he was told.

Walking past the large wooden gate, with two guards securing it. He watches as the two doors to the institution, they called "The Compound" and walked inside. The name may be subtle, and simple but behind these walls, was an entirely different world. Trapped and secluded from the outside. Secrets and lies embedded within. An organization fueled on power and wealth, with no other motives or concerns.

Taking, roughly five minutes from the front of the base. Walking through the Quad, watching as he walked the path, separating each large building. Each side, with six buildings. Color coded with allocated symbols and names.

It was dead silent, and it always has him unsettled as he walks through the main quad, even with a few heavily armed men; keeping guard and watch. He hates going through there – he didn't feel safe, and he had the right to feel this way – he knew what went on behind these walls, down in the basements. Yet, he continued to work there, because he had no other choice – much like everyone else there, besides The Governor.

Reaching the nearest gray and colorless building, he steps inside. Rustling the remains of the rain drops from Nickolai's blanket, and moving inside. He sees the woman working there. Washing bed sheets, and blankets. Cleaning any mess on the floor, mopping and vacuuming. They weren't expecting another one so soon. Not after what happened to the last.

Hearing movement behind her, she quickly looks over her shoulder, to see one of the outsiders holding another newborn. He's wet, cold and hysterical.

"His name is Nickolai."

He states before handing the child over like he's a loaf of bread, for a neighbor. As fast and sudden as he's there, he's just as quick to get out of there.

Leaving her there to tend to the day-old child.

Taking a moment to herself, she holds him softly as she studies him; seeing those little features that had his parent's crazy about him. She sways him gently from side to side, while moving towards the kitchen, where several bottles of formula sat, ready to be heated.

While heating one up, she takes a more detailed look. Examining the blanket; an unusual color for a child's blanket, as she takes a closer look. She notices the Initials carefully sewn into the blanket, N.S. The thread used was a strong golden shine.

"I'll take care of you, then when you're six– you get to play with the big kids."