Misfits

8.1 | the hands that take

❝maybe all one can do is hope to end up with the right regrets❞
ａｒｔｈｕｒ ｍｉｌｌｅｒ

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     ＥＶＥＮ before the invasion of Beta Island, even before my mother went missing and Emma's mayor tried to abduct her, I think we all already knew back then.

The Dauntley Academy was a poorly built dam waiting to burst. Beta was just the screw that got loose. An unplugged hole that let in the mould and the rot from the outside. Slowly eating at the dam's shaky structure until it led to a leak. And that leak led to a deluge, taking the lives of students and staff with it.

In the aftermath of the invasion, a lot changed. The image of the kind, caring rescuers from above didn't last long. Within 48 hours of the Headquarter Agents' arrival, each and every member of staff at the Beta Division of the DA was tracked down, fired and forced to reapply for their posts through several rounds of gruelling investigations. 'Where were you the week leading up to the invasion?' 'What was your reason for abandoning your post?' 'Were your loved ones truly in danger?' 'How come you're alive and well instead of lying drugged-up and paralysed in a hospital bed alongside Director Noble?'

It was an attempt to sniff out any more moles other than the big red obvious, fake-smiling one that already lay in a cell. It didn't do much of course — anyone who could have been a traitor wouldn't have dared to return. And so the absentees were put into two categories: dead or compromised.

Both meant the same thing to Headquarters anyway.

Of those who remained, the focus shifted to finding the reason behind the attack, and more importantly, the masterminds behind it all.

But people like Redmond have spent their lives harbouring all kinds of secrets. No incentive from Headquarters was going to change that overnight. Richard Masters seemed to be in the same boat, appearing to fear those that pulled the strings behind him more than those watching the puppet show in front.

At least, that was the case until today.

"Talk her out of it." A rough hand latches onto my wrist and I have to remind myself to stay cool and understand Cole is just stressed right now.

It wouldn't help to make him even more on edge. The last thing anyone would want is for us to start a squabble in the middle of a highly classified high-security penitentiary where the Agency hides away its collection of bad apples.

With a sigh and some struggle, I manage to pry Cole's fingers away from my wrist, saying, "Oh, believe me if I could, I would. I think it's an awful idea too. But you'd probably have a better chance getting through to her than me. Why don't you talk her out of it?"

"You don't think I've tried?" Cole replies. "Me telling her not to do something just makes her want to do it more."

"Then what can we do, Cole?" I press two fingers to my temple, massaging it. "This place gives me a migraine. And it's too late anyway. Leave it. Even if you can't trust Morgana, we should at least believe in Emma. I'm sure she'll be fine."

"It's not always as simple as 'leaving it', Cass," Cole says, agitation seeping into his tone. "You don't understand. Maybe Emma looks fine to you now, but you didn't see her that night. Especially after she..."

Cole's voice trails off. I cock my head to the side, curious.

"I don't even want to begin to think what might have happened if I hadn't found her," he continues. "And now—"