So, first of all, I know I discontinued my first story for various reasons, and I'm really sorry! My explanations are posted in the thread if anyone is interested. For this new one, I have written out the entirety of Part I, so I guarantee you at the very least that much will be finished. I promise I'll do my very best to finish this one entirely because a) my exams are over with and my life is not nearly as busy any more and b) I like this concept a lot more. So, without further ado, I present:

be warned, it might seem a little disturbing to some people. Enjoy!

Dusk had fallen in West Oakshire, and an unusual silence filled the smoggy air. A police siren broke the night as an axe would split wood. The old woman who was crossing the road jumped at the sudden noise, then reached down to comfort the whimpering child in her arms. Her footsteps were slightly hurried as she opened the gate of one of the largest mansions in the city and moved up the front path. She mounted the porch steps with what looked like trepidation, as though she was expecting someone or something to jump out at her. Her hand shook slightly as she reached up to ring the doorbell, but whether it was from nerves or simple old age was impossible to tell. The door swung slowly open to reveal a smiling woman and an intricately built, but still warm looking home.
"So kind of you to come, Mrs. Wells."
"Yes, well, I'm glad I found a family that would be willing to do this."
The younger woman smiled gently. It was a sweet expression, but the older woman saw something in those cold blue eyes that she didn't like a bit.
"Come in and make yourself comfortable. Can I offer you something to drink?"
"No, no, that's all right."

Miranda Wells followed the woman through an entrance hall and into an intimidating but somehow cozy living area. Miranda imitated the woman and sat on one of the two couches that were available. There was another person in the room already; a man who was bent over lighting a fire. Noticing the direction of Miranda's gaze, the young woman smiled slightly.
"I suppose we haven't properly introduced ourselves. My name is Dr. Cassandra Belson, and this is my husband, Dr. Steven Belson."
The man turned around and gave Miranda a nod of greeting before crossing the room to put an arm around his wife.
"You know why you're here, don't you Mrs. Wells?"
The old woman looked from him to his wife and back again. Suddenly, a powerful feeling of fear swept over her, worse than the uneasiness she had been experiencing before. There was something very wrong here, she just couldn't put her finger on it. But she didn't have a choice. She had to find someone to take the child. And these people had money. They were well respected scientists, and everyone in Oakshire trusted them implicitly. That was why she had agreed to come in the first place.
"Yes, yes I do."
Cassandra Belson smiled slightly, looking at the toddler in Miranda's arms.
"We know you don't want the government involved in this affair. We would love to have young Linnea come live with us, even unofficially."
A sudden reserve of courage rose in Miranda and she covered the child's head protectively.
"I still want to know you'll take care of her first."
"Of course. We would be happy to conduct an interview, just as they do in the agencies."

Miranda was still suspicious, but she nodded.
"All right, why did you contact me? Why do you want an unofficial child?"
The couple looked at eachother. Something very much like love passed between them and Miranda felt herself soften slightly despite her reservations. The man spoke this time. Steven's voice was measured and steady, giving a calming effect to the people around him.
"We have been married for almost five years now, and about a year ago, we decided we were ready to have a child. After a while of trying, we still weren't successful, so we went to see a doctor. And we found out that we would never be able to have children together. We thought about surrogacy, but the idea of breeding a child as though they were merely something in a test tube didn't appeal to us."
Cassandra cut in, looking anguished.
"Imagine our position. We're both scientists. Well respected. But there's too much fact in our lives and not enough variation. I gather that the house is not entirely what you expected."
Miranda grudgingly agreed. She had expected an ultra-modern condo, to be honest. Dr. Belson continued to talk.
"When we read about your son's death in the newspaper, we were deeply saddened by it. He was a colleague of mine, you know."
Miranda nodded. She had known that actually, it had been another reason she had agreed to come.
"But we also knew that he had a daughter who would need a home now. Cassandra didn't want to call you; she said you had a right to keep your granddaughter, but I insisted we just make sure you wanted her."
Miranda looked down at the child nestled in her arms.
"I do want her. I want her with all my heart, but I can't take care of her."
"But we can, Mrs. Wells. That's why we called you."

The child opened her eyes and looked at the couple across from her. Both she and the old woman were silent for a few seconds. Then, slowly, Miranda placed the child on the floor beside the couch.
"I'll miss you, little one."
________________________________________________________________
The minute the old woman had left, Dr. Belson took off her long wig and replaced her makeup. That was the last time she would ever have to act motherly. This was the beginning of an experiment that would make her career a success.

The child spent the night in a small crib in the attic. The following morning, both Cassandra and Steven rose at five o clock to examine their new possession. Both of them thought of the child that way. A possession. And, for the next ten years or so, a tool. Cassandra smiled slightly as she picked the toddler up off of the floor. Holding her up to the light, she examined Linnea from head to toe.
"Yes, you'll do just fine, I think. Perfectly healthy, good genes, and no government involvement to get in the way."
The child stared back at her with wide gray eyes. She did not cry, but her lower lip trembled as the strange woman took her outside, into a garage, and down a set of stairs.

Cassandra and Steven Belson kept the location of their laboratory a secret for many reasons, foremost among them being that it would ruin their reputation is anyone found out about some of the things they were doing. But to Cassandra in particular, scientific progress was more important than any moral value one might have. The lab was large and modern with whitewashed walls and fluorescent lighting. Various instruments littered the rooms, but everything was well organized and, more importantly, clean. Various experiments were kept in test tubes and glass shelves and a large fish tank adorned the wall, with various types of fish that Steven was in the process of genetically modifying. He was already downstairs when Cassandra entered carrying the child.
"She's in the suit now, so it should protect her from permanent damage."
"You have all the stem cells you need?"
"Of course. We've been collecting them for years."
"Let's begin then."

The child seemed to gain some sense of what was going on by the time Cassandra started to lower her into the water. She cried out and tried to touch the woman's face, but the shock of frigid water slowed down her reflexes and knocked the breath out of her. Cassandra watched the monitor carefully as she dropped Linnea into the tub.
"Everything looks fine. Her heat rate picked up of course, but her body temperature will soon be low enough."
"You're sure it won't hurt her?"
Cassandra smirked a little.
"Not permanently."

They both looked down at the toddler, who was now totally submerged in the water. Her gray eyes were wide and fearful and her small body curled itself into a ball to try and keep out the cold that had entered her bones.
"And so it begins, little one. This will be the greatest nature versus nurture experiment that has ever taken place. The only one we've ever conducted without a hypothesis."
It would be a very long twelve years for Linnea. She wouldn't remember any of her ordeals as a child, but they would scar her forever.

The story is also available here if anyone's interested in seeing it via blog. No offense MTS, but it looks much better on the blog than it does here. EDIT: I don't know how that picture got there. sorry... :P

This was absolutely amazing! I can't wait wait for more!!

Glad to see that you are writing again. This story is off to an exciting start :D

So here is Chapter two! Blog ---> here

__________________________________________________________________________
Sunlight streamed in through the window of the small bedroom and onto the pillow where a teenage girl was resting her head. Linnea lay on her bed, staring up at the blank white ceiling and trying to ignore her pounding headache. Her migraines had increased in frequency lately, just in time for the beginning of school. Which she was dreading incidentally. School was a hellish place for her and always had been, though that probably had something to do with how often she switched schools. Her parents were world famous scientists and had very high standards for the kind of education their daughter should receive. Last year, it had been a private catholic school, the year before that it had been a boarding school on the other side of the city. If there was one thing she had learned from all of it, it was that kids never liked newcomers, especially intelligent ones.

A click in the hallway alerted her that someone was coming and she stood swiftly, not wanting her parents to know about her headache. It wasn't that they weren't kind about it, it was just that...she didn't tell them anything if she couldn't help it. They were very analytical people, and as such, they treated her like a colleague or a peer or even sometimes and interesting specimen. There was no real love, no feeling, nothing that made her feel as though she belonged with them. But then, Linnea had never felt she belonged anywhere. She had gotten used to the feeling. Her parents often worried that she wasn't well adjusted, but Linnea knew her perspective wasn't the cliche. It was simply a result of having been moved around so much, having been displaced. Nothing was permanent for her.
The door opened slowly and Linnea noticed her mother's red nails gripping the door frame. She had been hoping for her father. Linnea loved both of her parents, but Cassandra and she had never gotten on very well. There were too many personality conflicts. The most recent fight had been over schools. Linnea glared sulkily as the door swung open.
"What? Have you come to announce another move?"
She wasn't angry, not really, but she half hoped that her feelings would come into the equation this time. She wasn't particularly happy at the school she was at now, but at least it was something familiar.

Cassandra smiled. She had had another surgery, Linnea realized with a start. Her mother seemed determined to keep her face as young as possible.She had plastic surgery at least once a month. Her eyes were enlarged, her lips were plumped, her cheekbones were enhanced, and her brow was lifted. All the surgery combined with her blunt haircut had always unnerved Linnea slightly. She had grown up with Cassandra's extreme features, so she was quite used to them, but she was still a little frightened after each surgery.
"Another brow lift?"
Her mother smiled a little
"Yes to both questions."
Linnea's face hardened.
"Right. Where am I going now?"
She folded her arms across her chest and gave her mother a level stare. Cassandra sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Come sit, sweety. Come on."
Linnea held her ground for about another second, then sighed and crawled over to sit next to her mother.
"I just hate all the moving. I mean, I don't fit in anywhere."
"And you think that will change if we keep you in the school you have now?"
Linnea digested that. The truth was, she would never fit in anywhere, no matter whether she was new or not. She was silent for a few seconds and her mother gave her a little squeeze.
"You're a bright kid, Lin. People don't like bright kids, especially teachers. You knew more about physics than any of your science teachers last year. Do you think you got the education you needed?"
"No."
"Then can you blame us? We just want what's best for you, kiddo."
She checked her watch and sighed.
"I have to be at the lab. Trust me, this one will be better."
The door had shut behind her before Linnea realized that they had had virtually the same conversation last year. She reached for the small white bottle next to her bed and popped an advil into her mouth before lying back down on the bed.

The next day, she found herself standing in front of the Oakshire Academy. It was her first public school since kindergarten. The building itself was entirely unremarkable, but she still felt a familiar wave of intimidation as she looked around the schoolyard. She had the cliques down to a science by now. The jocks were on the basketball court shooting baskets, the preps were standing on the edge of the court watching, the tough girls were sitting under an alcove near the bleachers passing around a flask, the ordinaries were milling around in small groups, and there were one or two losers standing around trying quite clearly to disappear. The latter was the demographic Linnea usually slipped into after a couple of days. This school wasn't going to be any different, she could already tell. With a sigh of resignation, she followed her shadow through the front doors of Oakshire Academy.

The hallways were almost completely empty as Linnea made her way to her classroom. The bell hadn't rung yet and most students were still in the front yard. She preferred to already be in the classroom when the crowds began to form; it was less difficult that way. The teacher was sitting at her desk at the front of the classroom. Linnea approached her; wading through the maze of desks in order to ask where she should sit. The woman was young, about twenty five or thirty, with brown hair and twinkling blue eyes. She smiled at Linnea and reached for the attendance.
"Hi, you must be the new student. I'm your homeroom teacher, Mrs. Scriven."
"Um. It's nice to meet you."
It wasn't really. Mrs. Scriven was the kind of woman who tried to hard, the kind of teacher that was convinced she knew you inside and out after a year of teaching you. Linnea forced a half smile onto her face.
"You can take a seat wherever you like, I don't assign seats until I have an idea of the classroom dynamic."
This was the worst news Linnea had heard all day. This meant that she would have to choose a seat herself, something that could make her a target right away. If the teacher assigned seats, nobody could blame her for being there, but choosing the wrong seat was something she could and would be blamed for. Turning, she surveyed her options much like a mouse would survey a house full of traps.

The left side of the classroom was empty; a bad sign. If she sat there, she would be noticed right away just by default. The right side contained a few students who had chosen to show up early. Sitting at the first desk was one of the losers. Marked by his suit, striped tie, glasses, and first row seat, he was one of the most obvious traps she could fall into. Standing just behind him was a prep. She was gesturing animatedly and chatting on a cell phone in a loud, nasal voice. Linnea didn't spend much time looking at her; if she was caught staring at one of the untouchables, she was dead. At the very back of the classroom sat one of the tough girls. She was reading a book, always a good sign. She probably had friends, and was therefore not a bad person to be associated with, but she was also not likely to talk much, which was another plus.

Linnea made her way to the back of the classroom and sat down beside her. The girl gave no indication of noticing her, which was just fine. Linnea didn't want to be noticed. The bell rang with a long, shrill note that pounded in her ears. With some dread, Linnea began to experience the beginnings of another headache as the teacher started the lesson. This class was science, and Mrs. Scriven wasted no time getting into the lesson. She began with an introduction that was, as Linnea had guessed, ridiculously kind and almost annoying. The beginning of her lecture on physics wasn't as disappointing as Linnea had thought it would be, but she still found herself drifting into a daydream. The rest of the class didn't seem to be paying attention either, so she felt no guilt whatsoever in drifting off. The girl next to her snapped her book shut.
"I'm Misery, what's your name?"
Linnea gave a start and glanced at the teacher, who pretended not to notice the outbreak of whispering in the classroom. Is her name really Misery?
"Linnea."
There was silence as the two stared at each other. Misery had tanned skin and dark, piercing eyes. Her brown hair was cut in a mohawk and her eyes were outlined with thick black shadow. Linnea had never seen anyone quite like her. Searching for something to say, she nodded towards the book on the desk.
"Anna Karenina?"
She nodded.
"One of my favorites."
"Me too."
"You've read it?"
"Of course."
"Wow. Most of the numskulls here haven't even read a fucking Dickens, let alone Tolstoy."
Linnea smiled a little and glanced around the classroom.
"Nice to meet you."
Misery smiled as the bell rang.
"I'll talk to you later, I'm going to go get high now."

Linnea chose to forgo the crowded cafeteria, and, since it was a nice day, chose to eat on a bench next to the bleachers. She sighed slightly. So far, this school hadn't been as bad as the others. Perhaps it was because she had known what to expect, or maybe it was the fact that she already had a sort of friend. Misery wasn't exactly the kind of person Linnea's parents encouraged association with, but she was nice and educated which was an apparent rarity in Oakshire. She had finished her lunch and was wondering what to do with herself when two boys came around the corner of the school. One of them was dribbling a basketball, and the other was lagging a little behind. She heard snippets of their conversation.
"C'mon, what did the kid do to you?"
"He just existed, you know what I mean?"
"No."
"Lighten up! It's not like I punched him or anything. A little shoving never hurt anybody."
"It marked him a target, James. Somebody to pick on. Now everybody else is going to be beating him up."
He lowered his voice so Linnea could no longer eavesdrop. She examined a penny on the ground and managed to catch the odd word.
"Mom....wouldn't want....not....funeral..."
"Shut up about mom, okay? She's...."
"Yeah, well.....don't.....just stop."
They stopped talking abruptly as the blond one spotted Linnea.

"Hey look! A new face"
The brown haired one looked slightly uncomfortable, but he followed the other over to the bench where Linnea sat. The blond one sat down next to her grinning. He was attractive in a jocky sort of way, with brown eyes and lightly tanned skin, but there was something unnerving about his face and his mannerisms. He was vaguely...predatory.
"Allow me and my brother to welcome you to our school. I'm James, and this is Charlie."
Linnea looked from one to the other.
"Um...hi."
"So, gorgeous, how did you come to this humble establishment?"
He started to put an arm around her shoulders. She reacted instinctively, inching away and putting her hands up to warn him off. It wasn't so much that she minded being hit on, he was just slightly creepy.
"Oh, come on, loosen up. I won't bite."
But the look in his eyes as he said it chilled her, sending a cold shiver up and down her spine.
"I uh...I kind of have a boyfriend."
"So? Doesn't mean you can't have some fun, right?"
Linnea was definitely scared now. She glanced around, wondering how stupid it would be to run.

"Leave her alone."
Charlie glared at his brother.
"Why, Charlie, do you want her?"
"I'm just dead tired of you bothering everyone. Go find your girlfriend why don't you?"
James rolled his eyes, but he seemed to have some level of respect for his brother because he stood and wandered off towards the basketball court. Charlie glanced at her. He looked a lot like James, but his face lacked the predatorial feeling and his eyes were a lighter brown.
"Sorry about him. He doesn't really know where to stop."
Linnea's headache had tripled in strength over the past hour or so, causing a desire to be left alone.
"That's okay."
Her head gave a nasty throb and she winced slightly, putting her fingers to her temples. This was getting bad. The pain was increasing quickly, until she thought that someone had surely taken an axe to her face. Charlie gave her an odd look.
"You all right?"
Linnea couldn't speak any longer, her vision was too blurry.
"I..."

The pain was blinding. She was scared now, wishing she had told her parents when the migraines had started instead of just ignoring them. She felt Charlie sit beside her on the bench.
"Hey, what's going on? Do I need to call an ambulance or something?"
She felt a hand on her shoulder, but couldn't focus on anything except trying not to pass out. Then, as fast as it had come, the pain ebbed, leaving her trembling and slightly nauseous. Charlie was looking at her worriedly as she raised her head.
"I'm fine...I just had....That was weird."
He was still staring at her.
"Um. You should probably go home now, or to a hospital or something."
"No, no hospital. I'm fine now. It was just a headache."
"Just a headache that made you look like you were being tortured...riiiight."
She glanced at him.
"Yeah, I guess I should go home."
"Do you want me to walk you? I don't want you passing out in the street or something."
"No, I'm okay. Thanks though."

She made it about three feet, then stopped and swayed as a dizziness washed over her. Charlie stood up.
"All right that's it, I'm walking you home. Where do you live?"
"No. I'm fine. Seriously."
She wasn't sure why she didn't want him anywhere near her house, but maybe it had something to do with how famous her parents were....for being massive nerds. It wasn't that THEY were known as nerds; they were widely respected in and out of the scientific community. It was just that if people knew they were Linnea's parents, she would be marked as a nerd by default. And from what she had seen of Charlie, he was relatively popular. He ignored her protests though, and followed her like a well trained dog as she headed for Main Street.

They didn't speak as they followed the familiar route to Linnea's house. She saw surprise on his face as they crossed over the west side; the upper class district. He whistled when he saw her house.
"Wow. And I was worried about you."
She laughed a little and mounted the porch steps.
"It's not my fault."
After ringing the doorbell, she turned to Charlie. Perhaps she could get him to leave before her parents showed up. It would take them some time to get out of their safety gear: they were always in the lab around this time on weekdays.
"Thanks for walking me home...You should probably get back to school now."
"Oh, yeah."
He hesitated.
"Your parents are home, right?"
"Yes. They always take a while to answer."
As she was speaking the door swung open. Oh no.

In ten minutes, Cassandra and Steven had settled their daughter on the sofa. Charlie stood awkwardly in the doorway. With a meaningful look from Cassandra, Steven turned to him.
"Thank you for bringing her home. She gets these headaches sometimes. It's quite worrying."
Charlie nodded. It was always weird talking to parents, especially since he didn't really know Linnea.
"No problem."
Steven glanced at Cassandra, who nodded. She disappeared into the kitchen as Steven invited Charlie in for coffee.

Charlie followed Steven into a large dining room.
"So, young man, are you happy at Oakshire?"
"Um, yeah, I guess. I mean the English curriculum kind of sucks, but."
"Why do you say that?"
"Well, they haven't even touched on Shakespeare yet, which I would understand if they had good modern literature instead, but they really don't."
"I see. And what do you consider good modern literature?"
"Well I really liked A Clockwork Orange. I guess that's not really modern any more, but I also enjoyed The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime...I suppose that's directed to a younger demographic. Then there's The Red Queen and The Plot Against America."
"Wow. I'm impressed; you're very well red for someone your age."
Charlie smiled, finding himself relaxing slightly under the older man's benign gaze. Of course, he couldn't have known that it wasn't benign in the slightest.
"Thank you sir. I've always been the brains in my family."

At that moment, Cassandra walked in, placing a tray of coffee on the table.
"I assume you don't drink coffee, Charlie, so I made you some hot chocolate."
She smiled briefly at her husband and exited the room.
"Thanks so much."
He raised the cup to his lips, wondering how long he was expected to stay and chat with these people. Kind as they were, the woman's oddly perfect face gave him the creeps and he had to get back to school.

Charlie was about to excuse himself when, without warning, a dizzy feeling swept over him. He had barely enough time to register the strange taste in his mouth before everything went black. Steven watched his head hit the table and gave a satisfied sigh.
"Cassandra! You're sure he won't remember?"
"Positive. I used number five point three, just to make sure."
"Good. What do we do with him."
He heard the clack of Cassandra's heels in the hallway and stood to greet her as she entered the room.
"I'm afraid we have to give him back. There's no time for strange disappearances. Not when the project is at this stage."
Steven nodded.
"All right. Should we leave him in a night club? Or the street?"
Cassandra smiled.
"Oh, I think a club. He's a big boy, he'll find his way home...even with a hangover."
She smirked.
"Then we'll deal with the girl."

Half an hour later, Charlie had been deposited near a club about ten minutes away from the school and Steven and Cassandra were downstairs in their lab. Linnea lay on an operating table, with lights trained on her and her body pumped with drugs. Cassandra watched, smiling slightly, as Steven set up the monitors.
"All right, now what are we fixing?"
"I think number two is haywiring. That's what's causing the headaches."
"I told you we put it in too soon."
"No we didn't. If we had waited any longer, her brain would have matured too much. We needed to do it when we did. We just didn't space the surgeries well enough."
"True as that may be, we're taking too many risks. We don't want her dead, remember?"
Cassandra laughed.
"Oh, calm down. She's fine. A little pain never killed anyone. Are we going to start repairs or not?"

Linnea lay still, eyelids fluttering weakly as her mother lovingly fingered her surgical instruments.
"Are you ready, sweetheart?"
Steven stepped back. Operations were Cassandra's specialty, he was responsible for the technology.
"She's ready. Her vitals are fine, heart rate and blood pressure normal."
Cassandra glanced at the monitors, inserted an IV, and reached for the first knife. Neither of them remembered the crucial component they had forgotten.

This is... REALLY good. Please write more, it's so interesting!

thank you, i'm glad you like it! working on chapter three as we speak, actually. the screenshots are proving to be a little tricky.

This is really good. Very engaging plot and it's going at a great pace. Keep it up, I'm looking forward to seeing more.

Hey,

I've rea dmany, many stories on MTS, but I habven't come across one as amazing and ass engaging as this one! ABSOLUTELY love it, really. YOur talent and ability to write is amazing and I know talent when I see it. Good job, and keep writing! :D

This made my day. thanks so much!

Sorry for the delay in updates! Enjoy!
also, read it on the blog if you like...
http://seriousims.blogspot.com/p/ch...three-lies.html

The room was small and impersonal, and looked more like a hospital room than anything else, though it was located in one of the many suburban houses of West Oakshire. The gray carpeted floors and dull walls created a depressing atmosphere that was all too familiar to the old woman lying in the bed. Though the bookshelf and cheerful curtains tried to make the room seem homey and comfortable, it was no longer a familiar haven to her. The nurse stood quietly, letting her sleep as she checked the vital signs printed on a monitor. Whatever it indicated caused her lips to press together in concern; she had grown quite fond of this particular patient. She turned away from the bed to rearrange the floral curtains and straighten the chairs that stood on the side wall.


When the nurse turned around again to refill the IV, the old woman was awake and had fixed her with a milky gaze that was somehow quite piercing at the same time.
"I don't have much time now, do I?"
The nurse sighed and pulled up a chair next to the bed.
"You don't know that yet, Miranda."
Miranda nodded sagely. Mary was her favorite nurse, though they were all lovely. She lay back against the pillows wearily, looking at the ceiling rather than the pink uniform.
"I'm old Mary, not stupid. I see that look. You'll miss me, won't you?"
Mary bit her lip, looking at the weathered face with a mixture of compassion and amusement.
"I never could hide anything from you. No, you don't have much time now. Though the drugs should keep it painless."
Miranda sighed deeply and shut her eyes.
"I'm not ready yet. Of course, you've heard that hundreds of times, I'm sure."
Mary patted the wrinkled hand and reached over to readjust the IV.
"Never from someone so close."

She stood, checking her watch as she did so.
"I have another appointment."
Miranda sat up suddenly and alarmingly, causing the bed to creak and stretching the tube that was still embedded in her arm.
"Not yet!"
Her voice was sharp and her eyes were more piercing than Mary had ever seen them. She reached out, alarmed.
"For heaven's sake, Miranda, lie down!"
The old woman didn't pay any attention, however. The lines in her face seemed to deepen as her voice took on a pleading quality.
"I need you to help me."
"What do you think I've been doing?"
Mary's eyes were anxious as she sat back down slowly, trying to calm the old woman.
"I need you to bring him."
"Bring who?"
Mary tried to make her voice soothing as she pushed the old woman down onto the pillows.
"Him. He owes me a favor, I have to find her. He can find her for me."
"All right...all right. I'll get in touch with him, can you give me his name?"

The next day, Mary kept her promise despite her reservations. The man had a dangerous look in his eyes, one that sent chills up and down her spine. Nonetheless, she brought him. Something about the old woman wrenched at her heart.
"Miranda? Your...uh...visitor is here."
Miranda heard the trepidation in Mary's voice and shot her a grateful glance. She knew how strange this must be for the young nurse. She was nervous herself, but she had to do this before she went.
"Thank you Mary. Perhaps you could...give us some privacy?"
"Oh um...of course."
She left the room, gently shutting the door behind her.

Mike strode over to the old woman who was perched in a wheelchair next to her bed. She looked up at him without a trace of fear, even though his face held a dangerous expression.
"What do you want?"
"You owe me a favor, Mike."
He winced slightly. He had hoped that the old woman had forgotten, or died, but she appeared to be alive. Barely, but she was alive.
"Right what do you want me to do?"
She handed over a photograph.
"Find her."

The sun was just setting over the hills of North Oakshire, casting an orangey light over the quiet streets. Linnea had never been in this area of the city before, but Charlie had insisted. They stood together just outside of his house talking. He had that teasing light in his eyes that was becoming quite familiar to Linnea as she got to know him better. She had been at school for a month now, and things were easier than she remembered them being in her entire life.
"Come on, that wasn't so bad was it?"
"Ugh."
"You looked beautiful."
She smiled and hit his arm playfully.
"You're just trying to distract me. That was the most irritating thing ever!"
Charlie had convinced her to go with him to the school dance. It had been some stupid bet with his brother. She had agreed reluctantly. Only for Charlie would she brave the throngs of popular girls grinding in a crowded gymnasium.
"You owe me a lot for that."
"Fine, fine, I owe you. Satisfied?"
"Do you know how many rumors are going to circulate now?"
"Why would I care? I'm a guy!"
"Yes, well, I'm not."
He rolled his eyes.
"You don't care about rumors either, don't try to pretend you do."
He was right there. Linnea was used to highschool kids. They were all the same to her by now. Partially due to her upbringing, Linnea was a rather elitest teenager.

Neither of them noticed the man standing just behind a nearby tree. He watched them with the eyes of a hawk, gun held firmly in his left hand. He couldn't fathom why the old woman wanted the girl, but it wasn't his place to question why. He listened to their stupid conversation for a few more minutes, hand tightening on the familiar shape of his revolver. The girl rolled her eyes.
"Fine, fine, I don't care. But you still owe me."
"I promise, when I collect the money from James, you'll get some."
She raised an eyebrow.
"I don't want money."
"So how the hell am I supposed to repay my debt?"
"Oh, I'll think of something."
Charlie sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets.
"I didn't like it any more than you did you know."
He got tired of waiting then. This was beginning to bore him. He just wanted to get the job done.

She felt the gun before she saw who was holding it; a cold metal barrel poking into the back of her head. She looked at Charlie. His eyes were wide and fearful as he took in whoever was behind her. Linnea winced as she felt a rough grip on her upper arm.
"What do you want? We don't have any money, we're just kids!"
Her voice came out a lot braver than she was actually feeling at the moment. The part of her brain that wasn't screaming was wondering what on earth a mugger was doing in the middle of uptown Oakshire.
"I don't want your money."
The voice was low, raspy, and vaguely amused. Linnea stiffened at the suppressed laughter that laced her attacker's tone.
"Well then what the hell do you want?"
"Listen sweetheart, I'm not the one who set this up. HEY!"
Linnea felt a release in the pressure on her head, and realized that the gun was now aimed at Charlie, who had just reached for the cell phone in his back pocket.
"That's enough. I'm gonna ask you to come with me. And you, kid, you keep your mouth shut. I don't care if you call the police, but wait till we're outta sight or she gets a bullet in her somewhere."

Linnea allowed him to guide her down the street. After all, she didn't have any alternatives. They walked for perhaps ten minutes in silence, then the man pulled his gun out again. Shoving it into the small of her back, he forced her up a gravel driveway to a nondescript, white paneled house. It looked exactly like every other house on the block, which confused Linnea who had been expecting some empty warehouse, or perhaps just a white van. In the brief instant while he shoved her through the front door, she took in a small room that looked quite a lot like a hospital. She stumbled into the room, heels leaving dirt smudges on the white carpet.
"I brought her. Just like you said. Debt paid?"
Linnea couldn't see who he was talking to; the only occupant of the room was a frail looking old woman sitting in a wheelchair. It took her completely by surprise when said old woman replied in a voice that definitely did not match her appearance.
"Yes, your debt is paid. I hope I never see you again. Did you hurt her?"
"No."
And with that, the pressure in Linnea's back vanished and she straightened up, looking at the old woman with puzzlement and fear.

The woman indicated a seat on one side of the room. She herself was in a wheelchair, though it looked like it was costing her a lot of effort merely to be sitting. Linnea sat in the proffered chair, back straight and shoulders tense. After all she had just been kidnapped. She found herself wondering whether Charlie had called the police yet.
"What do you want? Ransom?"
It seemed the most likely explanation, considering the fact that she had wealthy parents. The old woman laughed.
"Good heavens no child!"
"Then what DO you want?"
She was more confused than ever at that point.The woman merely stared at her with milky gray eyes. Linnea noticed, with some surprise, that they were the exact same color of her own. She shifted slightly in her seat, uncomfortable under the woman's level gaze.
"Are you happy, child?"
"Not at the moment, no! You hired someone to kidnap me!"
"I mean in life. Are your parents treating you well?"
"Of course they are, they're my parents! YOU'RE the one that kidnapped me!"
The woman shook her head wearily.
"You don't understand, child. Of course you don't. I blame myself for that..."

Linnea had had enough. She wasn't a rude person, but she was past her limit now. Her eyes hardened and she stood, intending to leave. A gnarled hand closed around her wrist.
"No! I have to know you're all right. I have to know I didn't give you to monsters, as I have thought for so long."
A flash of fear came into Linnea's eyes.
"Gave me...?"
"Yes. I am your grandmother dear. And I gave you away."
Linnea could not process this. Her eyes widened, lips parted as she stared at the old woman...her grandmother. With the eyes so like hers, and the-
"No."
The old woman looked at the girl.
"Yes, dear. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, but it's true."
"No."
Linnea said it with a new conviction. This couldn't be true. She wouldn't accept it.
"You're lying! Or senile, I don't care which. My parents. raised me! I look like my mother, everyone says so, you crazy old woman!"
In three long strides, Linnea was at the door. She didn't even glance backwards at the old woman, but ran as far as she could run, feet pounding the cold concrete sidewalk, until her breath came in gasps. She reached her house with a relief that was almost painful. The first thing she did was call Charlie and tell him not to warn the police. To her relief, he hadn't yet. The next thing she did was retreat to her bedroom and lose herself in a book, determined to forget the whole strange episode.


They stood together in the public reference library, surveying the rows and rows of books. Charlie looked nervously sideways at Linnea. She seemed...different. On edge. She had asked him to come with her and help her find something today, but had refused to tell him what it was. Now he stood awkwardly as her eyes skimmed rapidly over the titles.
"Remind me what we're looking for?"
She glanced at him, then went back to her search.
"My name."
"Your...."
"My name. This is the section where the birth records are. I was born here, so I should be here somewhere. Under Belson..."
She trailed off, pressing her lips together. At first, Linnea had been unwilling to accept the strange lady's statements. But lately she had been having odd flashes of memories. Something about a white room. Bright lights. And her parents...She couldn't dwell on that now. She had to find it. But time passed, and they searched in silence for a half hour, until Charlie said tentatively,
"Nea, I don't think it's here."
"It has to be."
Her voice was sharp, like broken glass. It made him look at her curiously. Her tight jaw, her eyes burning feverishly in her face, her lips pressed together in a thin line.
"What...what's going on?"

She swung around to face him, and he was caught off guard by the anger in her face.
"It's not there, is it? It's not."
He shook his head, nonplussed by her sudden fury. She had seemed fine at school all day.
"Can you back up for a second? I still don't get why we're even here."
"The old woman."
"Sorry?"
"The old woman! She said she was my grandmother. She said...she gave me away."
Charlie's eyes widened at that. She saw an expression on his face that would have been funny if she hadn't been so upset.
"That's...weird. More than weird. Is that where that jerk took you?"
She nodded tightly.
"And she was telling the truth wasn't she? I didn't want to believe it, but...my name isn't here. It's not here! I don't belong to them! Not legally, otherwise there would be SOMETHING."
He frowned slightly.
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know."

Instead of entering her house, Linnea took a left turn at her driveway and opened the door to the garage. A smell of must and mold met her nose, a smell that just barely masked the sharp scent of formaldehyde. She descended a modern staircase that she knew led to her parents' lab. She had never been allowed there before, but she no longer cared.

Cassandra was sitting at one of the four computers against the side wall. Linnea felt her rage grow as she set eyes on the woman. How could she be so calm? Just sitting there, living a lie.
"I know."
Cassandra did not look up.
"Know what darling? Could this wait perhaps? You know you're not allowed in the lab."
Linnea moved closer, stamping her foot as though she were about five years old.
"I know where you got me."
Cassandra's fingers stopped moving on the keys. Abruptly, she stood, towering over Linnea.
"How much do you know?"
The answer was of course, not a lot, but she would never admit that. Her bluff was the most foolish mistake she made that night.
"Everything."
"Are you sure."
"Yes. I've met with Miranda."

"Steven!"
They only had to wait about a second before he was there, holding a large needle. The kind that was used for injections.
"What...what are you doing?"
Her blood ran cold as she watched him prepare the liquid, which hissed and turned a lethal green color. She started to back away, terrified now. A hand closed on her wrist, red nails digging into her skin.
"I'm afraid you can't leave now...daughter."
The last word was whispered in her ear, and it was the last thing she heard after she felt the prick of a needle in her calf.

Linnea awoke to the smell of chemicals and the feeling of a wooden bed beneath her body. She didn't open her eyes, just allowed the tears to stream out from beneath closed lids as she listened to the sound of her world crashing down around her.

Wait, so is this the last chapter you're making? Aww... I wonder what the end was going to be like.

A-M-A-Z-I-N-G...........as usual... I don't even need to comment to tell you that! Your skill is proficient, your ability to narrate, profound. Would you read my sims story that's in progress right now, 'Wife To A Prince Of Darkness,' and comment and tell me how you like it? Here's the link: http://www.modthesims.info/article.php?t=442851

Thanks,

P.S: DYING for your next update!!!! :D,


The Observant Lefty.

@Lavaster: No, it's definitely not the last one! what made you think that? There's a list of Chapters, both complete and incomplete on the blog if you want to check them out.
@Observantlefty: Thanks so much for your kind words. Off to check your story now.

This is one of the best sims stories I've read so far! I'm surprised that you haven't gotten loads of feedback on this because you totally deserve it. Please, carry on

Aw, thank you! That's really flattering, especially since I just started.

So here it is! Hope you all like it, and keep commenting, I love it when people do that.
Blog: http://seriousims.blogspot.com/p/ch...ur-forever.html



She had been in the cell for a day when Cassandra came. Linnea still hadn't managed to process what was happening. Her tears were dry, her eyes were blank, and the lump in her throat had become a permanent part of her being. She was standing, staring at the sterile white floor when Cassandra stopped on the other side of the bars. Linnea didn't look at her face; she feared that if she looked too much at the woman who had raised, her, she would lose whatever sanity still flickered in her mind.
Cassandra stood for a minute, studying the girl. Her eyes were red rimmed, her cheeks bore the marks of mascara streaked tears, and her hair was tied in a loose braid with pieces sticking out and falling into her eyes. Good. They needed her broken.
"It's time for a surgery."
Linnea almost looked up at this, but she managed to keep her eyes on the ground, though they filled again.
"Why?"
Cassandra laughed. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard for Linnea; she barely managed to keep from covering her ears and screwing up her eyes like a small child. Instead, she shuddered and clenched her hands into fists. The gesture did not go unnoticed by Cassandra, but she chose to ignore it.
"You didn't think the surgeries would stop just because you knew about them did you? No, but this time we won't erase the memories. You will remember every time we add another component."


Linnea's breath was coming in shallow gasps now. For a brief instant, she wished she had never found out what they were doing to her. Ignorance truly was bliss sometimes.
Linnea averted her eyes, though her spine stiffened as she heard the rasp of a key in the lock. She didn't know what Cassandra meant by component, but now she did know what all the odd looking devices were for. Cassandra pushed open the door and started towards Linnea, who backed against the wall. Her eyes moved rapidly from side to side as though she was looking for an escape. For the first time, in that instant, she took in everything in the lab.


What she saw made her blood run cold.


*awks arm*
The drugs took effect very quickly, and Linnea found herself grateful for that as the brightness of the lab dimmed and her vision shifted in and out of focus. Vaguely, she was aware of Cassandra hooking her up to an IV and prepping her for surgery, but the larger part of her brain was merely thankful for a chance to sleep.She sank into unconsciousness, no longer caring what Cassandra was doing to her mind or body, only aware of the comforting darkness that lapped at the edges of her mind.


The surgery was completed in record time, and soon, Cassandra could see a change. It was a small change, but it was a change nonetheless. Linnea, for her part didn't notice anything new. She stayed in her cell, staring blankly at the floor and forcing her exhausted brain into motion every morning. She didn't do anything except think these days. Think about what they were doing and when they would stop. She caught snippets of conversation that passed between Cassandra and Steven, and she guessed some things, but the surgeries remained an unexplained mystery. There was never anything wrong with her except for the headaches, which she now knew were a by-product of the surgeries. There was no reason for them to be operating on her unless they would get something out of it. But Linnea couldn't figure out what that something was.
Steven was always kinder than Cassandra these days. He felt pity for her, and often brought her food and drink more often than was necessary. Perhaps he had grown fond of her in his time pretending to be her father. She asked him one day why he was doing this, and he had given her a mournful look through the bars of her cage.
"Science is more important than anything, darling. Knowledge is above all human life. I'm sorry you have to give yourself to this cause, but it is indeed a brilliant cause."
It was then that Linnea realized he was also crazy. She had hoped perhaps that Cassandra was forcing him, that he was still the loving father she had known. Once that delusion faded from her mind, she became more withdrawn than ever, no longer responding to the food that was brought to her. Eventually, Cassandra began to feed her intravenously while she was asleep.

The days blended together in an indistinguishable blur, and Linnea soon began to forget what the outside world looked like, and to forget a time when she had ever been happy. Then, he came. The same man that had kidnapped her that time. Linnea had been sitting in the corner, against the wall, but when she saw the familiar black clothing, piercing eyes, and beautifully crafted gun, she sat up as though she had been electrocuted. Her hands balled into fists and she stared at him with eyes that burned feverishly in their now deep sockets. He had been holding a whispered conversation with Steven, but when he caught sight of Linnea, his eyes widened a fraction and his face showed, then settled back into his habitual blank mask.
He pointed at her with one lazy wave of the gun.
"Who's the girl?"
His voice was now loud enough for her to hear, though she tried very hard to pretend she wasn't listening. Steven looked at her briefly, then back at the man.
"Just an experiment we're running. It's proving to be very interesting."
"Ah. Now about those weapons. My client is getting impatient. Have you finished modifying them?"
Steven's eyes lit up in excitement.
"Yes, yes we have. Let me get them for you."


The moment she heard the sharp sound of the glass door slamming shut, Linnea flung herself against the bars at the man. He looked surprised at her vehemence as she whispered furiously.
"You have to get me out of here."
"Get you out? Come now. I don't just do jobs. You have to give me payment."
His eyes performed a familiar run up and down her body. She ignored his wandering eyes and pressed against the bars so hard that she felt them digging into her skin.
"You owe it to Miranda."
"I don't owe anything to Miranda any more. My debt to her is paid."
Linnea looked at him desperately. She knew he could get her out, probably easily. She couldn't let this opportunity go; if she stayed in here she knew she would either lose her mind or try to kill herself, neither of which was an enjoyable scenario.
"Well you owed Miranda...what if I could owe you?"
He laughed long and hard at that. She glanced anxiously at the door. If her father came back now...
"Please. You don't know what I can do."
Half a smirk remained on his face as he regarded her.
"And just what can you do, Sparrow?"
She ignored the new epitaph and wracked her brains.
"My parents have given me some powers or something. I don't know what they are or how they work, but I promise you, the minute I figure it out, I'll use them for whatever you say."
It was a pretty good offer, especially considering how famed her father was for weaponry. She didn't consider the consequences her promise would have, she was only thinking about getting out of this hellish place.


After a moment's thought, he nodded, a gleam in his eye at the thought of having a weapon nobody could match. In a few seconds, he had the lock open. She saw the bolt loosen, though he left the door shut. Linnea understood why of course. She would have to wait until her parents had gone to work at the university.
"Thank you."
"I'll wait out front. The minute you get out, you run all right."
She heard the sound of Steven's footsteps on the stairs and backed into her corner again, lowering her head so that nobody would notice the smile on her face.
"And remember" He spoke in a whisper, moving a a safe distance from her cell. "I'll make sure you keep your promise."


The escape was almost too easy. Linnea's stomach churned until she feared she would be sick and her hands trembled as she opened the door and slipped out of her cage. The air hitting her face was almost enough to knock her over as she exited the old fashioned garage and ran towards the street. Nobody was out and, aside from the breeze, Oakshire was still and quiet. As promised, Mike was waiting for her in a spotless black car. Once she got in, his foot sank onto the gas pedal and he sped towards the center of town. Linnea was surprised to note the gun in his hand even as he drove.
"Won't somebody notice?"
His smile was dangerous.
"Only if they have a death wish. Now, where to?"
"Where...to?"
Linnea hadn't even considered and aftermath. She had been so focused on getting out, but now the realization that she had no money, no food, no clothes, and nowhere to go closed on her.
"Yeah, don't you have any friends?"
"Friends...?"
A vague memory came to her, a memory of before all this had happened.
"Charlie!"
He raised an eyebrow.
"That kid you were with when I kidnapped you?"
"Yes. Yes, he'll let me stay with him, I'm sure of it."
She sat up in her seat and gave him the address. Charlie would know what to do. He always did."


Mike pulled up in front of the house, then got out of the car.
"I'll be over there, I need a drink."
He indicated a nearby bar. Linnea nodded, wondering in the back of her mind why didn't just leave. She hesitated in front of the small house. She'd only ever been here once before. What if she wasn't welcome? Linnea had been out of the real world for so long, she had almost forgotten about social cues. She was distracted from her thoughts by an arm around her shoulders. She turned rapidly to find herself face to face with James. He smelled drunk.
"Hey babe, what brings you here...all messy?"
She backed away, disgust written on her face.
"Keep your hands off me. I was looking for Charlie."
"Forget about Ch-charlie, kid. He just shtarted dating that cheerleader chick. And he actually caresh about relationshhhhips."
Linnea rolled her eyes.
"I don't want to DATE him, I need his help."
"I can help ya babe, whatever you need."


Suddenly, his arms were around her and his hand was on her thigh. She flinched and shoved his chest in a futile attempt to get away. It didn't work, he just kissed her roughly. She tasted blood in her mouth and smelled his foul breath. All of the sudden, she was more than just disgusted, she was enraged. Everything that had happened to her came streaming through.
"I won't let an idiot like you take advantage of me too."
Her knee went to his groin. He grunted in pain and tightened his hold on her. She struggled violently, scratching his face and biting down hard on his lower lip, but nothing worked. Linnea didn't know what else to do, but she began to feel something inside of her. Something full of energy. Not the good kind of energy, the kind of energy given off by heat and light. Her head started pounding and her chest felt hot. She could no longer speak, but somehow she knew that this thing had to be subdued. There was something wrong, something very wrong. James reached for her breast. It was the worst thing he could possibly have done. When his hand touched her chest, electricity streamed from the contact. Linnea felt it, raw and dangerous, wreaking havoc on her body as well as his. For James, it proved fatal.
She watched his body crumple, watched the light go out of his eyes, and tried to process what had just happened. He fell to the ground, just as Charlie came running around the corner. He must have heard her yells.
"Nea! What's going on? Did James....oh my god."
James made a rasping noise that proved to be his last breath.


Charlie looked from his brother to Linnea with a look of pure horror on his face.
"What the hell did you do to him? What did you DO?"
She couldn't speak. She merely stared at him with eyes that were vast and held a sorrow that would have broken his heart if she hadn't just killed his brother.
"Tell me you didn't."
His voice was cracked and blank, like the wall of an old building.
"Tell me you didn't kill him, Nea, please."
Linnea found her tongue, after a long pause.
"I...I don't know what happened. He was going to rape me...I had to..."
"You didn't have to kill him! I was coming...he wouldn't have...James wouldn't have gone all the way. Oh my god. Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god."
Linnea wanted to put her arms around him, to do SOMETHING, but her limbs were still tingly and unresponsive. Charlie put his head in his hands.
"You...I thought we were friends. You KILLED MY BROTHER! I can never forgive you. To me, you...you'll be gone forever."
He pulled out his cell phone and began dialing 911. Linnea looked from his now murderous, tear streaked face to the body on the ground and panicked. She didn't know that her survival instinct had been heightened through genetic modification. She didn't know that her parents had given her that ability on purpose. And she didn't know that what she was about to do would cause several more deaths. She ran.


Forever.

Oh, cuz I read something at the top of the first chapter that I misunderstood

O_O wow...great story. I haven't been able to comment before. xD Your stories always leave me speechless. Love this update!

@Lavaster: Oh, yes, that was my apology for the first story.
@LovethMia: Thanks! wow, that's so nice!

PS: I just noticed the image size, guys, I'm SO sorry. It takes away from the story, doesn't it? Off to fix now...

Love the stories! Did not see that coming. Keep on writing!
I have to say my favorite character is Cassandra. I just love how horrible she is. She looks like she would be evil too.
Can't wait to read the next chapter!

I'm glad you like it! I kinda like Cassandra too...though she is seriously twisted. She's kinda fun to play in-game as well: she makes really weird faces.

That first night was the hardest. Mike had agreed to hide her until the whole thing blew over. He had friends in high places, apparently. He had taken her back to his apartment and left her in a small plain bedroom, telling her to relax. She thought she had seen a new respect in those cold black eyes. She hadn't slept, instead choosing to drift in and out of nightmarish daydreams as she thought about what she had done. It hadn't been intentional, but she had still taken a human life. What bothered her even more than that, if possible, was the fact that she had killed Charlie's brother. And he would never look at her the same way ever again. If of course she ever saw him again.
But that was the last night she allowed herself to wallow. Her life had collapsed, and some part of her knew that she would have to build a new one from the ashes. She wouldn't be able to do that if she spent all her time wallowing in dismal introspection.
So she didn't. After all, she owed Mike a great deal. She started her training the day after she moved in. Mike was, simply put, a paid assassin. He didn't like to use such a simple word to describe it, but that was what he did for a living. And Linnea became his assistant very quickly.


Her job was to get dressed up and go out to bars with him, acting as his sister. They didn't look anything alike, but men usually ignored that once their eyes had performed the familiar flick up and down her body. Her first "real" job happened on Sunday night, about a week after she had finished carving out a new identity with some assistance from Mike. He took her to a bar downtown. The large buildings and flashing lights were a new experience for Linnea, but she hid her confusion and made sure her gaze was steady as she mounted the steps leading up to the front of the building. Linnea was seventeen, not old enough to even enter bars like this, let alone drink there. Mike had easily obtained a fake ID for her however, and she immediately took a seat at the bar and ordered a Purple Haze. As she had been instructed, she remained silent and sipped her drink, letting Mike do all the talking. He took a seat next to her and rapped his knuckles on the counter.
"Hey! You staring at my sister?"

The bartender ignored him, fixing Linnea with a level stare. She glanced at Mike, who nodded imperceptibly.With his assent, she lowered her glass and smiled slightly, lowering her eyelids in the way she knew worked. Lowered eyes and a slight smile meant modest acknowledgement of a guy's stare, and also gave the impression that she was off-limits. They always wanted what they couldn't have. Mike feigned protectiveness.
"Go dance, Raine."
Raine was Linnea's middle name. Even her fake parents weren't aware of that. Miranda had told her during that first strange visit. How things had changed. Linnea held back a smile as she remembered how terrified she had been of Mike. Now, she recognized her cue and slid off the stool, letting her skirt slip up and reveal more of her thigh as she did so. Drink in hand, she headed over to the crowded dance floor. A pleasant heat had crept over her, blurring her vision slightly and giving her a feeling of abandon she had certainly never felt before. Somebody offered her another drink and she accepted it happily as she slipped into the throng of dancing bodies. The music was soft and ambient, but the crowd surged around her with an energy that was quite different. As Linnea began to dance, she felt both Mike's and the bartender's eyes on her. Suddenly mindful of her task, she handed the drink over to some random person in the crowd. Mike had warned her to stay relatively sober.


Even with his warning in mind, her vision had begun to blur by the time she saw her next cue. Though she could see him still over at the bar, she could no longer hear what they were saying. She was expecting this, so when she saw Mike stand up and smash his fists on the bar, she slipped out of the throng and pulled herself up on the counter. Her instructions were to act completely drunk, which she found surprisingly easy. Swaying back and forth to the music, she heard various exclamations, including one from the bartender, who came over and looked up at her.
"Hey. Ahem. Miss, you're going to have to get down now."
Linnea looked at Mike who grinned briefly and flashed a thumbs up. She glimpsed the hilt of a knife in his hand and her gut suddenly dropped. Before, she had never fully realized what it was she was doing. Now she realized. She was facilitating murder. You owe him. You owe him everything you have. That thought steeled her as she jumped down from the bar. I don't want to remember this.


He carried her out of the bar a half hour later after it was done and she had passed out. This little beauty was turning out to be invaluable. He couldn't believe he had almost decided to kill her now. She was the most useful rescue he'd made in a long time, and well worth the trouble he was going to. He smiled as he dumped her in the back of his car and sped away.


The next morning, she awoke with a splitting headache and a sick feeling in her stomach. She didn't remember anything about the night before, and she had a feeling she didn't want to. Rubbing her eyes, she stumbled to the bathroom and took in the newly familiar sight of the sparkling black tiled floors and pristine appliances. As she splashed cold water on her face, the nausea increased until she had to sprint for the toilet. I guess this is what it's like to be hungover.


She found the will to stumble back into her bedroom and put some clothes on, and made her way to the living room. Mike was already up and wordlessly offered her a cup of coffee, which she accepted gratefully. The warm smell distracted her somewhat from her pounding headache.
"Do you have any asprin?"
He tossed her a bottle, which she caught and popped two white pills into her mouth. She washed them down with coffee and sat down in an empty armchair by the window. Mike gave her a sideways glance and sat on the sofa.
"How you feeling, kiddo?"
"Like absolute shit."
He winced and reached for the television remote.
"I don't blame you. You took quite a few shots after I killed him."
Linnea gazed blindly at the wall.
"Yeah well. I wanted to forget."
He reached over and shook her knee gently.
"The first time is always hard."
She bent over and hid her face in her hands, pulling at her hair with stiff fingers.
"It wasn't the first time, remember?"
"Oh yeah."
He forgot the news and appraised her, assessing what was turning into a surprisingly beautiful face. She had grown a great deal since he'd rescued her from that cell. Again, he marveled at what a good investment he'd made.
"If it helps, you were great."
"Really?"
She smiled slightly. It had been surprisingly fun to be the lure. It gave her a feeling of...power. She'd never had power before in her life. He looked her up and down once more.
"I think you're ready for real training."
Her eyes suddenly sharpened with trepidation, but also, surprisingly, excitement.


Mike was never one to waste time, so that evening, once Linnea's hangover had abated slightly, they drove down to a deserted beach on the east side of Oakshire. Nobody wanted to go to the beach in the dead of winter so they were guaranteed relative privacy. Linnea had already been taking martial arts lessons at Mike's insistence, but he had refused to teach her himself until now. She faced him warily, looking at his muscular frame and searching for weaknesses. She could find none.
"Now before we start, kiddo, I want to clarify something. Your most useful defense is that power of yours. I'm just teaching you a little extra, okay?"
Linnea had a retort to this, but she bit her lip and nodded. Even when she'd been living with him for months, Mike sparked a flash of fear in her. Those eyes were the eyes of a predator. He shifted into a ready stance.
"All right. To start, we'll have a little...diagnostic. A test. Okay?"
She nodded.
"I'm going to try and land a blow. All you have to do is block me."
Linnea settled into a position that mimicked his, her adrenaline kicking in, though she knew he wouldn't hurt her.She avoided the first blow by sidestepping it. His fist went whistling past her face, and she had to fight back a giggle. This just felt so much like one of those stupid action movies that she found it amusing. He raised an eyebrow at her smiling face and aimed a snap kick at her stomach. Remembering her training, Linnea grabbed his outstretched foot with one hand and attempted to catch him off-balance. Instead, he swung his leg upward and out of her grip, wrenching her wrist. She winced and jumped backwards to avoid another punch. For another fifteen minutes she blocked and parried his blows until he finally landed a kick to her kneecap, sending her sprawling on the sand.
"Nicely done. I think you're ready."


She crouched on the sidewalk, feeling the dirty asphalt beneath her hands. Two weeks of training, and Mike had said she was ready to start repaying her debt. Linnea wasn't entirely sure she was ready to start killing people yet, but she knew what Mike did, and she had had a pretty good idea of what her promise meant when she had made it. Her eyes sparkled more than average in the darkness and her hands trembled against the pavement. Mike was standing behind the building.
"Listen, Sparrow. This guy has a knife. Be careful."
Linnea nodded numbly. She wasn't entirely sure why this man was being assassinated, but Mike always had a reason. She had to trust him on this. He wouldn't have assigned her someone beyond her capabilities. She didn't have much time to prepare before footsteps echoed in the silent alley, making her sit up as though she had been electrocuted.
"Good luck."
Mike's whisper was barely audible, but the footsteps faltered slightly before picking up again. Linnea settled into a ready crouch, freeing her hands.


She waited patiently as he came closer and closer, pressing against the cement base of the building and hoping with every ounce of strength she had that he wouldn't notice her before she could tackle him. Her wish came true. He walked right by without looking either to the left or the right, allowing Linnea to pounce on him from behind, holding one of his arms behind his back and placing her other hand on his pulsing jugular vein. Now was the time to tap into that strange power she had discovered. He struggled, but her strength did not fail. Even with him trapped, her eyes widened in barely controlled panic as she realized something.
She didn't know how.
She didn't know HOW to tap into whatever Cassandra had put into her. As she stood for a few tense seconds she realized that she felt cold steel against her legs. He had managed to draw a knife from his back pocket with his left hand. Her panic increased. If she couldn't kill him, he would kill her. Suddenly, Linnea was furious with both Mike and herself for overlooking this obvious important part of the plan. Her hands tightened into fists. Come on, come on. She felt him struggling further and she automatically tightened her grip, but not before he brought his arm up and stabbed at her face. Thankful that he couldn't see her, Linnea winced as the knife went whistling past her left ear. Her pulse quickened and tears pricked her eyes. Just as she began to despair, she felt a familiar electricity begin somewhere in her chest. Without thinking about it, she cupped her hand around the sparks that were suddenly flaring from her fingertips. She placed her hand on his shoulder.
His scream shattered the silence like broken glass.


Linnea watched him crumple with a strange fascination, watched him fall to the ground at her feet. Before she had time to process the fact that she had just killed intentionally, she felt a heat from her chest. The electricity hadn't gone away. And then there wasn't just heat, there was pain, mind numbing pain that stripped her of her awareness and cause red lights to explode behind her eyes. She arched her back and forced a scream from her constricted throat. Her nerves were surely on fire, burning her alive. She was going to die. Nobody could survive this pain. She was grateful for the blackness gathering at the edge of her senses, even though she knew what it meant. Anything was good if it meant an escape from the pain. Mike came around the corner of the building just in time to see her body slump to the ground next to her victim.
********


She awoke in her familiar bed back at the apartment with a gnawing in her stomach and a pounding in her head. She made it to the living room before she stopped and swayed, putting one hand to her head. Mike was sitting in front of the television as usual. He glanced at her when he heard her staggering footsteps, but there was no pity in his eyes.
"I gave up two jobs to babysit you, Sparrow. You'd better work damn hard to make up for that."
"What happened?"
Her voice cracked, worn from lack of use. Everything felt strange and blurry, and her limbs were tingling as though they were asleep. Mike took a drag on his cigarette.
"You tell me. After you shocked him -nice job on that by the way, it was impressive- you started screaming like a hurricane. And...glowing."
She sat weakly on the edge of the couch and began to laugh. She couldn't help it; it was all to absurd. After her fit had subsided, she looked at Mike again.
"Glowing?"
He looked fleetingly troubled.
"Well, sending out sparks and yeah...glowing."
She stared.
"You're serious."
He nodded, not taking his eyes off of the TV.
"Well all I know is that that was the worst pain I've ever felt. I don't think I can do that again, Mike."


His face suddenly hostile, he stood up and faced her directly.
"Yeah well, you're going to. You owe me kiddo. And I don't let ANYONE get away without payment."
She looked at him desperately.
"Look, we don't know what this is doing to me! For all you know, it could kill me. It came pretty damn close just then."


Mike knew the truth in this, but it did nothing to change his mind. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out a revolver and tossed it to Linnea, who caught it clumsily.
"Then go find out what it does to you and get it fixed."
Linnea knew what Mike wanted her to do, and she wasn't pleased.Flipping the gun around, she took a ready stance and pointed it at Mike.
"It would be much simpler to kill you."
His laugh was chilling.
"Do that and you'll have a thousand people after your blood in Oakshire alone."
She didn't move. Her mind was in chaos; she wasn't thinking clearly. All she knew was that he intended to force her to continue torturing herself and that she wasn't going to survive it. He spread his arms.
"Go ahead, if you're going to. If not, I have business to attend to."
She glared at him, then lowered the gun and tucked it into her back pocket.
"Fine. I'll be back tomorrow."


Tracking down Cassandra was relatively easy; Linnea knew where she worked. The lab was downtown in one of the many buildings on the University campus. It was broad daylight when Linnea pulled out the gun. She no longer cared who saw her. All of her being was focused on confronting the woman she had sworn never to see again. Just the sight of her plastic face sent a tingle of fear down Linnea's spine. Cassandra looked surprised to see her.
"What do you want?"
She took a step toward Linnea, intending to subdue her unruly daughter.
"Don't move another inch."
Linnea pointed the gun directly between Cassandra's eyes.
"I want the truth. And I intend to get it."

AMAZING, awestruck, BRILLIANT; (AS USUAL)..keep up the good work! You ahve real talent for writing....

The way you tell stories is phenomenal. Job well done. :D

@Observantlefty: aw thanks! your comments always make me happy.
@DigitalSympathies: o.O phenomenal? wow, thanks so much!