E L E C T R A|COMPLETED|

Chapter Five~ The Letter

¡WARNING: UNEDITED!
~Braden~

"How? HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET THE P-87? Do you know what happenes to the ones injected with any weaker strain of P-88? You just signed your damn death certificate, " she fumed and I slowly stood from the floor. "You will end up just like all the rest," she stated coldly and with un-normal speed ran to my window and jumped out into the darkness.
I hurried to the window with my aching head, but she was no where in sight. What the actual fuck just happened?
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~Electra~

I slide into the passenger side of the black and red Lamborghini Aventador and growled under my breath. Bullseye knew better than to talk to me while I was angry so he instead sped off down the street. All of the pain and suffering that had happened because of P-88 and they were still trying to use the weak strand to evolve the human species.
All it did was kill hundreds of soldiers and those poor children who were tested on all those years ago. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat remembering the needles and the beatings. Of all the people who were injected, only a small handful bonded with the P-87. Of those people only one lives on there was only one living survivor left.
I wouldn't call it living. I was breathing and had a heartbeat, but I had lost all emotion of humanity and became something else. Something not so human.
I watched through the window as lamp lights on the streets passed by in hazy glows and the dark and eerily lit buildings seemed to mold into one dark mass. The further into the city we went the taller and brighter the buildings became. Soon the blooming lights of the city and neighborhoods receded and was replaced with the dark side of the city...the bad side of the city...my side of the city.
Sometime later, a towering building gated by ten feet of solid iron stood tall and menacing and looked over the part of the city. It's well spaced windows gleamed darkly and held the secrets that lay beyond the black-tinted glass. The loud sound of churning wheels and gears grinding came from the retracting gate.
The long U- shaped driveway stretched on as the gate retreated and revealed the property. It was a mixture of pavement, well groomed trees, and entricately detailed sculptures.
One of the security hurried over the the passenger-side when Bullseye pulled the car to a stop in front of the dark archway and opened the door for me. "Bullseye, call Quinton and tell him I will not be having dinner tonight. I don't want to be disturbed under any circumstance for the next fifteen hours," I ordered and disappeared into the building.
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My dirt stained hands pull forcefully against the heavy door with every muscle I had in my weak arms and I only managed to open the small closet a mere six inches. A gaunt, ghostly pale face peeked out with fearful brown eyes that washed over with relief when she saw it was only me.
"Serenity," I whisper softly as not to wake Mistress or her workers,"I've brought you some bread and water." I hand her half a loaf of stale bread that I stole from the kitchen's waste bin and a tin cup of water and she hungrily stuffed the bread in her mouth while guzzling the water.
"You shouldn't have come," Serenity whispers,"if Mistress catches you you're as good as dead."
"She won't kill me. I'm the quickest worker she has," I say with a sly smile. She smiles weakly, but then her eyes grow wide with fear. It's when sharp fingernails dig into my shoulder that I know I'm about to get it. Mistress.
She spins me around roughly and glares at me with her beady black eyes. "What do you think you are doing?!" She yells at me causing me to flinch back, but her piercing fingernails keep me in place. "Trying to get your little friend out of the closet I see," she sneers and brings her wrinkling face close to mine.
"Girls who do bad things are bad girls and bad girls get punished," she says with a gruesome smile and flings me into the hands of one of the guards. "Keep this one in the closet for another day, no food or water. As for the troublemaker," she grins wickedly showing her grey and decaying teeth,"twenty lashings."
Serenity began to whimper and my eyes grew wide when the man who had hold of me began to drag me away down the dim hallway. "No, let me go!" I shouted and thrashed in his hold which consequently made him tighten his painful grip.
Mistress yanked the closet door closed once again leaving Serenity all alone in the darkness. "Punish her accordingly," Mistress said dryly then turned on her heels and left down the dark hallway. The guard begins to drag me away and I begin screaming and pleading as loud as my voice would allow me.
It was not my first lashing, but twenty lashings were much worse than just five or eight. "No n-no, please. PLEASE DON'T," I cried out when he dragged me into the cement walled room. He tossed me carelessly into the ground and I whimpered as he bound my hands to a metal post in the center of the room.
He picked up a whip with a metal tip and struck at my back. The thin flannel shirt I wore was instantly cut open revealing the old scars and the ones that had barely healed. My cries of pain and anguish echoed down the halls as the whip tore into my flesh and my crimson blood ran down the floors of that diabolical room leaking into the drainage system. Dripping deep down into the pipes and mingling with the settling blood of the other children and of those before us that did not survive.
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~Braden~

A hand slammed down onto my desk and I shot up and out of my recent sleeping state. "What the hell Darby?" I growled out and rubbed my tired eyes. After Electra left I didn't get any sleep. I thought that if I did she would just crawl into my window and slit my throat. I'm going to need to put a lock and bolt on my windows. Maybe two or three.
"You came in an hour late," he said simply like that justified slamming his hand onto my desk in my office. "I overslept, " I answered and sipped my already cold coffee. "You had any symptoms lately, felt any different, anything out of the ordinary?" He shot out questions like his mouth was a pistol until I raised my hands to shun away his voice. I then massaged my temples and closed my eyes.
"No, just tired." I answered truthfully. Well, at least for the most part. A knock came from the door and an intern came in with a folder. "I have those files you wanted Mr. Cross," he layed them on my desk and I pulled the folder closer to me and away from Darby's questioning eyes. The intern hurried off back to doing whatever he was doing before I made him pull the files.
"What's that?" Darby asked. "Just some crime rating sheets," I lied and hoped it didn't reach my eyes which Darby bore into. "Oh," he muttered then cleared his throat,"well I guess I should be going. Just be aware of any changes or-"
"Darby, I got it," I interrupted and he drew his lips into a fine line. "Alright. Just take care of yourself, " he gave me one more questioning glance then walked swiftly out of my office. Darby didn't look too happy, he never really did look happy but who am I to judge? I stood and closed my door then sat back down at my desk and opened the folder.
Electra Volkov.
No middle name found, name not found in database, no know relatives. Resided at Dresden Children Orphanage from age 9 to 12. Facility deemed condemned after fire. Staff died in fire, some bodies of orphans unaccounted for after fire. Volkov found to be the arsonist...was never apprehended.
One paragraph. One damn paragraph is all we have on her. There has to be more, somewhere. How the hell did she escape? How did she kill all of the staff at the orphanage? And the biggest question of them all: WHY?
A knock comes from the other side of the door and without acknowledgement, Chris the mailman walks in with a letter in hand and a smile on his face. "Good morning Mr. Cross. You have a letter today," he said brightly and gently laid the white envelope on my desk.
I glanced down at the elegantly written words that said my name and the address to the building I worked in. Oddly, there wasn't a return address. A tight know formed in my stomach and I anxiously unopened the letter. I unfolded the single white piece of paper and saw a few words inked onto the paper. When the process begins, and it becomes unbearable, my door will be opened for you.
E.V.
I crumpled the paper and tossed it into the paper bin beside my desk then raked my fingers through my hair. I knew who wrote that letter, but why and what did she mean by unbearable?