I'm in motion.

"She's bleeding all over you." Says a familiarly sharp voice.

"Do you think I care? Drive faster!" Another familiar voice snaps. It's inhuman and processed to oblivion.

"I'm just saying it'll be difficult to clean."

A pause. "I wouldn't want to clean her blood off anyway."

--

I'm underneath a bright light. I groan blearily, the pain in my abdomen almost too much to bear. I try to move my hands to touch the area, but I find that my hands won't move.

"She's awake, sir," says the sharp voice. "Should I put her under again?"

"Do it."

I feel fingers probing in my gut, searching for something. The pain makes my body arch off of the flat surface I'm lying on, forcing a rough cry from my throat.

"I'm so sorry, Deva," Idris says. "It's almost out. You'll be okay."

I can't see him. All I can see is the light, brighter than the sun. My eyes water, and when I close them, the afterimage of the light is burnt onto my eyelids.

"I... can't... move!"

"You're restrained so you don't interrupt the process," Idris explains. "Just stay calm."

"My brother," I gasp. "Where's my brother?"

Idris doesn't reply to this. The fingers in my gut yank something out. The bullet, I think feverishly.

"Anden!" Idris shouts. "Where is it?"

"I'm having trouble measuring out the dosage, sir. Too much, and-"

"Give it to me, you fool!"

Something is poured into the hole in my stomach. It smells like honey and warmth. I would find the scent of it comforting if it weren't for the fact that it increases the pain tenfold. There's a high-pitched sound in my ears. It takes me a while to realize that it's my own scream.

"You're fine now. You're alright."

"I'm- I'm dying!"

"Don't say that," he whispers, after I've finished screaming again. "You can't die. You're alive, and you're staying alive."

How can you be sure? I want to ask, but another scream ravages my throat raw, and I pass out.

--

The next time I'm awake, I'm no longer restrained. There's no more pain, either, but fuzz occupies every inch of my conscious mind. A gas mask is strapped to my face, pumping cool air into my lungs. Whenever I breathe in, everything goes blurry at the edges.

"How are you feeling?"

I look to my right a bit. A girl sits there, pale, green-eyed, and dark-haired.

"You're beautiful," I say weakly. "You must be Alexandra Verdin."

A blush colours her cheeks. "And you must be Deva Amador."

"You know me?"

She brushes a strand of shining hair behind her ear. "I'd like to think I do. But back to my question- how are you feeling? Are you alright?"

"No more pain," I manage. "How long have I been here?"

Alexandra Verdin raises her wrist, her watch projecting a small hologram of the time. My vision is too blurry for me to even begin to read the revolving numbers.

"You've been here for a little over four hours," she replies. "You heal very quickly, Deva."

My eyelids flutter. I'm so tired. "I'm sleepy." I inform her.

I think I see her nod, but I'm gone again.

--

I don't know how long it's been, but by the time I'm up again, the gas mask has left my face and I feel strangely energetic. My head is propped up on a few pillows. My hands immediately move to my abdomen, lifting sheets off of my body. I hold my breath.

I'm naked underneath, but I'm surprised that my skin is smooth and free of a scar. I feel the softness there, my fingertips grazing the area where I know a bullet entered my body.

I breathe out. Satisfied for the time being, I observe my surroundings. I'm in a clean, white room free of adornments or windows, the only light coming from the long fluorescent tubes on the ceiling. A single chair is on my right.

I hear a beeping noise, and I look to where the noise came from only to see the wall to my left stretch open to form a doorway. Alexandra Verdin, dressed immaculately in white, strides through, her long black hair moving fluidly as if in water. She stops at the foot of my bed.

"Good evening." She smiles at me.

Evening. Has it already been a full day? "Hi," I say. Seeing her now that I'm not in a drug-induced stupor nearly makes me speechless. She's so beautiful. "Uh, what happened?"

She walks around the bed to sit in the chair. I pull the sheets over my body, suddenly aware of my nudity. A crease of worry forms between her eyebrows.

"You were shot."

"I know," I say, wrapping my arms around myself. "I mean, what happened afterwards?"

"Tell me how you're feeling first," she says. "Is there pain? Do you feel any numbness?"

"I feel fine." I tell her. "Better than usual, actually."

"That's great!" She exclaims, her perfect pink lips spreading into a dazzling smile, one of white teeth and squinting, happy eyes. She places a fair hand on the outline of my thigh below the blanket, patting me gently. "It was a fatal injury, you know. If Anden hadn't been there to negotiate with your brother, you might have-"

"Where is he?" The words are thick in my mouth. "My brother?"

Her dazzling smile falters. "I don't know if I'm the right person to explain this."

My blood runs cold. "What happened to him?"

She looks like she's about to reply, to give me the much-needed information, but she flinches like something's come very close to hitting her on the side of the head. She presses two fingers to her left ear and tilts her head in a way that would look thoughtful if it weren't for the crease of worry between her eyebrows. "Yes, sir."

Now she's standing, brushing imaginary dust off of her pristine clothing, an action that exudes elegance. She smiles at me again, but it's one of sympathy. "Idris is coming. I prepared some clothing for you earlier, and since you seem to be alright, please dress yourself." She reaches upwards the wall behind my bed, and presents me with a simple white shirt, pants, and undergarments. She must've pulled them off of a shelf. She holds the folded clothing out to me, waiting, but when I don't take it, she puts the clothing in my lap.

"I should probably get going." She says quietly.

I watch her leave the room, the wall shifting and moving to allow her exit, and reforming so it's solid once she's gone.

A few minutes pass, and I get out of bed. I'm a bit shaky on my feet, but I can move just fine. I begin to get dressed, putting on the undergarments and then the rest of the clothing. What happened to Blake? Is he okay? Is he here? Is he dead?

As I finish, the wall opens up again. Idris, in his black bodysuit and red cape, his mask streamlined and polished, appears. He has his gloved hands behind his back, hunched forward a bit like he's tired.

"It's nice to see you in good health," he says, crossing the room to sit in the recently vacated chair by my bed. "The last time I saw you, you were still unconscious. Do you feel alright?"

I seat myself on the edge of my bed, running a hand through my hair. It's soft and clean- they must have washed me.

"I'm okay," I say. "But that's not what's important to me right now. I need to know-"

"-what happened to your brother," he finishes. "You want to know where he is."

I nod eagerly, even though I feel sick to my stomach thinking of all the horrible possibilities. Did that man shoot him, too? If I ever find that man, I'm going to kill him.

"Alexandra Verdin said she wasn't the right person to explain it. Why?" I demand.

"She's not authorized to share information like that," Idris tells me, the hunch in his back slowly disappearing. "It's good that she didn't say anything."

"Why?" I demand again.

Idris crosses one leg over the other, eerily silent. One of his hands twitches in my direction- a barely noticeable action, but my eyes catch it. He shifts forward a bit, although I don't think he even realizes he's doing it.

"He's not dead," he says finally. "Do you remember anything of what happened?"

Idris' words don't serve to soothe me. He'd said it matter-of-factly. He's not dead, he'd said, like it was the time of day. It just makes me nervous, like whatever is befalling my brother is worse than death. Still, I think back to what happened. My memory of the event is starkly, strangely clear. I recall everything in minute detail, down to the whorls made by my movements in the smoke.

"I woke up from sleep. Blake- my brother- he was telling me that we had to go, that we had to get out of our unit. There was smoke everywhere. It burned my lungs and made me vomit. Someone yanked Blake away from me. It was a man wearing a gas mask. He spoke like he was trying to disguise his voice."

"And then?" Idris asks, his robotic voice grating momentarily on my eardrums.

"The man was hurting my brother, kicking him. 'You thought you could run away', that was what he said. I tried to knock him out so I could look for Blake, but he ended up shooting me."

"That's it?" I hear Idris breathe in, like he's preparing to speak at length about something.

"That's not it," I say softly. "There was something... else. Before I passed out."

Idris doesn't make a sound. He's waiting for me to tell him what the last thing was.

This is the part that doesn't stand out as vividly as everything else. This is the part that makes me squint trying to remember it. This is the part that, more than anything, leaves me curious.

"There were eyes in the smoke. Golden eyes."

Idris doesn't miss a beat. "Were there, now?" There's a lilt to his voice that wasn't there before.

"You must think I'm crazy," I mutter. "I probably hallucinated them." It wouldn't be the first time.

Idris just leans back in his chair. I feel his gaze on me, even through his mask. I look his way for a moment, eyes flickering towards him, and like before, his hand twitches. This time, he looks down at it, like it's someone who hasn't followed orders.

"Do you know anything about what happened?" I ask. "Anything at all?"

Just then, someone enters the room with heavy footfalls. I look up- it's Anden, his broad face and smouldering eyes solemn.

"Idris, sir. You requested me."

"Yes, Anden." Idris nods curtly at him. "You remember Deva, don't you?"

We meet eyes. He stares at me, and I stare back.

"It's nice to see you again," he states. "Especially now that you don't have a bullet in your stomach."

There's something weird about the way he's carrying himself. He's standing straight; or rather, he's trying to. His body is curved ever so slightly, almost undetectably.

"Anden went to your unit last night to attempt negotiations with your brother. If it weren't for him, you'd be..." Idris doesn't finish his sentence.

"You saved me?" I blurt.

He quirks an eyebrow. "I did."

"Did you see my brother?" My voice is more eager than I've ever heard it.

"I'm afraid I didn't," Anden replies. "By the time I got there, you were lying on the floor in a pool of your own blood, barely alive. The smoke had dissipated, but your brother was nowhere to be found." He glances to his left at Idris, who inclines his head. Anden clears his throat. "A crowd had gathered around your unit, presumably because of the gunshot. I carried you out to my car, and drove you here as quickly as possible."

I frown. "Just you?" I can remember being in a car, hearing Anden's voice, but also Idris'. Was he not there at all to begin with?

"Yes," he confirms. "Just me."

I shake my head. "Sorry. I... I'm just a bit confused about everything."

"Of course you would be," Idris says, drawing my attention towards him. "Now, what was that you'd said before? That there was a man there, beating your brother?"

I wince at the memory. "There was."

"What did he say- that your brother thought he could run away? Run away from what? Do you know what he might have been running from?"

I give pause at this. Blake would never have run from anything or anybody. Who would he have wanted to get away from?

"I don't know." I whisper.

Idris sighs. "You're not giving us very much to go on."

"Why do you care?"

"Because we're going to find your brother for you, obviously," he says. "Did you really think that we'd bring you here, to this facility, and release you out into the open without giving it our best effort to help you?"

"I..." I swallow. "I didn't think that was a priority for you."

He just taps absently on the side of his mask. "You must think very little of what I told you last night."

I feel my cheeks start to heat up, and I quickly look away. Everything he'd said comes rushing back to me, and I can't ignore the guilt that builds within me when I remember that I shouldn't be thinking about anything besides finding Blake. I press the heels of my palms into my eyes.

"Anden, you may go."

"Yes, sir."

Anden's footsteps recede, and I hear the wall rearranging itself. For a long time, Idris doesn't say anything.

Then, "Don't cry."

I grit my teeth. "I'm- I'm not. I won't."

"Good," he murmurs. "As I was saying, Anden and I will look for your brother. But, being that I am, well, a bit pragmatic, and my resistance efforts will be weakened with searching... I have a proposition for you."

My eyes are stinging beneath my palms. I press harder.

"Your brother for your service," Idris says. "Nothing more, and nothing less."

"What kind of service?"

"Not the kind you're thinking about." He mutters darkly.

"I wasn't thinking about that," I protest, dragging my palms downwards, freeing my eyes of tears, Idris coming into view before me. "Get your head out of the sewers."

"Only until you get yours out," he shoots back. "Anyway, I was hoping you could simply aid my rebellion. Help me topple the Elite regime. Help me get rid of the Chancellor. Help me bring equality to Adia, no matter what that may entail. That's all."

"That's all." I repeat.

"Well, maybe not all. I'd like your loyalty."

"You're offering to find my brother," I say, smiling grimly at him. "How can I not be loyal to you?"

This seems to please him. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

His hand twitches towards me, and this time I place my own hand atop it. He tenses, the glare on his mask from the lights moving as his head snaps up. He must be looking into my eyes, trying to read my expression.

"I don't know why some people like to badmouth you. You're much kinder than they give you credit for."

He just chuckles. He manages to actually sound nervous, somehow.

"Only to people I'm religious about."