i wanted to rewrite this with more emilia screen time so i did

"Hello?" Samantha picked up her phone and walked out of the room where Aurora, Clover and Kate were watching some shitty romcom in. Somehow, Samantha's place had become the de facto spot for film night. They closed the door behind them, blocking out the sound of the movie.

"Is this Miss Samantha Anson?" The voice on the other end of the line was professional and civil. Samantha thought for a moment before answering. "Yes?" She answered, after an uncomfortable pause.

"Hello, Miss Anson. I'm Agent Smirnov with the FBI. We understand that you have a connection with the Children of the New Order, and we'd like to meet with you."

Of course. There were some things that Samantha would never be able to escape. Even though they were the best shot in their class at the FBI Academy, they'd only ever be the freak that grew up in a cult.

"Yeah, that's fine."

"We'll meet sometime next week. There's a government building near Felicity Valley-"

"Graymont Government Facility?"

"Yes. We'll meet there. 3 pm on Wednesday suit you?"

"Yeah, that's fine."

"Just tell the receptionist that you're there to see Smirnov and Flores. Thank you for your co-operation, Miss Anson."

-

After telling the receptionist who they were there to see, Samantha was led to a small room with a metal desk and four metal chairs, all of which were bolted to the floor. There was a one-way mirror on the wall to her right. Yep. Definitely an interrogation room.

There were two people waiting for her, both sitting on the same side of the desk. To her left, there was a short Latina, with dark curly hair and a blue jacket that Samantha assumed had "FBI" printed on the back. Next to her was a tall, blond white man.

"Miss Anson, please take a seat." The woman said, gesturing vaguely to one of the chairs. Samantha hesitantly sat down.

"I'm Agent Flores, and this is Agent Smirnov. I think you have some understanding of what this is about."

"Yes, I think I do."

"Just to be clear, everything you say from this point onward is on the record and may be used as evidence." Agent Smirnov said, placing a tape recorder on the table between them, breaking the silence.

"I understand." Samantha looked down at her hands, and then up at the recorder when they thought looking at their hands may be a bit suspicious.

"This is a voluntary interview, not an interrogation. You are free to have a lawyer present during this meeting." Agent Flores said, but it sounded like she was reading straight off a script.

"I don't need a lawyer." Samantha raised her head, making eye contact with the agent.

"Okay. Can you answer a few basic questions first?" Flores flipped over a page in her purple notebook.

"Sure."

"Can you confirm your name for the record?"

"Samantha Maeve Anson."

"Miss Anson, for how long were you a member of the Children of the New Order?"

"My parents are still members. My brother and I were born into it. We left when he was eighteen and I was fifteen."

The agent sitting to the right looked at her for a second, with some sort of pity or compassion in his eyes. Samantha hated the way he looked at her.

"So you never chose to be in the group?"

"No, not at all."

"Miss Anson, can you please confirm the identities of your parents and brother?"

"My mother's name is Violet Anson. My father is Sawyer Anson. My brother was..." They paused for a second. Was. God, why did that still feel so weird? "...Jason Lee Anson."

"We understand your brother's cause of death was ruled as a homicide, but the case is unsolved. Would you be willing to go into any more detail?"

"He was shot in the chest four years ago. We were living together at the time, I had just turned eighteen. I found him dead in our apartment."

"Do you believe it is possible that a member of the Children of the New Order was responsible for his death?"

"Absolutely. The way he was shot - that's the way Lucian would've shot him. That's the way Lucian taught us to shoot." Realisation dawned on the faces of both agents, and Flores began furiously scribbling in her notebook.

"Did Lucian Lyons ever have an illegal weapon in his possession during your time in the group?"

Samantha resisted the urge to laugh.

"Almost constantly. He started getting really paranoid and started stockpiling weapons. He thought me and my brother how to use a gun, and said if we saw any law enforcement nearby, to just shoot them. Shoot to kill."

"How old were you at this time?"

"I was seven. Jason was nine."

-

Samantha left the car Emilia was driving and took a step onto the dirt road that they knew all too well. She looked up at the compound and suddenly felt like that seven-year-old girl crying in the back of Lucian's truck all over again. 

"Anson, you alright?"

Emilia's voice took them out of the trance.

"Yeah, I'm fine. You know, they got this place from some Christian charity? Weird, isn't it?" Smirnov smiled at her. "Yeah. You're about to be going into a charity building in a bulletproof vest." The agent said playfully, tossing a black vest in her direction.

"I'm about to be going into my childhood home in a bulletproof vest." Samantha lightheartedly corrected him, catching it.

-

"Wow, Mimi. I never thought I'd live to see you in an FBI vest." Lucian smirked. "You grew up. You got dumber." His voice was filled with venom. The man that Samantha spent her entire childhood trying to get the approval of was looking at her like she wasn't even a human. There was a part of them that wanted to run over to their parents and apologise for everything and believe that everything could be okay. Of course, it was never okay. Samantha was born inside this compound, and she had no intentions of dying there.

"It's a shame, isn't it?" Samantha wasn't sure if his question was rhetorical or literal, but either way, they weren't exactly in the mood of dignifying anything he said with a response. "You were good. I trained you. I spent countless hours making you into something, and you throw it all away? For what? So you can feel like you were making a difference? For your own peace of mind?"

Don't you dare cry, Anson. This is your negotiation.

"Do you remember Debbie Lockhart?"

Of course she did. Debbie Lockhart was about the same age as Samantha, but she only joined when she was five years old. Her real name was Salem Sparrow Lockhart, but Lucian decided that having an unusual name was a greater sin than giving a literal child a gun and turning them into a child soldier, so Salem Sparrow became Deborah Faith. Debbie was a nice girl, with silky blonde hair and big blue eyes, she was much better at recruiting others than Samantha was.

Samantha's eyes flickered across the room, and not a single one of the fearful faces they saw had any resemblance to Debbie.

"What did you do?"

"Deborah was a weak link. She just didn't have it in her to hurt anyone. Sweet girl, but sweet doesn't get you far in life. It's a kill or get killed world, Mimi. And Deborah wouldn't kill you. She wouldn't take the shot."

"What did you do?"

"It's the circle of life. Deborah Lockhart wouldn't shoot you. Hope Adair was able to shoot your brother. Deborah dies, Hope thrives. It's God's will."

Again, she looked around the room, and there was Hope. She was staring daggers into Samantha, but she was standing alone. The Adair girls were triplets, named Faith, Hope and Charity. They were a few years younger than Samantha, and inseparable from birth.

The other two girls were buried in the back, near the garden, along with Debbie Lockhart and ever other teenager that was just "too cowardly" to make themselves into the perfect little assassin Lucian wanted them to be.

"You would've done it, Mimi."

"What?"

"You would've killed anyone I asked you to."