Song of the Chapter: Some Wobbles - Ephixa (Dubstep)

Yay, an old song! Paired with the freaking awesome new cover!!

(Phantom's POV)

"Are you sure you don't need help?"

"I'm fine," I grumble, pushing Ben away.

"Two days isn't long enough," he protests. "You can't heal something that deep in two days."

I ignore him and continue to Jensen's office, my heart hammering in my chest. My awkward double limp steadily grows worse, and Ben has to grab me before I fall over. My pounding heart brings throbbing pain to my chest, but I try to ignore that, too. I don't know why Jensen wants to see me, and that makes me nervous.

We reach the office and Ben gives a loud knock, making me flinch.

"Come in," Jensen says politely.

I swallow nervously and push the door in. Jensen's waiting behind his desk when we come in, and he's not even smiling like he usually is. My hand strays to my bracelet for a comfort. I don't like the feeling in this room. It's a dark, crushing feeling, like I'm committing some sin by entering.

"Benjamin, please return to the door," Jensen says coldly. "Nicholas, remain where you are."

Ben gently squeezes my shoulder and leaves my side, taking his place with two other soldiers. Suddenly, the room seems a lot more uncomfortable, and I shift nervously.

"I believe we have something to talk about, don't we?" Jensen says, his expression still cold.

"Yes, sir?" I squeak out. I try to straighten up and drop my hands to my sides.

"It's time you told me what I'm looking for."

Here it comes. He's finally going to ask.

"What is the password on your parents' box?"

"I don't know?" I whisper. I know he can see right through my lie.

"Playing games is for children, Nick." Jensen circles me like a vulture. I stiffen as his hand brushes over my shoulder. "I have more leverage on you than anyone else. I can torture everyone you love - I can and I will. Don't underestimate me."

I've done it once before. That was one of the worst mistakes of my life. I didn't think he'd hurt my friends, and instead ...

"Not only that ... " Jensen chuckles morbidly. "That winged boy - the one unconscious in a seemingly comatose state - I can make him do it. I can make him torture you and your friends. Wouldn't that be something? The one everyone was so determined to protect becomes the one who kills them all."

"He'd never - " I whisper.

"Really?" Jensen cuts me off. "You think he wouldn't do it? Braken is gone, Nick. The only thing left is F2-06." He emphasizes every character in his call number and I flinch each time he does. "Tell me the password. I know you have it. You're a terrible liar."

My eyes flicker across the room and I lick my dry lips, putting my hands behind my back. I avoid touching my bracelet, just in case.

"Nick," Jensen says firmly. His quiet voice scares me. "Look at me. I won't ask again. How many of your friends will I have to kill before you give in?"

I'm shaking now, trying to meet his eyes, but I keep dropping my gaze back to the floor. I don't know. I can't do it. The sick feeling in my chest makes me want to curl up and hide. I've known this password for six years, from the day I turned eleven, when my parents told me. I promised I'd never tell anyone, and I haven't. I can't betray my own parents. My hands are sweaty and my fingers twitch toward my bracelet.

"Seize him," Jensen says.

I tense up, but they don't come after me. The two guards behind me grab Ben, and though I force myself to stay facing forward, I can hear their struggle and then the sound of a gun clicking. I let myself turn my head a little, my eyes wide and afraid. They've got him on his toes, since they're both taller and stronger than him, and they've pressed a pistol against his head. He's gasping for breath, terrified and confused. He doesn't know what's going on. I may not like him all that much, but I can't let them kill him. My fingers twitch toward my bracelet again.

One of the soldiers notices and gives Jensen a quick signal. Jensen stares at my right arm for just a second and then suddenly seizes my wrist, yanking me toward him. I shriek and try to pull away, but his grip is like iron. He turns my hand over, so my palm is facing up. That's how the metal circle always sits - against the bottom side of my wrist so no one can see it easily. I yank again, but my chest is screaming at me and he's determined to keep me trapped in his grip. He reaches for the circle, but I slap my other hand over it. He scowls and uses his other hand to slide the knot loose on the other side, and I start to get desperate, shouting things that turn into screams of terror, pain, and fury. I fight him with what little strength I have left, but he finally slips the rope bracelet off of my wrist and knees me in the stomach. I double over and drop to my knees with a choked yelp, gripping my sides as I cough and struggle for breath through my pain.

"'Purpose'," Jensen says, reading the single word written on it. He starts to laugh, cold and mocking. "Jessica said that all the time. 'Everything has a purpose,' she'd say when we'd mess up a calculation or when an experiment would fail. I can't believe I didn't think of it earlier."

"No," I choke out. "No, that's not it."

"Then what is it?" Jensen crouches next to me, smiling. I don't answer because I can't. I'm lying. He waits another second and then sighs in mock regret. "I thought so." He drops the bracelet on the floor and stands back up. "Soldiers, please take him to his cell - Number 1. Feel free to return his old clothes - his jacket, useless headphones, bandana, et cetera. We'll be needing his uniform." He chuckles softly. "You can strip him now, if you'd like."

The two soldiers shift uncomfortably and Ben pushes away from them. "You can't do that!" my friend protests. "He's just like the rest of us!"

"He's nothing like the rest of you," Jensen says coldly. "That was not a request, that was an order. Both of you, do it now."

They come forward and Ben tackles one of them, bringing him crashing to the floor. "Run!" he cries.

I grab my bracelet from off of the floor and struggle to my feet, but the other soldier grabs me, making me stagger and cringe in pain. He grabs my shirt collar, ripping the two buttons out of their holes and then pulling it over my head. I try to keep it down, but I hurt too much and he pulls it off, exposing the bandages and cuts across my chest. The other soldier kicks Ben away and the two of them knock me over, pinning me on the floor as they yank off my shoes and pants. I fight back, kicking and screaming, but I'm helpless against two of them.

Ben climbs to his feet, his hand up to his bleeding nose, and tries to run to me, but Jensen draws his own pistol and suddenly shoots him. "Ben!" I scream in terror, helpless as I watch him collapse on the ground, his hands against his chest as he bleeds and bleeds ... "You killed him!" My voice cracks and my heart lurches. "He has nothing to do with this!"

"We'll fix him up, don't worry," Jensen laughs. "He's not dead yet."

"Please, help him," I cry, tugging against the two soldiers' grips. Just for a moment, I don't care that I'm practically naked, or even that Jensen has my parents' password. I only care about Ben. He's dying, and fast.

"Take him away," Jensen orders, and the soldiers drag me out of the room, down the halls, to cell Number 1. I know this cell. This is the cell Braken was trapped in, the pitch black, claustrophobic room. I scream at them, fighting and pulling, drawing attention to myself, but I don't care. I don't care that Jensen is humiliating me by forcing me down this hall wearing nothing but my underwear. I don't care that I haven't survived here. I only care about Ben. My only friend in this dark world was shot. My only friend is going to die.

They shove me into the tight room and snap the chain around my arm, tightening it until I can barely feel my hand. They dump my old clothes, my 'Phantom' clothes, next to me and then leave. One of them glances back regretfully, but neither say anything. The door closes and the cracks seal up until it's completely dark. Even when my eyes adjust, I can't see my hands in front of my face.

I scream at them until I lose my voice and tug at the chain until my arm is scraped raw and bleeding. Only then do I accept the truth. I'm trapped. I've failed.

I guess I might as well put my clothes back on, and struggle to pull my pants on single-handed, accidentally sticking my foot through the hole in the knee. I put on my socks and old worn out shoes and feel different when I'm finished. I feel like myself again. I feel trustworthy and loyal and remember who I am. I am Phantom.

It's freezing in here and only getting colder, and I bet if I could see, my breath would be a visible cloud in the air. I know they do this to weaken prisoners. Being in the freezing dark with nothing to eat and nothing to drink will weaken them faster, but it won't kill them if they're checked on. Jensen is smart, no matter how much I hate to admit it.

They didn't return my shirt and I can only put my jacket on one arm, so I pull my beanie down my neck and curl up against the wall to try and keep myself warm. I'm freezing and tired and afraid, but I'm alive. There's still a chance, I think. A slim one, but a chance just the same. I can still stop Jensen. I sit my headphones in my lap and turn my bracelet over in my hand. Everything has a purpose, she always said.

What's my purpose? Who am I? I realize that even though I've been searching for myself, even though I've fit into many roles, there's never been a question about my identity. I've always known who I am.

I am Phantom.

●•●•●•●

(Braken's POV)

I wake up again, feeling ... different. Not physically different. Mentally different. Older. I feel older.

"F2-06?" someone says and my attention immediately snaps to them. That's new. I kind of like my call number. Weird. "Stand up," he orders.

I obey and pull myself to my feet, noticing that I'm still covered in dry blood. It's matted in my hair and crusted across my face and back. My hands are covered in it, and I can smell the metallic scent, but for some reason, I don't mind.

"How do you feel?" Jensen asks.

I shrug, my wings rising and falling. Bits of dried blood flake off of them and drop onto the floor. "I don't know."

He frowns. "How do you feel about Nicholas?"

I shrug again. "I don't know." I think I might hate him, but I thought he was my friend. Is he? I'm not sure anymore. I don't feel much. I'm just kind of blank. Empty.

"How about Noisestorm? Do you still want him alive?"

"Why not?" I shrug a third time. "Keep him."

Jensen's expression is hard to read. "Alright." He taps his chin as he thinks. "Perhaps it takes a while to show up."

"What?" I scratch my arm, more blood dropping onto the floor. I tip my head to the side, like I've always done, but now it feels different, unnatural. It makes me feel creepy and scary. I don't know how I feel about that. Maybe I should be confused. But I'm not. Maybe I should be afraid. I'm not afraid, either. What am I?

I'm F2-06, that's what.

"Oh, nothing." Jensen waves his hand dismissively. "Never mind. It's not important, anyway."

I can see in his expression that it is important, but I stay quiet.

"What's the last thing you remember?" he asks, and I notice two scientists behind him, taking notes on everything I do and say.

"Letting them knock me out with whatever's in that needle," I say. "I remember nearly killing Nick and I remember feeling bad about it. Feeling guilty. You told me my call number that I'd never heard before. F2-06."

"Guilty? Do you still feel guilty?"

I think about it for a minute. "Not really."

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"Do you feel anything?"

"I'm hungry."

"Emotions?"

"I don't know." I'm telling the truth. I don't know what I'm feeling. I'm feeling blank. Cold, I guess, but not physically.

"Interesting." Jensen circles me, studying me. I let my eyes follow him, but otherwise don't move. "You certainly look the same," he mutters. "You're quite bloody. We'll take care of that later."

I stretch my wings a little and he jumps back. The scientists, who are all the way across the room, flinch in fear. They're all afraid of me.

"Keep your wings to yourself," Jensen hisses. "You can use them later."

I feel a little burst of excitement, the first emotion I've felt this whole time. I get to use my wings again. "When?"

"Soon." He smiles darkly. "Excited?"

"Yes." I nod vigorously, a morbid grin spreading across my face. My wings twitch a little, just as excited as I am. It's almost like they have feelings, too, or maybe it's just another side effect. Maybe it's just me.

"Good. You're very special, F2-06. You're my best, you know. My favorite." He studies me for another minute and then says, "Well, let me know if you feel anything ... strange. These two soldiers will take you to your cell, and in a few hours, I'll come get you and you can use your wings for me, okay?"

Now I feel a burst of anger. "Cell? You're taking me back, locking me up again? You just said I'm the best. I deserve better than that."

"Calm down," Jensen says sternly, but I can hear a hint of fear in his voice. He's scared of me, too. Interesting. "Maybe, some time, I'll get you something better, but for now, this is all we have."

I hiss something unintelligible under my breath. "Fine. I'll do it."

I see something like relief flash quickly through his eyes. "Good. I'll see you soon, then, F2-06."

I follow the two soldiers out of the lab and down the hall, up to the prison area again. They open the cell I've been in before, the one with the single word written on one of the shelf beds: ALONE. They push me roughly inside and I hiss again, barely audible. If he likes me so much, why is he treating me this way?

I pace the cell for hours, back and forth, back and forth. I don't know what I'm supposed to do while I wait. My wings are too excited. I can't sit still. I run my fingers through my wings, shaking flecks of blood out of them, and then ruffle my bloody hair, trying to clean myself up. I can barely move my wings in here, and I feel tight and trapped.

Finally, Jensen comes back. He calls my number when my back is facing him and I spin around eagerly, noting how he flinches.

"Is it time yet?" I ask, coming right up to the door and gripping the bars tightly. He flinches when I do that, too.

"Yes," he says carefully.

"What will I be doing?" I ask as they open my cell with a grinding of gears.

The soldiers take my arms and roughly lead me out of the cell, following Jensen. "You'll be taking care of an small inconvenience."

My wings twitch and so do the soldiers. "What kind of inconvenience?"

"A man who has been disrupting my plans for weeks. You'll take care of him, if you know what I mean."

I know exactly what he means, and it excites me. There's a little voice, a smaller, frightened voice in the back of my head telling me that that's not who I want to become. "Remember the guilt?" it says. "That'll come back."

I shake my head wildly, startling the two guards. I'm not like that weak boy anymore. I'm strong now. Jensen made me strong and now he appreciates me. He needs me. I don't even care that it's to do his dirty work. I like his dirty work.

The others never treated me like this. They never needed me. They never let me do anything, unless it was to force me into some mission or riot. They all probably don't even care what's happened to me.

"What about Leo?" that voice asks. "And Noisestorm?"

Leo makes friends so easily anyway, and he'll probably feel bad until he finds someone else. That's what they all do. I bet Noisestorm will do the same thing. I don't need them anyway.

"We're here," Jensen says, opening the door and letting us inside a wide, white room. I know this room. This is the room where I fought Nick. His blood still stains the floor and I can smell it in the air. Or maybe that's just me. Maybe I'm smelling the blood on myself.

Another man, a bigger, taller man is ushered roughly into the room and stopped right across from me. He sees me and his face goes white in terror.

"Hullo," I say, smiling darkly.

He tries to cry something out, but his voice catches in his throat and he only emits a little squeal.

The four soldiers follow Jensen into the little protected room, and I notice that Noisestorm is there with them, handcuffed and standing at gunpoint. He looks terrified of me. He's still wearing my hoodie, and the quiet voice in my head makes a little noise of distress.

Jensen and his soldiers get settled and I can hear the three doors in the room click and lock tight. The man across from me starts to shake, his knees wobbly and his hands unsteady.

"F2-06," Jensen orders. "Your first job is to kill this man. I don't care how you do it or how long it takes, as long as it gets done. Can you do that for me?"

"This isn't right!" the little voice - the voice of Braken, the weak, pathetic little boy - screams in my head. "Oh, yes, sir." My smile widens, like the man's terrified eyes. And then I lunge at him and it begins.

He ducks and I soar over his head, slamming into the wall. I notice ledges on them, giving me places to perch and crawl on. I watch the man run to the door and pound on it, screaming and begging for mercy. Jensen's expression doesn't change. My smile only gets wider.

I dive back down at him and he suddenly whirls around and tries to run across the room to escape. I curve around and catch up to him, flicking my wings midair and slashing them across his back. He lets out a strangled scream and falls to the ground. I land on top of him, but he flips over and kicks me off, fueled by panicked adrenaline. I hiss in pain as he kicks me in the stomach, but then grab him again. "You can't escape me," I whisper. There's something in my chest that pushes me to go forward, to keep playing with him, like a cat and a mouse. I like this feeling. The feeling of finally being in control.

The voice cries out again. "You have to stop! This isn't you!" Braken wants me to stop. I just laugh and push it away.

I let go of the man and he scrambles back to the other side of the room, gasping for breath. I fly up to the ceiling rafters and creep around, crawling on my hands and knees, and laugh as he spins around again, frantically searching for me. His scarlet blood joins Nick's on the white floor.

I dart across the rafters like a rat and they creak and shudder, scaring the already terrified man. My laughter echoes through the room as he trips over himself and falls to the floor again. He curls up, his shoulders shaking, and covers his head with his hands as his back bleeds and bleeds.

With a little giggle of anticipation, I swoop in for the kill and slash him with my feathers. He cries out and curls up tighter, so I kick at him until he scrambles to his feet. Now I have a better place to slash - his chest. I cut him open, ripping and ripping until his croaks of agony fade and cut off all together. He crumples to the floor, still barely breathing, but then the blood loss is too much and he slowly dies.

I smile a little and shake out my wings, stepping away from the dead man. I can hear Braken's voice crying in my head. "You've let him win. You've let him win."

"F2-06?" Jensen calls from his protected room.

I look up at him and notice that Noisestorm's face is whiter than a ghost. He looks like he's going to pass out.

Jensen smiles. "Good work."

I smile back, putting my hands behind my back and feeling like a little kid again, getting praised for doing something right. I almost wish I had been praised in my childhood. Then maybe I wouldn't have turned out like this.

But this isn't bad. I'm just doing what Jensen tells me to do. He treats me like something special, and I like that. I like the attention he gives me.

"I think I have one more job for you today," he says.

"I can't wait," I reply.