The room beyond is blindingly sterile, making my eyes almost burn from how searing the bright lights are. I blink rapidly, trying to focus.

"It's good to see you made it, Ivy," the man says. "We thought for a moment you had pulled out."

I let out a charming laugh and take a seat on the cold metal chair that sits in front of their metal table. Marcus takes a seat between them on the other side. Shivers ripple down my spine and I look around. With the exception of the metal table and chairs, along with some briefcases by my interviewer's feet, there is nothing else in here. There are only blinding white walls and floors. It feels more like an interrogation room than an interview office.

"I had some problems with the showers," I reply to the man.

"More problems?" the woman asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing I couldn't overcome," I reply simply, putting on a wide smile. "Though an email may need to be sent to maintenance."

Marcus lets out a low chuckle and the woman bites back a smirk.

"I suppose it's best we don't ask," the man says.

"Yes," I reply and shift uncomfortably in the hard chair.

All jokes over, their faces turn serious. I gulp, swallowing a lump in my throat as I remember the girl who left before me. What do they do to her?

Marcus leans forward, resting his arms on the table, looking into my eyes.

"You understand, Miss Astor, that for a job like this, you must have mental resilience?" he asks. "Working in my department means that you won't only be working on highly confidential material, but highly disturbing material also. The game of spies and espionage is gruesome and dangerous. You will become a target to our enemies, and you will see first-hand the horror that they cause. From assassinations to terrorism to seeing the aftereffects of capture of our own and what is done to them in enemy hands – you will see horrors you never could have imagined first-hand. It will change you forever. Can you live with that? Can you see and do what we do and still function effectively and safely?"

I almost smile to myself. If he knew what my life was like, both in the academy and worse, back with my mother, he would realise he doesn't need to ask that question of me.

"I am strong enough," I simply reply.

"We hope so," the woman says. "We need people who aren't going to break at the first sign of difficulty."

I nod my head; not sure I like where this is going.

The woman reaches down and pulls out a small, white bag. She reaches into it and my eyes widen at the sight of a syringe, wrapped in protective packaging. Slowly, she opens the wrapper. I tense, my muscles stiffening in apprehension.

I look at Marcus, but his expression gives nothing away.

"This is a very special tool of ours," the woman says, and I don't miss the slight smile on her face as she puts on white latex gloves, the sound of them snapping on her skin almost making me jump.

The man leans down to the side and pulls out a briefcase. He clicks it open, revealing large goggle-type things. I frown and tilt my head in confusion.

"This is the latest development in virtual reality technology," he tells me. My eyes narrow curiously and I lean back in my chair.

"Through this device, we will show you first-person point-of-view scenarios of very much real-life situations you may one day face," he explains.

"With the addition of this drug, the experiences being shown to you through the virtual reality glasses will come to feel very real," the woman explains.

"Right," I reply.

"We are warning you, Miss Astor, what we are about to show you is brutal," Marcus tells me. I nod my head and bite nervously at my lips.

"I can take it," I assure him.

His jaw tightens ever so slightly and he nods at the woman.

"There are monitoring systems built into the glasses and we will attach more to you. That way, we can pull you out, if need be," the man assures me.

"What does it monitor?" I ask.

"Brain activity, heart, all the good stuff," he grins excitedly.

"And what about the drug? Can it be stopped if everything is getting too much?"

"Yes," the woman assures me. "We have an effective antidote. Trust us, Miss Astor, the moment you either ask, or we deem it too dangerous, this exercise will be stopped immediately. You will also be eligible for counselling if you find yourself affected by today's exercise."

Well, that's not a good sign.

"This will be disturbing and extremely difficult," Marcus says, pushing a tablet toward me. "This is a consent form."

I read over it quickly. My eyes widen as I look at some of the warnings about possible trauma resulting in the test ahead.

"By signing this, you accept to participate in the exercise and accept the risks and consequences that may come about from it."

With a sigh, I write my name. Clammy sweat breaks out across my skin and my heart thunders in my chest. The thought of accidentally slipping up and revealing my true identity sends pulses of terror through me. I gulp, swallowing a lump in my throat, then push the tablet back to Marcus.

"Alight, we will begin," the woman says, standing up. She comes to my side and I hold out my arm.

"You're sure, Ivy," Marcus says, looking into my eyes. I smile softly.

"I can handle it," I reply, my voice trembling ever so slightly.

He nods his head and then gestures for the woman to inject me. Gently, she holds my arm and injects the needle into my skin. I barely even feel it and she's done in less than a second. The man stands up with the headset.

He helps me put them on. Talking as he does so.

"The simulations shown to you are very much like a game. There are multiple pathways you can take for different outcomes." I wince as he tightens the straps around my head. Surprisingly, the goggles themselves don't feel as heavy or bulky as I had assumed. In fact, they are sleek and strangely light. As the glasses wrap around the top of my face, I can no longer see the room. Instead, it is just darkness from the screens. I feel the man clipping things around my ears. I assume they are speakers of some sorts.

"How do I choose which route to take?" I ask.

"You don't," Marcus replies, "at least not consciously."

The woman speaks up next. "It will be chosen based on your body's reactions - hence all the monitors. The calmer you are, the more likely you will make it through the intended scenario. However, if you're panicking and terrified, then that is how you will react in the simulation."

"Right," I say, frowning in confusion.

Marcus' chair scraps and I feel him come to my side. For a second, I panic.

What if this was all a trap for me? What if this was to weed someone like me out and this drug is some sort of truth-telling serum? My heart rate increases and my sweaty hands ball into tight fists.

No, don't be stupid, Ivy.

"I'm just going to attach the monitoring devices to you," Marcus says beside me.

"Okay," I reply.

He takes my hand gently and I take in a sharp breath as his fingers tickle my skin. Something is pressed against the top of my hand. Then, he turns my hand over and sticks something to my wrist. All the while he's touching me, I hold my breath.

Marcus says something else about attaching more monitors to my forehead and neck, but his words sound slurred, and distant. It gets further and further away until all I can hear are my own breaths, loud and booming in my ears. My mind spins and my tongue feels strangely heavy in my mouth.

Then, the screens light up in front of my eyes.

I stiffen and gasp. It's so real.

I'm walking down the street at night. I can hear distant sirens and the sounds of car engines. I can smell the diesel from the buses.

How?

Yet, before I can think about it further, I find myself slipping completely into this fake world. All thoughts of the interview room and Marcus leave my mind.

This is my reality.

I come to a building. Stopping outside the door, which is practically falling off the hinges, I reach into my pocket. As soon as I see the gun, I immediately feel its weight in my hand and the coldness of the metal.

Perhaps that's what the drug does. It tricks my brain into filling in physical blanks of what my eyes see - making me think I smell or feel something. I hold up the gun and push the door. It creeks eerily.

Beyond, is a long, dark corridor. My breath is loud in my ears as I slowly walk in. The hairs on the back of my neck stand, and I shiver. There is another door right at the end, a small crack of light creeping from it.

I hear low voices, followed by an agonised scream.

I jump, my heart rate spiking. In my hands, the gun trembles. The floor creeks beneath my feet as I walk slowly toward the door, shadows moving beyond, visible through the cracks.

I look down at the gun and my shaking hands.

They shouldn't be shaking. I was trained better than that. Something feels off about all of this.

It's an exercise, don't expose yourself.

The thought is fleeting, and it disappears almost as soon as I think it, vanishing from my mind as this dark, dingy corridor consumes my thoughts once more. This is where I am. This is my reality.

I take in a deep breath and try to calm myself, but my veins feel strange and tingly. My muscles are heavy, almost like walking through a dream.

It's not real.

It is real.

It's not real.

Another scream cuts through the air and I inhale sharply, smelling the mould and dampness of this wretched, crumbling building.

I reach the door. Slowly, I open it, holding the gun out ahead of me.

No, this isn't right. I shouldn't be entering this room alone, not without backup. Right?

A third scream, louder and more agonised than the first sends shivers down my spine. Their voice breaks in their throat, almost as if their scream has ripped their vocal cords apart. My stomach churns at the sound of it, and tears sting my eyes.

Then, I'm kicking open the door.

But I didn't want to do that. I don't just burst in without planning.

What's going on?

It's an exercise. You're watching through the goggles. This is a pre-made video.

Before I can comprehend my thoughts, I'm ducking out of the way of gunfire, throwing myself behind a large wooden crate. A scream leaves my mouth. Loud, deafening explosions sound around me, making my ears sting and burn. Debris flies everywhere and I swear I feel the whistle of a bullet rush past me. Terror grips me, making my muscles freeze in place and my veins burn with terror-induced adrenaline.

No, this isn't right.

My hand grips the gun tightly and I force myself again to calm down. Panic will just get me killed. I look up, spotting a reflection of the enemies in the monitor of a black TV screen above me, the screen shattered and ridden with bullet holes. Still, it is enough for me to see where they are.

I take in a deep breath, then stand.

Don't give yourself away!

Spinning around, I raise the gun and fire, each one hitting their targets effortlessly. One second, gunfire booms around me. The next, there is deathly silence.

I look at the bodies on the floor for a second, before passing by them casually, moving toward the table where another figure lies. I almost gag as I see what's been done to him.

His stomach has been sliced open, his guts and organs spilling around him. The stench of blood and rotting fills the air, clogging my nose. Somehow, the man is still breathing. I walk over to him slowly, noticing the horrific cuts and bruises that cover the rest of his body. He makes a sickening gurgling sound with each breath and blood pools around him. The sound of it dripping off the table onto the floor is deafening.

His face is so distorted and broken, that for a few seconds, I don't even recognise him. Then I see it.

It's Marcus.

The gasp catches in my throat and I bring my hand up to my mouth to stop myself from being sick.

This isn't real.

I can't look away from the horror before me. It is seared into my mind. Tears spill down my cheeks as I watch him gasp for breaths and his bloodshot eyes meet mine. They are pained, pleading. I clench my jaw and take in a shallow breath. Then, slowly, I raise the gun. Before I can even think about it, I put a bullet into his head, putting him out of his misery.

The image changes around me, crackling, and then dissolving. Soon, I'm in another scenario – this one equally as horrifying as the first. Then, I'm in another, and another. Each one I flit in and out of remembering that it isn't real and being completely convinced that it is happening.

The things I see are brutal – from the after-effects of terror attacks to being captured and tortured myself. Yet, I push through it, never allowing myself to panic.

Eventually, I am dragged back into reality. The goggles are pulled off my head and for a second, my vision is completely consumed with blinding white lights. I blink rapidly, my eyes burning.

Then, I stretch, my muscles strangely stiff and tingling.

"Ivy?" Marcus asks, making me jump.

"What was that?" I ask in a confused whisper.

My stomach churns uncomfortably and I let out a shaky breath, trying not to be sick.

"Don't worry, the drug will wear off soon. There is a bucket beside you if you need to be sick," the woman says. I close my eyes and focus on not doing that. I take in slow, deep breaths before having a small sip of water from the glass in front of me.

"That was very impressive, Miss Astor," the man says.

I open my eyes and look at him, not able to even find the words as all those images replay in my mind once more. I find Marcus' eyes and bile rises in my throat as I remember this tortured, mutilated body.

I almost gag.

"The bucket, Miss Astor," the woman says, half amused as she points beside me.

I shake my head and force it away.

"I'm good," I whisper.

"Well, you'll be glad to hear they were excellent results," Marcus says.

"How did that all work?" I ask, disorientation making my mind spin.

"Despite it looking real, all of what was shown to you was animated. In each simulation, there were multiple pathways and situations you could have ended up in. Almost like a game. The pathway you took was decided by the way your body was reacting to the threat in front of you. So, the calmer you were, the closer to the story you followed. The more terror you felt, the more the 'character' made poor and panicked decisions which lead to worse consequences."

I frown, vaguely remembering being told that as the exercise was starting.

"So not everyone saw and experienced what I did?" I ask.

"No," Marcus replies, biting back a small smile. "Most do not make it to the end."

My eyes widen.

"I still don't understand," I whisper, hoping that my results aren't so impressive that they are suspicious. My stomach drops and my heart flutters with nerves.

"It doesn't matter," the woman says. "All that matters is the fact that you passed. Well done."

"Thanks," I whisper and clear my throat awkwardly. "How long was I in there?"

"It was only ten minutes."

"What?" I gasp. It felt like hours.

"The drug is powerful stuff. It doesn't last long, but it packs a mighty punch," the man chuckles. "It warps your sense of time."

"Oh," I reply, my head spinning slightly. I shake it and try and sip some more water.

"How did you manage to stay so calm? What sort of technique did you use?" Marcus asks, his eyes narrowing slightly.

I gulp and shrug. "I don't know. I just kept telling myself that panicking wouldn't get me anywhere and that I had to do what needed to be done."

He nods his head and writes something down.

"I've always been good at cutting off my emotions," I continue. "I've never had to do it for anything like that, but there have been times when I've just had to push everything aside and get on with it. That's what I did then."

"Interesting," the man replies.

"Is that really what I'll be up against if I get this job?" I ask, letting my voice break slightly.

"They were all worst-case scenarios," the woman replies casually.

"But it is a possibility. Perhaps not immediately, but this job is a gateway job into bigger and more dangerous things. Maybe not in the next two years, but with all the training and experience you'll get, you never know where you may be in the next few decades. Better to weed out those who can't handle it now rather than have them break down on us after thousands have been spent on all their training," Marcus says.

"That makes sense," I reply.

"We can discuss the future of this career at another point. For now, Miss Astor, you are done. You can relax and then start preparing for the next stage of the process," the man says.

"Thank you," I reply, standing up on wobbling legs. Marcus stands and walks over to me, gently taking my arm and helping me stand. Our eyes meet for a moment and I smile softly.

He smiles back, and I swear I see pride in his gaze.

"Come, Miss Astor. I will escort you out to where a medical team is ready to do some checks, just to make sure you're okay."

"Thank you," I reply, practically leaning on him as he leads me to the exit. He takes me out of a different door than the one I came through, meaning none of the others will see me, which I am grateful for.

"I'm glad you aren't chopped up into pieces," I joke to him, my words slightly slurred. His eyes widen.

"It was me you saw in the first exercise?" he asks curiously.

"Yeah, why?" I ask.

"Because, when it comes to who you find on the table, the simulation is meant to show you someone you care about."

My eyes widen and for a second, Connor's face pops into my mind. Why didn't is show me him? Then, as it dawns on me, heat fills my face.

"Really?" I ask, making my voice sound nonchalant.

Marcus laughs, clearly not believing it.

"It must be broken," I say.

Marcus pauses and turns to me, looking into my eyes. I nearly melt as he smirks. The expression is as beautiful as it is dangerous. I look up into his bright blue eyes, my breath hitching.

"You need to be careful, Ivy," he says, his voice deep and calm.

"I do?" I ask, giving him an innocent, doe-eyed expression.

"I'm not someone you want to care about," he warns. I gulp. The air around us grows thick as he steps closer to me. The scent of his fresh citrus aftershave hits me, making my toes curl.

"Why?" I whisper, licking my dry lips.

"Because people like you who care for people like me always end up dead. You're good. You're innocent. My enemies will tear you apart."

With that, he steps away, leaving behind a strange cold patch. I gulp and awkwardly follow him as he leads me to the medical staff.

A thought comes into my mind before I can stop it.

If only you knew what I really am. I'm perfect for you.