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Under the Glass Sky

cellar.

cellar.

sparkle sparkle ✨

Introduction

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“Good morning Meropis,


I’m John Davidson, with you live this morning,


And there’s certainly no place like home,


On this Wednesday, April eleventh”

​




Year 2153:


The citizens of Meropis live underneath a glass sky, of an all-encompassing dome.


The average civilian life here is easy and unassuming; maybe even mundane.


Technology has flourished, the people have prospered.


Everything is close to perfect.

​




That is until,


You are marked by the Machine.

​




By year 2153, every living person is subjected under law to wear a Headband.


The headband is a thin, metallic band that monitors and controls brain activity.


It picks up on how you think, what you think, and who you are.


All of this information is constantly being sent to the Theogony Machine.

​




As soon as the Machine picks up on an abnormal activity,


As soon as it figures out that your brain doesn’t quite work the same way,


That your thought processes re-write themselves around the headband’s control,


That’s it, that’s the end,


You’re done for.

​




You are no longer a citizen of Meropis,


You have two choices:


Be killed,


Or become a recruit.

​




​


General Information

​






  • This is the secret elite that run the real government.


    Citizens are typically recruited in.


    Split into six (really five) divisions:


    Oculus: Media


    A pretty, spacious, cylindrical building near the Palace


    Media control: news, entertainment, education, etc. Here are the creative minds that work endlessly to achieve the mundane, average T.V. shows that are airing, the mediocre songs that people listen to, and the kind of education system where everyone passes.


    Requies: Peace


    This is a huge, metallic building structure located underground near the Palace.


    Peacekeeping: Also known as recruitment and termination. Undesirables are killed by workers of the Requies, and new minds are recruited. Split into two groups: The “Shadows” who follow instructions and target objective, and the “Spotters” who give out directions and spy on objective.


    Argos: Monitor


    It's home base is actually part of the Palace, on the upper floors. However, it is the most diversely branched system. It is also the largest divison.


    Monitoring: all files and information and tabs are kept here. All the information received from bands, arrive into this division. Thus it can be said, that the Argos is the core of the Machine. There are literally hundreds of monitors receiving from thousands of cameras here.


    Euclid: Technology


    A huge, tall building, that is at the edge of the city


    Technology invention: Where anything new is invented and tested before given to the public to play with; whether it’s a new toaster, or an electric car. Some inventions go towards the public, and others are for the benefit of the Machine.


    Lua: Production


    Located underground, near the edge of the city, away from citizens


    Production control: controls food, goods, and such. The production of food is a tricky business especially. Each food basket for each family unit is constructed here. Sometimes certain people get certain…substances, put into their food.


    The Palace: Faux Government building


    The Commanders/Heads inhabit the building along with the randomly selected Minister.


    (Currently the minister is Christian White)





Locations

​
  • The Requies (general):


    The metallic building is a cylindrical shape, and there are a total of ten floors, with approximately 30-40 inhabitants. The middle of the building is hollow, and on the first floor, that space is known as the “Piazza,” which stretches up all the way to the top. It’s sort of made to look like a small plaza, hence the name, and is known as being “outside” of the building.


    The Elevator: The glass elevator is in the very middle, and from any floor, you can see the Piazza. The glass elevator can carry you above ground as well.





    The Piazza: a place to convene with other recruits during free time. A white, marble fountain sits near the elevator. In the middle sits a statue of a bearded man wearing a robe. Myrtle petals float in the fountain's waters.


    Elysian Fields:


    All divisions have some variation of the E-F, but the same name is commonly shared between them. The entrance hall to Elysian Fields in the Requies, is both spacious and beautiful. Various statues and tapestries adorn the building walls. The hall leads to several other rooms. This is the place where new recruits are first taken to, specifically into a special interrogation-type room. (This will be expanded later)


    In this interrogation room: it's mostly just white walls, with one wall being an entire one-sided mirror.


    New recruits are often drugged and locked into a chair when they wake up in this room.


    First floor: generally made up of office and administration space.


    Where things are planned out and organized, although most of that happens in the Argos division. Includes the library.


    Second floor: meeting rooms, miscellaneous storage. It’s hardly a visited floor.


    Third floor: physical training rooms


    Fourth floor: physical training hall


    Fifth floor: mental training and education


    Sixth floor: dining hall, public meeting hall


    Seventh floor: rooms (shadows)


    Eighth floor: rooms (spotters)


    Ninth floor: Generally out of bounds, unless given permission.


    This is where information about the recruits themselves is kept.


    Monitors from Argos send constant information to the receivers on this floor.


    Tenth floor: Elysian Fields - WIP


    Sub-building connected to the Requies: "Minos." Where Undesirables are dealt with.


    Ground Floor: The top floor, or floor "eleven." Pretty much a small, concealed entrance/exit to the above ground.
 
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Bathing in a sea of white,


The foamy water was warm on his skin.


He could see a stunning blue sky,


And sunlight dancing off waves.


It was amazing, the freedom he felt.


It was amazing, the loneliness it brought.


It was amazing how much he hated it.


As the tide turned, and drowned him in,


He was ready to wake up now.

​




Slowly, Samson crept into consciousness, his mind fluttering awake. He opened his eyes to an expanse of white stretched out before him. The ceiling was a blank canvas for late-night thoughts, yet a reminder of all the things he could no longer remember by morning; things that had been washed away by the tide of sleep. As he stared up, the ceiling began to feel like it was pressing down in a slow constriction of space and air. A panicked sense of claustrophobia gripped him, and Samson felt his throat contract. It was difficult to breathe. He was heaving through spoiled lungs that seemed to be coated in rust. Putting his hands to his stomach, Samson felt the motion of air in his body. It calmed him down slightly, and he blinked away the dampness in his eyes. He lay quietly for awhile; only silence keeping him company in his darkened room. The emptiness rang hollow in his ears. Everything was motionless for a few moments. However, interrupting the interlude of stillness, the camera in the upper left corner of his room flashed, the tiny red light clicking on and off. The lens adjusted, moved, focused.



Whirr. Click. Click.




Samson let his gaze wander towards the camera, and stared. Eye to glass, they were both watching each other now.


Less than a minute later, the white light above his door flashed. However, Samson remained on his bed, fixated upon the camera lens. A quiet voice on the intercom spoke, the sound echoing from all four corners of his room. “Open the door Roswell.” Samson didn’t move. He knew he didn’t need to, not when his Head had access to every room in the building. Sure enough, the door slid open by itself. Following, the lights turned on. Samson buried his face into his pillow, shielding his eyes from the sudden brightness.


He curled up tighter in his cocoon of blue bed sheets.

“Roswell, it’s past noon. You were scheduled to wake up at exactly seven,” Franco Bustos said impatiently. The head of Requies crossed his arms, his dark eyebrows furrowing in irritation. “I sent you three notifications in the last week. In case you have forgotten, you’re assigned to an important task today.” His gaze wandered to Samson’s monitor sitting on the metallic desk. It was turned off, and untouched. “…Well, I see you didn’t get my notifications,” he said, sighing. “But in any case, you need to get up now. You’ve had the week off, and that’s enough.”

There was no response from Samson. He laid still, his head hidden in his pillow.


Franco placed his hand on his forehead in exasperation, sighing deeply. “It’s important that you get up

now

, we need to be at first floor, second hall, room three in thirty minutes. This is not a game we’re playing; we have duties we need to carry out for this operation to run smoothly. Roswell, if you do not wish to partake in your part of the job, I

will

suspend you from your privileges in the next ten seconds.” He couldn’t believe he was resorting to such a juvenile punishment, but Franco held up his fingers, and began counting down, “ten…nine…eight…”

“Please, get someone else to do it,” Samson finally mumbled, putting his hands over his ears. If he had the choice, he wouldn’t want to do anything ever again, except maybe sleep and breathe a bit. He had practically spent the last week wasting away in his room. He didn’t eat, he didn’t move, he didn’t want to. He felt sick beyond what his body could take. Shutting his eyes again, he coiled himself tighter up into a ball, hoping to be alone. Suddenly, he felt a cool hand touch his back, making him flinch.

“…Roswell…You’re being re-assigned a new partner.”

Almost immediately, Samson shot up from his bed. His eyes widened in realization, his lungs disintegrating down to his gut.


It took him awhile to find his voice. “What? You promised, you gave me your word-”


“Yes, and sometimes my word is compromised,” Franco answered simply.


“You-You can’t do that,” Samson blurted out. He realized he sounded childish.


Quickly, he attempted to cover up his expression, and remain calm. He hated that Franco had caught him by surprise.

In response to the hint of anxiety that Samson had let slip from his voice, Franco’s features softened a bit, and he went to sit next to him on his bed. “Look Samson, this is not simply a matter of my choice or yours. This is what’s for the best for Meropis. You and Ilya and did a great service for Meropis, well, now you just need to do a little more for all of us. Unprecedented events call for unprecedented actions, and though it is unexpected, we still need you on duty. Samson, I need you to trust me on this.”


A thousand questions filtered through Samson’s head, though nothing made it to his lips.




‘Why now? Why deviate from standard procedure? Why use me?’


Nothing made sense to him, and he couldn’t help feel that someone had made a last minute decision on him.

When Samson failed to respond to his persuading, Franco cleared his throat, his voice growing much more serious again. “Now…I just want this process to be easy for both of us, without any…unnecessary actions or ramifications, do you understand? We would hate to have to bring…

personal

matters into this again.” His message and implications were clear enough; there was no choice to begin with. Franco had been deliberate with his wording, and was once again reminding him of his past mistakes. Before Samson could speak, Franco stood up, and patted him on the back. “Good. Get ready. Twenty minutes.” Without another word, he left the room, the door sliding closed behind him.


Samson was alone again, except now he didn’t want to be.
 
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An alarm tore Berezi from the unconsciousness that was sleep. The thick layer of blankets on top of her seemed to urge her to stay in bed. Berezi always felt that a bed was most comfortable when she needed to leave it. The beauty of her alarm system was that in order for the pulsing ringing noise to cease she had to remove herself from the comfort of her bed, walk across the room, and punch in a four digit pin to the machine that created the noise. Berezi, annoyed at herself for having installed the damned thing, threw the covers off herself and stalked across the room to where the machine lay. She entered today's date, her birthday, into the alarm clock and gave a short sigh of relief when the noise was gone. The lights flicked on immediately, making the short girl squint to get used to the sudden light. A mirror that hung on the wall opposite to her bed caught her attention. She looked at herself, seeing her sloppy mess of brown curls that sat atop her heart-shaped face.


Funny. She thought to herself, continuing to look at her sleep-riddled features. I don't look any older. Yesterday had been her last day of training. She was officially a part of the Requies now. Berezi's excitement at finally being able to go on a mission had been slightly dampened when she found out that her original partner had been swapped for a new one. And yet, a smile found it's way onto her face. She was genuinely happy that her training was complete, but, she reminded herself, she needed to be official. And to be official you needed to look official. A stern look replaced the smiling one. Now stop making faces at yourself and get dressed.


Minutes later Berezi stood conflicted at the open doors of her closet. She had always dressed in a tank top and spandex shorts. That was when there was training to complete, of the physical and mental type, and that type of clothing had not been insensible then. Now she was making a first impression. It wouldn't have been this stressful before, as the person she would've met would've been watching her for the past five years. She bit her lip and dressed in a plain pair of jeans and a light grey tank top. There had always been a pair of jeans sitting in her closet, reserved for days when there wasn't training; Berezi only had one other opportunity where wearing jeans had been acceptable.


After trying to smooth down her stubborn set of curls Berezi went over to her monitor, checking the day's activities. All she had scheduled was a meeting with her new partner. Soon, she hoped, her days would be filled with activities that involved the other parts of Meropis she hadn't seen. Which was practically everything except for the Requies building. As she left her small room she slipped on a pair of shoes. The door automatically shut behind her when she stepped into the hall. Berezi headed towards the elevators, noting the lack of others in the bare halls. When she usually left in the mornings, it was at the same time as all of the other recruits, so there would be a brief exchange of barely awake conversation. Once Berezi was in an elevator she let out a shaky breath of air, she was nervous for the meeting, but who wouldn't be? There was still hours until she actually had to be there though. So, instead of heading down to the first floor to wait, she went to the floor that held the dining hall. Her stomach didn't argue with this course of action. Once there, Berezi helped herself to a tray and set upon it a small variety of fruits and a sweet roll. The meal didn't take much of her time, as it wasn't much of a meal. Her nerves restricted her appetite.


Breakfast only took a half an hour. Berezi tried to calculate the exact time she had until the meeting while she stood in the elevator. It came to a stop at the first floor, surely there was something that could distract her until she was needed. As she walked along the spotless white floors she noted the plethora of rooms. There were hundreds, and just on the one floor. She passed offices of some executives, various meeting rooms, and then, eventually, she had come to a stop at the library. Berezi had never found time to spend in the library. Her schedule had always been strictly full, plus all of the books she had read were for her education and nothing else. Why not? She asked herself as she walked through the heavy set of double doors. The aroma of paper and dust hit her the second her foot stepped through the doorway. Berezi knew that her mouth was open, she also knew that if she didn't shut it soon she would look like a gaping idiot to anyone that laid eyes on her. The brunette quickly calmed her expression and started to walk the lengths of the shelves.


"Would you like some assistance?" A white haired man called out to her from behind a large metal desk. She whirled around to face him, although the space between them was far enough away that she couldn't read his expression. Berezi approached the desk with an easy smile.


"No, I'm just browsing." She stated, watching his face to see a bit of suspicion appear. "Although, it would be very helpful if you could point out the different sections."


At this the man finally returned her smile. "Of course!" He stood and went to walk beside her. The man pointed out what each section held. Each book was nonfiction, as books that told of fake tales were unnecessary to the Requies. There were books that held information on weapons, strategy, and especially on psychology. Berezi gazed at the tall shelves of books all around her in an almost trance-like state. She noted the lack of people in the large room. It seemed to be just her, the librarian, and a few researching students.


"Thank you for helping me." Berezi told the man with a sincere smile when the tour was finished. "Just let me know if you need help with anything else." He replied, and went back to his desk to sort through some papers.


Berezi took a reference book that spoke of various types of modern handguns off the shelf, she found a small armchair to sit in. After making herself comfortable Berezi let the hours tick by as she read about firing pins, gun barrels, and other improvements to the modern weapon. Before she knew it there was only thirty minutes until the meeting. Her heart pounded in her chest as she returned the book to it's place on the shelf, thanked the librarian again, and left the library to find where she had to be. Years of training had taught her to be fifteen minutes early to anything. There was no harm in being early. She looked down at her hand, where she had written down the hall and room number. I must look very unintelligent, walking around the halls continuously staring at that palm of my hand. She shook her negative thoughts out of her head, finally finding where she had to be. Berezi entered the room slowly, expecting someone to already be in there. But all she found was an empty white room that held a few fold-up metal chairs and a table. On the center of table there was a pot that held some sort of green plant. It was the only colorful thing in the room. She sat down in one of the chairs heaving a sigh. As soon as she sat the camera in the corner seemed to activate itself. Berezi had taken to ignoring the all-seeing eyes. She bounced her knee nervously and played with her fingers in her lap. Hopefully this wouldn't go too terribly.
 
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Twenty minutes later, Samson was exiting out of his room. He had showered, brushed his dark hair properly, and was now dressed in standard uniform; white shirt, a gray and asymmetrical high-collared jacket, and long pants. Everything was monochrome, smooth and crisp. The only presence of any design was the two metallic buttons on the right side of his chest, fastening the jacket together. He couldn’t remember the last time he wore civilian clothes. That was not a privilege he had as a spotter. There was no reason for him to, seeing as there was no reason for him to ever venture outside the Requies’ walls. He made his way down the empty corridor. As he walked, he could feel the rows of cameras all turning to watch him, the lenses digging into his back as he passed. He had the urge to scream at whoever was on the other side of them, but he kept silent, with his head low. There was a lot riding on his behavior, and he wasn’t about to test out the consequences of any misconduct.

Reaching the glass elevator, and stepping into the tube-like lift, he scanned the buttons before hitting the one for the first floor. Once again, Samson could hear the quiet whirring on the camera as it adjusted and focused on him.

‘Someone in Argos must be having fun,’

he thought bitterly. After all, they knew he hated it. He tried to divert his attention away from the camera, glancing down at the floor below him. A long time ago, the elevator had made him nervous. It was entirely made up of glass, so that he could see the Piazza, and all the floors he passed below his feet. That fear had long gone however, with the years and years of riding it. He enjoyed the feeling of slight weightlessness as the elevator traveled all the way down. It was like for a brief second, he was floating.

The elevator hit first floor, opening up to the Piazza. Barely stepping out, Samson was immediately greeted by a familiar face, with his recognizable combination of olive skin and pale blue eyes. “Roswell,” Franco said with a nod of his head.


“…Sir,” Samson replied back stiffly. On a different day, he wouldn’t have hesitated with “Franco.”


“Second hall, third room,” Franco repeated. Samson nodded absently in response.


“Here’s a hard-copy of her file,” Franco said, offering a blue folder with clipped papers inside.


But Samson shook his head, waving him off. “That’s fine, I don’t need it.” He knew nothing about his new partner, but he had no desire to learn anything from a folder. It was a poor substitute to five years of careful observation, and once again, he couldn’t fathom why procedure had changed.


“Right then, your new schedule and assignment will be sent to you by tonight,” Franco said, gesturing for Samson to walk. “Oh, and of course, you’re expected to wear your portable monitor at all times now.”

Finally, they made it to the meeting room. The door slid easily open, revealing a girl sitting in the midst of a white room, a potted plant resting in the otherwise undecorated room. Franco cleared his throat before stepping in, Samson trailing behind.


“Good afternoon, Berezi Sendoa. As you may know, my name is Franco Bustos, the head of Requies. Firstly, I would like to congratulate you on completing your training. You have graduated, and now will be working towards the application of your studies,” Franco said briskly. “As you were informed earlier, due to an unanticipated change of circumstances, you were re-paired with a higher-ranking recruit. This is Samson Roswell.”

Somewhat sheepishly, Samson nodded his head once in acknowledgement. He glanced at the girl named Berezi, doing a quick scan with his eyes, as he was accustomed to. Her face was heart-shaped, and most of her features were round and soft and...Young. What stood out most to him was her hair. It was curly in a way that he thought was funny. Once desensitized to physical differences, he was now hyperaware. However, Franco quickly resumed speaking. “Because of this…atypical position we have been put in, the operation granted to you will be taking place seven days after today, instead of the typical two. I expect by then, you will be able to effectively communicate with each other in order carry out your duties.”

“

'Atypical'

sure is way to describe this,” Samson muttered, but Franco ignored him.


“You have the afternoon free, but after dinner, you both will be expected to start collaborative training and strategy. Roswell here will be able to answer any questions you have…Roswell?”


“Uh…Yes?” Samson asked, looking up at Franco.

Franco stared at him for a second, looking sharply inquisitive. When Samson failed to respond to his glare, he sighed in exasperation and spoke. “Would you like to, perhaps, introduce yourself?"

‘No.’

“Oh. Yes. Hello,” Samson said simply before falling silent again. Franco looked like he was ready to smack him.
 
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Time passed by slowly, very slowly, so when the door opened Berezi's attention immediately changed from cleaning underneath her bitten fingernails to the two men that entered the room. She recognized the first one quickly, as he was their leader and he had given many speeches to the Requies as they went through their training. The second one she assumed to be her new partner. In a way, his appearance surprised her. He looked older than her, by at least a few years. If there hadn't been a change she knew that her partner would have been the same age as her. His attire also surprised her, her fear of dressing too casually had become reality. Berezi could already feel her nerves tightening, her body going tense as her heartbeat sounded in her ears. The stress was overwhelming, of not just receiving a new partner but knowing that he was older than her and already experienced. It would have been a little more comforting knowing that her partner would be just as new to this as she was. Now, when she didn't know how to do something or if she screwed up, it would all be her. Her new partner would probably know better. And how was he okay with this? He was an experienced officer that didn't deserve to be put with some newbie like herself.


Berezi took a slow breath in and exhaled slowly, this helped her focus on what Bustos was saying. She noted how he pronounced her name; there seemed to be two ways anybody did, and she took note of it. Berezi could be pronounced with a rounded out r or a sharp r that required a roll of the tongue. Bustos didn't roll the r in her name. She looked from the older man to Roswell, whom he had just introduced. Her dark eyes searched his face and finally rested on his own brown eyes. Berezi held the stare for a moment, then looked back at Bustos, as he was still speaking. He told her how they would need to train together since Roswell hadn't spent the last five years watching her like everyone else. She thought she heard her new partner say something, but decided against it; it seemed unlikely since he didn't seem to want to say anything to her. Berezi noted how she hadn't said a word since they had walked in either. It wasn't as if she was given the opportunity to speak in all of this though.


"Hello." Berezi returned her gaze to Roswell, a smile in her eyes but not on her face. The word sounded foreign and small on her lips, the quietness of the room was a bit awkward. Her curiosity got the best of her as she allowed herself the question she had been dying to ask. "If you don't mind me asking," She stopped looking at Roswell for the second time and returned her attention to the Requies leader. "Why did my partner change even occur? Was there something wrong with the person who was picked before?" Her tone didn't betray how she was actually feeling, nervous and anxious to know if he would tell her why. Hopefully, Roswell wouldn't take this question the wrong way. She didn't dislike him, she didn't even know him well enough to like him, but she wanted to know why there had been a change.


"Did I do something wrong?" She asked after a moment, her voice very quiet this time. Maybe Berezi had done something wrong without even realizing it, the Requies were very serious people. Berezi had only screwed up three times during her five years of training. She had accidentally given someone a bloody nose with a kick to the face during practice sparring, this accident was quickly forgiven though. During a lesson on the effects of sleep she had, very ironically, fallen asleep. And, lastly, Berezi had tried to sneak her way out of the building; of course, the elevator doors wouldn't open when she reached the floor that led to the outside, but she knew that after that day the cameras seemed to pay her extra attention. She wrung her hands together in her lap, remembering that this was an obvious sign of nervousness she stopped by folding her hands together tightly. Who was she kidding though? All of the Requies were given thorough lessons in human psychology during training. Who better to recognise her uneasy feelings than a high ranking officer and their leader? Her gaze had left Bustos' face and went to the potted plant on the table. It's container was made of glass, so the dirt and roots inside were visible to the outside. Berezi's eyes trailed along the roots as she wondered what would happen to her. Hopefully all would go as planned and she wouldn't get in trouble for asking too many questions, but thoughts of the unknown bothered Berezi deeply. She hated not knowing.
 
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Franco tilted his head slightly towards Berezi, his gaze sharp. Yet otherwise, his expression did not betray whatever lay underneath his skin. He glanced around towards Samson, staring hard at him for a brief second before turning back to Berezi. That moment of eye-contact made Samson feel slightly unnerved. Sometimes, Franco had a way of staring at people that made them feel like they had just been analyzed and examined with just one look. He opened his mouth to speak, but paused briefly, and licked his lips in contemplation. “…No, it’s unrelated to any of your possible previous actions. Unfortunately, however, we can’t discuss the reasons behind the change,” Franco finally answered. For a moment, he took in a breath, as if he was about to continue with his words. However, no explanation followed his statement, and he kept quiet, simply folding his hands in front of him. It was clear that the discussion was over, at least on his part.

That made Samson more curious, not that there had been any transparency in the operation of the Machine in the first place, but this was a very flat-out, blatant “no” – especially coming from someone like Franco. But before Samson could speak his mind, Franco had interrupted him again, this time talking in a faster pace than before. “Right then, seeing as Roswell can answer further inquiries, and that I have a conference I have to attend to in a few minutes – you are both dismissed from this meeting. Once again, I expect you shall be ready for your assignment in a week.” With a quick nod to both of them, he turned around. Promptly, without hesitation, he exited the room, the door sliding soundlessly closed behind him. The whole meeting had happened so fast, that Samson barely had time to process it. And after Franco’s uninterrupted, continuous introduction, the following silence was almost deafening.

The feeling and the meeting was quite different than when he had met Ilya. Then again, the situation was very different too. For five years he watched Ilya until he reached the age of sixteen. It had been exciting to be finally meeting someone he had spent half a decade on. He had watched as Ilya started training, learned that he wrote with his right hand, but shot firearms with his left, and that he always drank a glass of apple juice during breakfast. He had learned all his habits, observed his character, and had it all figured out by the time they did come face to face. Unlike now, the elderly head of Requies then, Sean Tolby, had made sure they had been supervised the entire day. They had been specially partnered by the Machine based on compatibility, and effort had been made so that the transition state flowed smoothly. Samson couldn’t help feel that this time around, he was getting some hastily put-together replacement…Not that anybody

could

replace Ilya.

He was quiet for a few moments; Samson didn’t know what to say. He knew nothing about the girl standing in front of him, which was a rather alien experience. He had never really had to meet anybody without having memorized at least their name, age, height, sex, weight, and blood type beforehand. It was almost disconcerting that she was close to being a complete stranger. After all, Samson was used to having easy access to a person. The concept of “getting to know” someone was foreign when he could just simply do a quick search from the Argos database. In second thought, maybe he should’ve taken her file. At least, he would feel better about the circumstances.

“So,” Samson finally started. “Here we are,” he said, gesturing around him. “Welcome to…this,” he finished somewhat lamely. The awkwardness was crippling, but he didn’t have enough energy to make himself sound enthusiastic. Excitement; what good was that feeling anyway? In a few more weeks, it would wear off and give into exhaustion. What was the use of pretending now? “So you know, don’t mess up…don’t get killed…Pretty simple stuff,” Samson said as he started to pace aimlessly around the room. What should he do next? What was he supposed to say next? Why on earth did Franco think it was a good idea to leave him alone to his own devices? “So…I don’t know. Ask me something,” he said, shrugging.
 
As the Requies leader spoke, not giving Berezi the answer she had wanted to hear at all, her attention slowly drifted away. Not so much so that she wouldn't be able to recall what he had said, but just enough so that she could gaze upon the plant on the table and identify its type. When he had finished speaking she returned her full attention to the man. He was leaving, that was no surprise. A man with so many responsibilities surely had no time for dealing with a simple partnership. When the door shut behind him Berezi let out a breath of relief. That man made her so nervous every time she was in his company. Perhaps it was his high rank that put her nerves on an all-time high, but Berezi really thought it was his unsettling demeanor. Bustos was a likeable person, most didn't mind him, but Berezi just couldn't relax in his presence. The silence that came after his leaving was almost unbearable. Should she say something? What was there to say though? 'That was weird, wanna go get a coffee so I can see if I can really trust you with my life?' Berezi shifted in her seat slightly, wishing that Samson would also sit down to make her feel less uncomfortable.


Her heart rate had finally slowed to an appropriate rate, she no longer heard the thud of blood flowing through her veins every time she took a breath. That was a good thing. Berezi was capable of calming herself with Samson in the room. At least he didn't make her nervous. Finally, he started to speak. As he welcomed her to the Requies she rose an eyebrow. The look on her face wasn't one of confusion, it was more surprise than anything else. Samson's words weren't as organized as Bustos' had been, and he paused a lot, as if unsure of himself. Bustos was an experienced leader though, Berezi had no right to compare him to Samson. When her new partner was finished speaking she stood and found that her legs were very stiff from sitting without moving for so long. She looked over at Samson to see how much of a height difference there was between them. He was taller than her by a head, at least, but Berezi was used to her small frame. It had made her sparring opponents underestimate her during training, giving her the early advantage.


"Thank you for the welcome speech." Berezi's voice was void of all sarcasm, but she still felt her statement could be taken the wrong way. "Uh, how old are you?" She asked first, getting the factual questions out of the way before anything else. The brunette looked him up and down, not hiding it in the least. Berezi bit her lip, a nasty habit she did habitually when thinking too long about something. How were they going to know each other completely in five days? Was something like that even possible? Berezi wasn't even sure if they were compatible. The Requies wouldn't have paired them if they thought otherwise. That thought gave Berezi some reassurance, but it still wasn't enough to convince her that they would work well together. Perhaps the training they had to do throughout the next week would rid Berezi of her anxiety. If they worked well together there would be no reason to worry for their future as partners.


"I'm sure you have questions as well. We can take turns asking each other things." Berezi stated simply, knowing it was the truth only because she felt so curious herself. Somehow, though, she doubted that her curiosity even matched his. He was supposed to have watched her for five years, he was supposed to know things about her that she didn't even know. She knew that they had been paired together quite recently, so that wouldn't have given Samson any time to observe her during training. But what had he been doing before? That would just be something to ask later. Now, she took a step back and scooched up onto the tabletop, it was better than the chair because it was higher up. Berezi was used to having to look up at people to talk to them, but the chair made her feel even shorter than she already was, the table, however, didn't. Hopefully whoever was watching through the camera wouldn't get upset that Berezi had chosen to sit on the table, she didn't let herself get nervous at the thought though. Her full attention was on Samson as she waited for an answer.
 
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“Twenty-two,” Samson said with a slight shrug. He paused to answer the question, but then resumed pacing back and forth across the room. He wasn’t as bothered by the age difference as he should’ve been. Then again, these days he wasn’t as bothered about anything as he should’ve been. It was a lot easier to follow instructions than to think; a lot easier to agree, than to question whatever was being handed to him. In the end, everyone learned to accept things as the way they were. His new partner soon would too. Samson glanced over at Berezi, and noticed that she seemed rather antsy and nervous. In response, he stopped pacing and stood still, leaning against the wall opposite from her.


Internally, he sighed. Five days. That wasn’t a lot of time to get a rhythm sorted out between him and that girl. Then again, Samson figured that they weren't going to be assigned anything that they couldn't handle. It was going to be a standard operation; probably just cornering down the stray citizen that had taken off his or her headband. There was no way that Franco would trust them with anything close to holding importance.That was fine by Samson. He had gotten a taste of danger, and it was not at all to his liking. Briefly, he remembered his seventeen-year-old self. He had felt that kind of young, naïve arrogance, when he believed he was invincible.


Those days were long gone, and now he felt like he could barely handle getting out of bed in the morning.


With that thought in mind, he felt a sense of hostility towards Berezi. It was unwarranted, but he couldn’t help but feel jealous of her position. He would gladly trade his years for her inexperience. Newness was a kind state, being a veteran was not. He tried to shake off the abrupt feeling. After all, there was no use for wishing for something that couldn’t happen. It was just that he was just so tired at the moment...


Samson moved from his spot on the wall to take the now vacated seat.


Looking up at Berezi, who was perched on the table, he decided to take her offer.


“Okay. First question: Why do you think we make people wear headbands? No, don’t answer that. That was a trick question. Turn through any page in a textbook, and it won’t say. Ask anybody, and they won’t say. Your new, favorite, shiny rule of conduct? This one. We don’t make people wear headbands. We don’t make people do anything. We don’t exist. Your job is to move in out of civilian life like a shadow. People do everything by choice,

because we are not real

.” He had managed to say all those words in one big breath, and was glad he had gotten that piece of unfriendly information off his chest. Of course, he could've been a little more tactful and eloquent, but the words had already tumbled out of his mouth.



No one had told him of the information he had just spewed out, at least not directly. It was just basic knowledge that made everything easier. Simple, yet unspoken. Once they got into the mindset that they were not supposed to heap tons of recognition, but rather anonymity for their work – the job became easier to do. It was the way he was taught, it was the way he figured things out, and it seemed to work fine enough. Samson shrugged, and clasped his hands together in his lap. "There you go. Moving on. It's your turn to ask a question."
 
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The age difference between them didn't seem to bother Samson, so she let it not bother her. He looked a bit older than he said he was, but there was no reason for Samson to lie about his age. Perhaps it was the serious aura he put off that made her think he was older than he actually was. The serious aura was no surprise though. Most members of the Requies that had any experience at all had a sense of superiority that made it obvious you couldn't joke around with them. Berezi lacked this mature personality trait because she hadn't actually gone out in the world yet. Textbooks and documentaries could only show a student so much, and Berezi had actually seen very little.


His question surprised her. She had been expecting something rudimentary. Like, what weapon do you prefer? Or, where do you find your weakest point is? Nothing as serious as what he asked. As Berezi listened to what he had to say, her eyebrows lowering as her confusion grew, she found that Samson's ideals were very thought out. He had already mulled over and thought about things Berezi had never even fathomed. It was impressive and a bit frightening all at the same time. What he had to say about the headbands made sense, the Requies weren't supposed to be well-known, or known at all. This had been taught to Berezi at a young age. They were the force that kept their society together, the glue that held jigsaw puzzle pieces in place but nobody could tell was there.


The headbands, however, were something that Berezi had never really thought about. The people wore them because that's what they've always done. There wasn't anything abnormal about it. The idea that the Requies made people wear them hadn't even occurred to Berezi until Samson asked her about it. Was that the case though? She understood that he was trying to make the point that everyone didn't know they existed, but if the Requies weren't there would the populace still wear the headbands? Berezi wasn't sure, and just thinking about such things made her head hurt. Her facial expression returned to it's normal state, as she was no longer confused, and she rubbed her temples lightly with her hands for a moment.


The camera's blinking light caught Berezi's eye. She was used to the constant monitoring, but now she felt as if someone were actually watching. Wasn't someone always watching though? Berezi brushed the curls out of her eyes and looked away from the camera and to Samson. She wanted to ask him about what else he had figured out over the years, but that would just make it seem like she was his student and he her teacher. No, she needed to ask him something that had bothered her since he walked in the room. "Exactly how much experience do you have?" She hadn't meant to sound suspicious, but it came out that way.


Being the partner of someone who knew more than you was intimidating. Especially since this was her very first day of not being a student. The previous day she had been practically bouncing in her chair taking the final tests that proved she was ready to go out into the field. She definitely wasn't expecting to have to wait five more days. What training exercises would they be put through to show that they could work together? Berezi hoped it was something physical. She was sick and tired of sitting around and writing or analyzing. That was more of Samson's job anyway, as a spotter he would make the decisions and Berezi would just carry them out. (OOC: I'm assuming that last part is correct?)
 
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Samson surveyed her, as Berezi slowly took in the information he had ineloquently spewed out. She seemed, well, confused, but he hoped it was just the fact she was in the process of understanding. He had no desire to explain further, or talk about more ways the gears of the Machine worked. That was all juvenile stuff he had to first learn in books. In whole honesty, he didn't quite believe the preachings as much as he should have. Quickly enough, Brerezi's expression relaxed, and her gaze came back to him. A question was formulating in her head, and he had to resist back the urge to say,

‘what?’

He was being discourteous enough the way it was.


The camera was constantly blinking in the corner of the wall. By now, even without looking at it, Samson could feel its lens directed at them; the glass eye digging into his back. He knew he had better shape up, unless he wanted another visit from Franco…Or worse, a visit from the head of Argos. It seemed like he was doing a bad enough job introducing himself. Infact, so much so that Berezi was beginning to doubt him before they had even stepped out of the room. Samson grinned slightly at her question, though. Despite the implications of the statement for himself, she seemed like a smart girl. Just because they had been paired, didn't mean they should blindly trust either.


There was a lot he could say – about his studies, the number of missions he had been on, his training.


However, he found all that junk to be rather tedious to go through. He had never been a stickler for formalities.


“Hm. I guess I have just enough,” he answered, “To not accidentally kill you.”


Those words were a lie, a false reassurance on his part. After all, hadn’t he led Ilya to his death?


He was only meeting Berezi now because he had lost his partner, because he had died and was gone and only ashes. He was a liar; then when he promised he would keep Ilya safe, and now and again when he had answered Berezi's question.


“…I have just enough to

probably

not kill you,” he rephrased after a slight pause.


The statement hung a little too heavily in the air for Samson’s taste. Trying to keep his mind from dwelling on the subject, he pushed on. Real questions this time. “Are you left handed or right handed?” He asked. Simple enough, and yet fundamental information he wanted to know. He looked back up at Berezi to wait for her answer, and noticed she was getting rather fidgety. He walked across the room, and opened the door.


“Let’s take a walk while we get talking.”
 
Berezi listened to Samson's answer to her question with interest, her eyes full of hope that he wouldn't confuse or disappoint, then frowned at the answer he gave. The frown only seemed to spread to her eyes when he elaborated. "So if I do die," She started with a small smirk on her face, "It'll only be because you want it to happen?" She leaned back on her elbows and looked up at the tiles on the ceiling while awaiting her next question. Berezi realized what she had said, and how it could be taken. "That wasn't my question by the way." She mused, looking back over at Samson before returning to her previous position.


His question came soon after the answer to his previous question. To Berezi, it seemed he didn't want to waste any time. "I'm ambidextrous." Her answer came quickly, she sat up and examined her hands as she spoke about them. "Although, I prefer to write with my left and handle weapons with my right." She wiggled her fingers out in front of her. As she did this Berezi noticed the white line that stretched along her skin, trailing from the tip of her left ring finger all the way down to just below it's knuckle. The scar barely missed the nail and was a bit jagged.


The one thing Berezi disliked about the Requies medical centers was how they healed injuries. Sure, the process was quick and practically painless, but the fixing of the injury left a mark. Every single time and no matter what type of injury. Perhaps this was because they wanted her to remember her injury and to let it not happen again, but Berezi was simply annoyed because the white lines stood out sharply against her dark skin. She didn't have many of the marks that annoyed her so much. Just a few from training mishaps.


When Samson stood to take their conversation through the halls she assumed it was because of the dull atmosphere of the room they occupied, not because of her. Berezi was grateful nevertheless. She slid off the table and went though the door that was held open for her. She didn't thank him like she should've, instead she was thinking of what she should ask him next. Nothing too odd, perhaps something as generic as his question had been.


"Have you read my file yet?" She looked over, well more like up, at him with a curious look on her face. Berezi wasn't entirely sure that he had even received her file to read in the first place, but it was very likely that he had.
 
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"Mhm," Samson hummed absently, "So try not to get in my way, because — well, you know...

poof.

" And just for emphasis he added in the gesture; his hands opening up wide as if to show the dispersal of an explosion. Technically, he meant for that to come off as a joke, but he realized that nothing in his voice had suggested any humour. For a few seconds, he thought about clarifying the fact, but he really didn't care enough to correct himself. Whatever, it never hurt to have a little bit of authority over someone.


Berezi wriggled her fingers out in front of him, and he glanced over momentarily, before facing back at the end of the hallway. He was walking in an easy stroll, almost meandering his way towards the exit. "Am-bi-dex-te-rous," he repeated slowly, stressing each syllable and stretching out the word. "That's good I guess. I mean, if you lose a hand, we won't have to waste time on training up the other one."


Samson pulled open the door leading out into the Piazza. Immediately, they were greeted with the soft ambiance of recruits wandering around and socializing. Some seemed like they had important business to attend to, while others were simply lazing about on their breaks from training or schooling. The two of them strolled around the underground plaza-like square, before Samson slowed in front of the

Fountain of Protection

. He took a seat on the edge of the marble fountain, the water gushing out from the statue of the robe-wearing man situated in the center.


"Nope," he answered, popping the "p" in the word with his lips. "Didn't really have time, didn't really feel like it. I mean, I kind of just found out about you about an hour ago, so." He shrugged a little, and then turned to look at Berezi. Again, he had the thought that her hair was kind of...

funny...

In the nicest way... "I don't really want to learn about you through a file, right?" He looked away again, and instead directed his attention towards the circle of office buildings on the first floor, contemplating his next question.


"Um, let me think, let me think..." Absentmindedly, he undid the silver clasps that fastened his jacket together and rolled up his sleeves. He was silent briefly, his hands fiddling inattentively around with the hem of his shirt. What did he want to know anyway? What did it matter?


"Okay," Samson finally piped up, "What kind of questions do you want me to ask you?"
 
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As they walked Berezi had a habit of drumming her fingers against her thighs. Samson's comment made her stop momentarily, she gave him a sharp look. She couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Probably not since he didn't smile after the fact. Was he trying to scare her? Berezi then tried to ignore the comment about one of her hands coming off. Instead of speaking she just gave him another look, not that he was watching for them anyway. She had mastered her glare throughout her years of training.


When they walked into the piazza Berezi couldn't help but look around in awe. Her admiration for the room didn't show, or at least she tried to not let it. As she looked around she saw a few familiar faces, none of whom she was too close with. She had only taken time out of her day to spend at the piazza a few times. Each visit was as uninteresting as the last. Sometimes friends dragged her along, most times she just didn't want to spend another minute in her room. Her room was where Berezi had spent most of her time when she wasn't training, she probably would've spent more time in the library if she had known it existed.


Berezi stood in front of Samson when he sat down at the fountain. She didn't want to sit anymore, and standing was much more comfortable to her than sitting. Her eyebrow rose when he answered her question. So he hadn't know about her at all? Doubt, of all things, clouded her thoughts. Berezi ignored this feeling and listened to Samson's next question. This resulted in Berezi putting on a stern expression and her hands on her hips, as if she were his superior and not the opposite.


"That's cheating." She let a moment pass before she gave an actual answer. "Ask me questions that you won't find the answer to in my file." Berezi said this matter-of-factly even though she had just thought of the answer. Her gaze lifted from Samson and travelled around the room.


"What's your favorite place?" Berezi asked suddenly, not looking at Samson.
 
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She glared at him – twice, and Samson had to stifle a laugh. He also had to resist the urge to reach over and tug on one of her curls, just to watch it spring into shape again. Instead, he sat on his hands and looked away towards the rest of the piazza. Distractedly, he watched a person in uniform balance a stack of papers in her arms.

‘Be careful of the step,’

he thought, giving her a mental warning as she neared an office door. The woman tripped anyways, but managed to catch herself with rather masterful dexterity.


Samson looked back at Berezi as she spoke, her hands on her hips. She had such a disapproving look on her face, that he wasn't sure if he was taken aback, or if he wanted to laugh at the expression. “Calm down tiger. It’s not cheating,” he answered. “It’s only the way it works. Bend the rules. Exploit the system.” There was no time to regret the words that had come out. He really wasn't the most eloquent of speakers...


“Gotcha,” he replied in response to her answer.


“My favourite place, huh? I don’t know, it’s not like I’ve been to many places, right?” Samson rarely ever left the Requies building, although he was able to visit many outside places by a monitor. He still had a few memories of pre-recruitment life swirling around in his head, but it wasn’t much to go off of. Samson remembered the feel of his home the best, however, it didn’t seem like the most appropriate answer either.


After all, it wasn’t his home anymore. He belonged to the Machine.


“I guess…This is going to sound a little dumb, but my room is my favourite place. At least in this building.”


It was now his turn to ask something...Something he would be able to find in her file...He wasn’t sure what he wanted out of her. It was strange not to have a specific objective in mind as he posed these questions. He was more used to interrogation than friendly inquiries. Samson thought briefly about asking another non-question, just to pass his turn

. ‘Oh, but I surely wouldn’t want another one of those glares,’

he thought in mock fear.


He pondered a little while longer, before an idea popped into his head.


“Okay. I’ve got a question for you. What do you think of

me

?”
 
Samson's answer to Berezi's question didn't really reveal a lot about himself, if anything it just made him seem even more like everyone else. If he would have asked her the same question as she did (which Berezi had assumed he would do since he liked to bend the rules in their simple question game) Berezi wouldn't have been able to give him an answer. It's not that she didn't like to be anywhere in the Requies' building, as she had never left it, it's just that out of all of the places she'd been none of them were to her liking. Sure she enjoyed her room, but that was because it was almost like she had to. Every room almost looked identical and they all had the same atmosphere. Her classroom, the training room, the mess hall, anywhere really. It all felt the same to her.


His next question threw her off guard a bit, but not as badly as when he had asked her about the headbands. What did she think of him? She honestly couldn't tell yet. "No opinion?" She tried with a shrug. Berezi bit her lip again and thought for a moment. "I'll actually answer the question though, because that's how we play this game." How guilty could she make him feel about that? "You're a bit pragmatic, and much too serious for my taste." The smile on her face made the somewhat insulting statements a little less hurtful. "But, that's probably because I haven't actually gotten used to the way adults act compared to my previous peers." She looked at the fountain behind Samson, the water was calming. "I guess you'll desensitize me to that sort of seriousness. I mean, we are going to have to spend a lot of time with each other. Speaking of," She changed the subject, not wanting Samson to be angry with her for not sugar-coating the truth, "Do you have any idea what sort of training they're going to put us through?"


He would know, right? That thought brought up a relevant question: Did he have a partner already? If so, where were they? She couldn't assume such things though, for all she knew she was his first partner and he was going through exactly what Berezi was. It didn't seem logical, but it wasn't impossible. Just like their partnership, it was logical but it had still happened.


She sighed and finally sat down on the fountain ledge next to Samson. As her eyes traveled around the room she felt the occassional water droplet land on her back, it would've been bothersome if the water landing on her back was cold. She looked over at Samson. "I hope it's not too much. Maybe just enough for us to get acquainted with each other's habits and thought processes."
 
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“Am I now?” Samson replied, a hint of amusement colouring his voice. He had a history of being punished for his leniency…With Ilya especially. Too many times he had cut class and skipped lessons to be with his partner – to camp out on floor eleven to watch the sky through the glass ceiling, to sneak into each other’s rooms in the middle of the night, to talk about things outside of

missions

and

training

and

rules.

(He had never been good at following rules, not even in things as simple as a question game.) Of course, over the years, the idea of

mercy

had

hesitation

had been beaten out of him in the form of a whip – and then in the form of his own unrelenting need to

protect Ilya

.


But in the end, he had failed, hadn’t he? He hadn’t been careful or perfect or ruthless enough.


And this time, it hurt much worse than the sting of a lash. It was a pain that would not leave him alone.


Then perhaps it was for the best that he was properly serious now.


Abruptly, Samson pulled himself out from the tunnel of dark thoughts formulating in the back of his head.


Not here, not now. He would not allow himself the liberty of a breakdown. Slowly, his eyes moved back up to meet Berezi’s.


He still had one more job to take care of.


“…Training,” he repeated slowly, “Well, training hasn’t really been designed for our situation, has it? Normally, we’d do blind-folded combat simulations right away…That is to say, I get to be your eyes for a little while. But, I kind of doubt we’ll be on that today. You’ll probably get obliterated – no offense.” He shrugged slightly after finishing speaking. “Anyways, you don’t need to worry about training right now. We still have about ten minutes of freedom…And then it’s missions until one of us dies.” Samson laughed at his own comment.


But he wasn't sure why. And it wasn’t funny. And he felt sick.


He slid off of the edge of the fountain and onto his feet, (as if standing would help him feel more grounded to the earth.) “We should start walking up now. I suppose one more question each before we put a halt to our interesting game.” In truth, he did not want to want to stay here any longer. Every moment he had to think deeply, his thoughts would always wander down some god-forsaken path. He tried to focus his attention on something else, on another topic, on a good question to ask. Anything else.


Ultimately, nothing came to him, and the fundamental reason lay in that he was

bad

at questions. He was used to learning people by observation, never by words or files. However, they didn't have the time for him to spend hours working out the gears of her head, unspooling the coils of her brain. And likewise, they didn't have the time for her to learn to trust him. He would have to enforce that idea of trust onto Berezi in the next few days – whether she liked it or not.


Still, there

was

something very simple, very basic that he had to say to her. So after a pause, Samson very deliberately leaned in towards Berezi’s ear, his hands cupped around his mouth. “Do you think you’re ready?” He whispered, as if his words were held some sort of sacred secret. He moved back, crossing his arms. “Don’t answer now, just think about it.”


She would need some time.


“Hmm. Well, lucky you, I guess you get the last word this time," he said, "Shoot away, it better be a good question.”



But the better question was whether or not he would even have an answer.
 
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Samson’s answer to her question didn’t gain Berezi much insight. It looked like he was just about as clueless to their partnership as he was. She wondered what it would feel like to be in his position. If she were the more experienced of the two she would probably be talking about all the things she had done when she had first been assigned a partner. But Berezi couldn’t blame Samson for not talking about that because she didn’t know if he had even had a partner in the first place. She was assuming too much about him, even if her thoughts were mere guesses. She mentally halted from making any more assumptions about Samson. If she stopped doing that she would have a ton of questions for Samson, adding onto the ones she already had.


Then Samson asked something she couldn’t answer. Was she ready? Berezi had to think for a moment. That morning she had woken up with more spirit than she had on any other day, in that moment she knew she was ready. Now she wasn’t so sure. Was it the fact that Samson was her partner, or the utter realization of how dangerous the career she was training for was that made her realize that she wasn’t as prepared as she thought? She had finished her basic training, which had been a surge of self confidence to Berezi, but now she just felt so ... adequate. She felt incapable for the career path chosen for her and nervous about the future.


It wasn’t like Berezi didn’t want to do her job anymore. It wasn’t that at all. She was so excited to go out and see the city for all it was. Her excitement flooded her thoughts at times, and during those moments all she could think about was seeing life as everyone experienced it. The people whose responsibilities couldn’t compare to even the lowliest of the Requies employees. Berezi just couldn’t help but be a bit nervous for her first day, if it really was as dangerous as Samson kept commenting on how it was she had a good reason to be.


“Do you think that the only reason we were paired together was to see what the psychological effects would be on our partnership?” Berezi stood with Samson and they started to walk toward the elevator. As soon as she asked the question she felt the camera lens focus on her. Even though they were in a large room Berezi knew that’s what happened. The Requies didn’t like it when they were being talked about, even if those talking were Requies themselves.


As they walked and Berezi waited for a reply she looked around at the surrounding faces. As she glanced at the various people something clicked in her brain and a sudden surge of recognition came to her. She spotted a previous peer. They waved to her from across the room, not bothering to approach her, but at least they gave her a friendly gesture. Berezi waved back with a smile. As soon as the person that waved to her left, Berezi’s smile fell into a frown.


Berezi liked her classmates but at the same time she didn’t. She preferred solace to hanging out with a group of friends. Save for a few people at a time. As Berezi’s independence developed as her training furthered Berezi always told herself that no matter what, her partner would be her friend. Why would she put her life in the hands of someone she didn’t even like? So, there was always that open spot in Berezi’s life that she just assumed her partner would fill. Could Samson do that?
 
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“Do you think that the only reason we were paired together was to see what the psychological effects would be on our partnership?”

She said. Even without looking, Samson could feel the cameras re-shifting focus. Although it was too loud to hear in the open space, the familiar soft whirring and clicking sound played through his memory like a rewound tape. He was no stranger to be closely monitored – the stuff coming out of his mouth often straddled the invisible line of

what was allowed to be said.

He was pretty deliberate at times; rules were never his sort of thing to follow closely. But what surprised him the most was that Berezi had said it first – not him, not anyone else. She, who had accused of him at cheating at a simple game only minutes before. Samson had her pegged as a stickler for rules and customs. But maybe not. Either she was kind of brilliant in observation or extraordinarily stupid. He hoped for the former.


Berezi waved at someone, and his eyes followed out in the direction she was gesturing at. Samson looked back at her, just in time to catch the falter in her expression. The smile that had been maintained was quickly replaced by a frown. He wondered at that for awhile, unsure of what she was thinking in that

(curly, very curly)

head of hers. That was a sure strange thing, to not have the slightest inkling what was going on in your partner’s mind. They were supposed to wear each other’s lives as their own, but here, they barely knew anything about one another.


He stared at her for a few seconds longer, before going to back to considering her question. Truth to be told, he wasn’t sure of what kind of answer to give

(not that he was going to let her know that.)

A psychological experiment did seem like something The Machine would throw together, and perhaps they were just the unlucky lab rats who had been chosen as the subjects. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Who knew for sure how the whole operation worked? They were all just pawns after all, nothing more. Samson knew that.


He could feel the camera watching and waiting for an answer.


“We…” Samson started slowly, “All have a part to play in the Requies, and we all have a part to play in The Machine. There could be a lot of reasons as to why they thought this was gonna be a good idea. Maybe they just all want to have a laugh – like oh look, let’s screw up a partnership majorly and change protocol because why not? Chuckles all around!” He grinned, but again without much humour or reason. It was supposed to be a joke of some sort

(that’s all he seemed to have done today – make nonsensical, un-funny jokes about losing hands or death or the Requies),

but the certain acidity in his voice made it fall flat.

As always.


Shrugging a bit, Samson carried on walking, increasing his pace slightly. Whatever that was going to happen in their partnership, they were about to figure it how it was going to go down in a few minute’s time. “Come on now,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “We’ve got to make it to the fourth floor. You know, don’t want to be late on this first

fan-darn-tastic

day.”
 
Berezi couldn't help the growing annoyance she held for the cameras. They were the eyes for the higher officials, to make sure nothing went wrong. The constant feed also went to the machine so it could use its highly advanced computers to predict any mishaps. Perhaps if Berezi, being the saint that she is, said something that went against the Requies, would the machine make a prediction that she would turn against them? She didn't want to find out, but it was a question that provoked her curiosity. She felt like she was breaking the rules just thinking about such things, but that's who she is. An odd mixture of following and breaking the rules simultaneously. Berezi held a certain degree of respect for the rules, but they were also very limiting. She felt like she couldn't do anything without someone else's permission, and even when she could do things on her own terms, like now for instance, it was only because someone else decided that she should get an hour of free time. The whole act of calling it free time was also incorrect because there were only a few places that she could actually go.


"...Chuckles all around!" His joke wasn't the best, but it still made her half smile. She looked away before he could see that his terrible sense of humor was getting to her. They were partners, he would find out that his jokes were a tad bit funny to Berezi, just not yet. "You may need a better sense of humor," She joked, "It's not that bad though, better than mine. Seeing as how I don't even have one."


They made it to the elevator, and when they got inside Berezi pushed the button for the fourth floor. "Oh, I'm never late to anything." She told him with a hint of a smile. Berezi wasn't bragging, she just couldn't stand being late to anything. As the elevator rose she looked out the side of the glass wall, watching the people walk out about below them. "I used to be terrified of heights." She admitted to Samson. Berezi turned to look at him, no sign of fear on her face. "And then I faced the facts, who would ever send a girl out on an assignment that couldn't even stand being in a glass elevator. Fear is ridiculous, at one point I just thought they should remove my amygdala." That was a joke, an example of her far worse sense of humor. There had only been a fear cases of people without an amygdala, the center for strong emotions in the brain, and those people were like robots. They couldn't feel much, and they lacked the basic fear in humans that kept them alive. Berezi chewed her bottom lip as they waited for the elevator to reach its destination.


[beautiful gif by the way, hopefully you won't have to use many (or any) more.]
 
Last edited by a moderator:
She was…

had been

afraid of heights. It was a comical thing, seeing as they were all underground. Logically speaking, the highest they could possibly go was towards the surface, and no matter how long the glass elevator stretched up, they were only ever confined to a life concealed in dirt. Well it was a sure-fine thing that she had gotten over that fear. Berezi would have to spend the rest of her life doing missions up top. But then again, the higher officials had always known that, hadn’t they?


“Huh. Hilarious,” he said in response to her ‘joke’, “A-plus effort…Might funnier if it wasn’t the truth though.”


To Samson, it was a wonder that The Machine hadn’t already started scrapping the temporal lobes of every person recruited to their division. After all, they’d be terrific members of the Requies with a little alteration beyond into what was considered human.

Too bad it also killed the survival instinct.

Without a fear of death, it was inevitable that people were going to do stupidly daring things – leaping head-first into the chasm of death – and there wasn’t nearly enough members to supply the demand for what were essentially robot soldiers.

Too bad.

The Requies would just have to make-do with them regular folk.




(Sarcasm seemed to colour most of his thoughts today.)


The elevator doors slid open as they arrived on the fourth floor.


“You said you’re never late, right? Well we’re going to be in about…three minutes,” Samson announced, checking the time on the portable monitor tucked in his pocket. Hesitating for a moment, he strapped the watch-like band onto his wrist. Just as he had thought he was free from the thing after four years – apparently he wasn’t. A hand-cuff, a chain, a prison; it was also the linking piece to the outside world.


He walked briskly down the training hall, passing countless recruits who were running tests and doing exercises. In terms of physical training, he had only scratched the surface like most Spotters. Samson only had to maintain a good health and regular diet to be deemed fit for work. However, he had watched Ilya train before,

and it seemed like hell –

especially to someone that sat on his ass all day, building tactics and reading up on things such as “A System Of Human Anatomy: Including Its Medical And Surgical Relations.” And yet, his partner had breezed through those obstacle courses like a walk in the park.


“Sammy!” The cheerful voice came somewhere behind him. Samson stopped walking. There was probably only one person in the entire world that call him by any sort of nickname. He turned around to see Clio.


“Hiyamanohgoshit’sbeenwaytoolongandguesswhat?I’myourpartneredtraininginstructormhmgotthejoblastmonth.” She said it all in one rapid breath, and it took the longest time for him to sort out her rush of words. Before he had much of a time to respond, Clio bounced up to Berezi, her green eyes wide with curiosity. “Oh wow, you must be Berezi Sendoa! Really excellent at sparring. Heard you broke someone’s nose, huh?”
 
"Well let's hurry up then," She urged Samson, the thought of them showing up late made Berezi's stomach do somersaults. Her short legs kept up with Samson's pace, which was a bit quick to her but normal to him. Her height wasn't a disadvantage, at least she kept telling herself that. Berezi could easily allow the enemy to underestimate her, all she had to do was put on a scared face and her age physically lessened by five years. She could easily make herself look like a child, not that she was much of an adult in the first place.


As they walked down the hall, the sounds of training could be heard on either side of them. Berezi was comfortable in this setting, she had trained in this hall for a good portion of her life. This type of physical training wasn't like a work out to her, it was more of a stress reducer. Plus the release of endorphins was definitely a mood booster. She assumed that Samson wouldn't have as much physical strength as she did, only because he was forced to stay fit while she was forced to improve upon herself periodically. Just as he didn't receive as much physical training Berezi didn't receive as much psychological training. She could operate in the field, or so she hoped, and make quick decisions, but she couldn't strategize as well as Samson probably could.


The thought of going back to training was both a burden and a blessing. She wouldn't have to endure the anxiety of a field mission yet and she could get used to Samson as a partner, but she had to go back to the part of her life that she thought she had completed.


A voice brought her out of her thoughtful reverie. "Sammy?" Berezi immediately questioned, accidentally saying it out loud in a hushed voice. There was a small smirk on her face as she watched the interaction between this person and Samson. Before Samson even had a moment to respond to her she had already moved onto Berezi. It took Berezi a moment to realize that the second part of dialogue was directed at her. Berezi had this look on her face that read 'you're talking to me?' before she could think of a reply. "I'm sure you're aware that the incident you're speaking of happened five years ago and it was an accident." There was no malice in her voice, but she definitely didn't sound the most welcoming. Berezi didn't like to talk about things in her past that she didn't bring up herself, especially the incident where she accidentally broke a guy's nose.


The guy who's nose she broke also happened to become one of her friends. He was a very forgiving person and had even asked her to help him with his lower body workouts. This reminded Berezi not to be so rude. She threw on a smile as if it were a garment of clothing, "Anyway, since you already seem to know who I am, may I ask your name?"
 
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