PART 1: VINCENT – Chapter 11

CONTAINS CONTENT:

Sensitive material

Both Austin and Marielle drank their water quickly, relishing how it quenched their thirst even though they knew Vincent was in much worse shape. Marielle imagined his tongue swelling with thirst and his stomach rolling with hunger, although he probably felt them only when there was a small break in the merciless torture being thrust upon him. Pain had a way of overcoming all other sensations. 

Wei Ling continued to heal him at intervals while Erik and several others kept torturing him in various ways, including using Sasha’s shock arrows.

“Again,” Liam would say, and Wei Ling would kneel before him, look up into his eyes compassionately, and touch him sweetly on the sides of his face or his broken ribs, giving him the relief Marielle knew he wanted somewhere deep inside. Although he didn’t react to the pain, he occasionally met Wei Ling’s gaze and responded with a relieved sigh. 

“What’s he doing this for? Why doesn’t he just give in and say why he’s here?” Austin said under his breath.

Marielle turned away again, unable to watch anymore. “I don’t know,” she whispered.

Another hour passed. At 6:30, Liam called a time-out. “Give him thirty minutes to let him think about all of this.” He turned. “Wei Ling, stay with him. Give him water and a piece of bread.”

She nodded once, and everyone shuffled out, leaving the two of them alone. Wei Ling’s eyes followed Sasha. After a beat, she knelt in front of Vincent and put a bottle of water to his lips. 

“There,” she whispered, combing through his hair and brushing it back from his eyes. He drank quietly, a subtle look of peace coming over his face. “You will not like what they’re going to do to you next. Talk to me,” she pleaded, and the sincerity in her voice was heartbreaking.

Marielle’s stomach was in knots. “She’s trying to crack him.”

“Of course,” Austin said, taking the final swig of his water and tossing the bottle into a nearby trash can. Then he was right back beside Marielle, his hand dangling near hers in case she needed to take it. “It’s a good interrogation tactic: leave him with the only one who’s had compassion on him this whole time, get him to trust her and believe she’s his only relief. It builds a bond.” Austin rubbed his right arm with his left hand. 

“Do you think he’ll talk?”

Austin shook his head. “He’s smarter than that. He knows what they’re doing.”

Wei Ling cupped Vincent’s left cheek, staring into his brown eyes. “Please talk to me… I don’t want you to go through this.”

“I know what they’re going to do,” Vincent replied.

“You do?” He didn’t respond, and she tenderly stroked him. “Why won’t you just talk? Help me understand,” she breathed, her tone almost sensual but more motherly. “I want to help you.”

Marielle sank back against the wall as Wei Ling gave him more water, then slowly poured some over his bloodstained, sweat-soaked body. Vincent let his head roll back and breathed deeply and evenly for a few moments, sighing with relief. 

“How do we get those things out of him?” Austin wondered aloud, staring at Vincent’s golden tattoos.

Marielle glanced at him from the corner of her eyes, trying to detect whether or not there was some hidden meaning in this strange statement. Maybe he hadn’t intended to say it out loud, or maybe it was nothing and she was just exhausted, which seemed the most likely. 

“You can’t.” She cleared her throat. “He was telling me about them before we were attacked. They’re nanotech, coded to him specifically. You can’t just pull them out.” Sighing, she rubbed the sides of her temples with her fingertips. “So if that’s what they want out of him, they’re going to fail unless they do kill him.”

Austin turned away from her, and after a few moments she realized he was looking off toward the morgue. “Well, they obviously want to know about our ‘friends’ as well.’” He gestured upward with his head, indicating the four corpses that were now in the morgue.

“How much time do we have before they come back?” Marielle asked.

Austin looked at his watch. “Twenty-five minutes,” he said.

“Let’s go visit them,” she said quickly, drawing away from the window and heading toward the stairwell. “I think we could learn a lot from them even though they can’t speak, wouldn’t you say?”

Austin’s steps picked up as he realized what she was getting at and he ran after her. 

When Marielle and Austin reached the morgue, they were met by Kiritani, the Japanese agent who was guarding the room. Kiritani’s agent name was Yoru, but Marielle didn’t know much else about him. He often missed their appointments, but some of the excuses he’d given her were valid, so she wasn’t sure whether it was on purpose or accident. He was a quiet, secretive man with a threatening appearance and blue streaks in his dark hair who had been with Valorant for only two years. His abilities dealt with deception and teleportation, and he could briefly create a visual double of himself. His skill in hand-to-hand combat and weaponry made him a good choice for a guard.

He raised a hand to stop them from entering the morgue. 

“Listen, I know it’s not protocol, okay? But we think we can read something off the bodies,” Marielle said.

Austin nodded his agreement and raised his left hand outward, then dropped it as if to shrug.

Kiritani opened the door and peered in. “Will you receive Dr. Chaenes and Dr. Rancor?”

“Yeah, I could use their opinion on something, actually,” came a lovely feminine voice rich with an Australian accent.

Kiritani stepped aside and waved them in, then turned back to the hall to keep watch.

Upon entering, Marielle nodded at Klara, who was nearest to them, standing over her own double and inspecting something in her hair with a large microscope strapped to a wiry-looking hat. When she glanced at them and nodded, her left eye looked enormous and distorted through the lens. Near this body lay the blonde woman, Iselin, then Jamie, and lastly, near the end of the room, Sasha.

Marielle and Austin walked past her to where Kirra stood at the back of the room near a window. She removed some white latex gloves as she pulled away from the microscope slide she had been examining. She turned to smile at them, but the expression died quickly on her mouth. 

Kirra Foster mystified Marielle, and she could tell by the look Austin gave her that she mystified him too, at least in the feminine way. She had lovely green eyes and fiery red hair which she often wore in a long braid down her back. Her radianite powers reflected her love for animals in many ways. She possessed a special Tasmanian tiger trinket that she could use to hunt, seek, and destroy via a concussive blast. She even had a healing ability as well, although Marielle wasn’t too familiar with the details. What she did know was that Kirra could heal others, but not herself. Kirra was sweet, and just as Austin obviously thought she was beautiful, she was checking him out as well.

“We were wondering if we could poke around a bit,” Austin said with a winning smile. You know, try and discover what they are.”

Kirra stood and gestured to the Sasha double. “Well, this one died first, then Jamie and the blonde woman.” She waved to the remaining corpse. “Finally, Klara died just moments after we brought her in.”

Klara’s eyes widened, and she looked up at Kirra. “She was still alive when she came in?”

“Barely,” Kirra replied, sliding her gloves into the pocket of her white lab coat. 

Austin shot a confused look at Kirra. “If she was still alive, why you didn’t heal her?”

Kirra sighed. “There wasn’t enough there. I tried.” She shook her head. “You have to remember that many of us need the right amount of energy and strength in order to completely heal or resurrect someone, just like Wei Ling. You can’t understand because you don’t have abilities, and it would be difficult to explain.”

Austin gave Marielle a meaningful look, and they both remained silent for a moment. “Well, you got me there,” he said under his breath, glancing around the room.

Klara looked back down at her double. “Strong one.”

“Well, she was you, and you’re pretty strong,” Marielle noted, her gaze roaming over the four bodies.

“In spirit, I’d like to think,” Klara replied, adjusting her green beanie so it didn’t fall into her eyes.

“She was also shot last. Vincent”—Kirra side-eyed Marielle—“shot Jamie and the blonde woman as well as Klara.”

“He called her Iselin,” Marielle interjected.

Kirra nodded and put her hands in her pockets. “I don’t know who she is, but the others are obviously… copies?” She struggled for a word as she turned and rinsed her hands off. “Parallels? Doppelgangers? I don’t know.”

“They look like us, but are they us?” Klara looked up at them again. “I have so many questions…”

“What did you see in their DNA? Are they clones?” Austin asked, nodding to the microscope.

“That’s the funny thing. The specimens are too perfect for cloning.” Kirra sighed and brushed some of her red hair back from her face. “They are us.” She paused. “Or three of them are, anyway.” 

Marielle drummed her lip in thought. “Dr. Rancor and I were wondering if we could have a few minutes, you know, alone with them?” She nodded at the Jamie double. “To try and ascertain anything… anything Vincent isn’t telling us.” 

Austin leaned against Marielle’s side, crossing his arms over his chest and his feet at the ankles as though silently claiming her as his partner in crime. She stepped away and he nearly stumbled, then caught himself. She wasn’t sure if this show was for her or Kirra, but it was definitely meant to be attractive. However, it came off as hilarious. If Marielle hadn’t been so focused, she would have laughed at him.

Kirra nodded. “I could use a coffee break.” She put her coat aside and touched Klara on the shoulder. “Come on,” she said, nodding to the door. Klara took her magnifier helmet off. “You guys know the rules. Don’t move the bodies around in any way, don’t cut them or mar their skin. If you touch, do it gently, and make sure to wear gloves.” 

Kirra pointed at the glove box, then led Klara to the door. “Fifteen minutes,” she added as she pressed a button on her watch—presumably a timer—and locked them in.

Both Austin and Marielle heard a brief conversation beyond the door as Kirra gave instructions to Kiritani. Then it was silent. 

Austin walked around Klara’s dead form, knuckles to his chin in thought. “This is incredibly un-sexy,” he said with a sigh and a flick of his blue eyes to Marielle.

“Well, I’m glad,” Marielle replied flatly.

“What’s the plan here?”

“Study them,” Marielle replied, looking Sasha over. She put on a pair of powder-coated gloves and lifted his hand, holding it for a moment in her own. She closed her eyes as if trying to listen. “What do you want to tell me?” She felt along Sasha’s arm with her other hand, then gently laid it back alongside his body. 

“I don’t think he’s going to play twenty-five questions with you.”

Marielle flashed Austin a look that said “don’t be a smartass” before going over to Iselin and examining her. 

“Hey, Chamber,” she said in a low voice, stroking her bottom lip in thought.

“What?” Austin turned to her.

Her eyes zeroed in on Iselin. “That’s what she said. ‘Hey, Chamber…’ It was like she knew him.”

Austin took a step closer to Marielle and glanced at Iselin, then looked back at her. “Roll with that?”

She nodded, then began trying on different tones. “Hey, Chamber.” That was casual. 

She cocked her head. “Hey, Chamber.” A joke. 

“Hey… Chamber.” Like Iselin was trying to get his attention. No. Sexual?

“Hey, Chamber.” She rolled her head back between her shoulders, exposing her long neck. 

Austin froze, eyes growing humorously wide in interest. A salacious half smirk spread over the left side of his handsome mouth, and he groaned. “Oh, there’s an image I’m going to have stuck in my head for the next few days.” 

Marielle repeated it again, leaning even more into the sensuous sound. 

“I have to say, I like your method. Just keep it up, just keep it…” His voice trailed off as he watched her, grinning.

She ignored him. “Hey, Chamber,” she growled in annoyance. She tried it about ten different ways until it sounded just the way Iselin had said it. 

Marielle opened her eyes. “She hated him. I don’t know what kind of history they had or what he did to her, but he disgusted her.”

“Romantic?” Austin ventured.

She shook her head. “No, she was too repulsed by him for that.”

“Isn’t that what happens when people break up?”

“No, that’s contempt, jealousy, bitterness… not disgust. She was too disgusted with him to have ever loved him.” 

She paused, then closed her eyes again. “Austin, watch the time,” she whispered.

“Okay.” 

Marielle took a deep breath. A blur went through her mind, clouding everything and softening the edges around her thoughts. She worked with it until images of the battle in the courtyard became clear. As she replayed the event in her head, she forced her breathing to stay slow and even, repeating the entire dialogue that had occurred during the fight out loud. Austin watched, enthralled.

Marielle stopped suddenly and exhaled a shaky breath, as if coming out of a nightmare. In a way, she felt like she was.

“Wow,” Austin said quietly. “Your memory is…”

“Yeah, I can do that every time,” she replied, sighing and looking down. “It takes a lot out of me, though.”

“Because it’s part of your abilities, like I said.”

She shrugged, uncertain whether or not he was right. “I don’t know why—I couldn’t begin to guess at it—but they were here for me.”

“For you?”

“It was a kidnapping attempt, and Vincent seemed to know that. He told me to listen to everything he said… He told me to get back and watch for a flanking maneuver. Then that cocoon thing she deployed…” Marielle nodded to Iselin. “They were trying to take me.”

“Because you’re… pretty?” It was obviously a joke. 

“Right, but they came from… the future? The past? The…” Her voice trailed off, and she tapped the metal table where Iselin’s body lay, trying to work things out in her mind. “And honestly, if they’re doubles, then I probably exist wherever they came from, too.”

“What about her?”

“She must be from… somewhere.” Marielle shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not often that I feel this lost.” 

She went to lean against the window that overlooked the far left side of the courtyard. She couldn’t see the fountain or the spot where she and Vincent had sat earlier, but she could just barely make out the statue of the woman trying to take flight.

“I haven’t asked yet. Are you okay?” Austin ventured, wandering a bit closer to her. Feeling his all-consuming presence just behind her, she shrugged one shoulder but didn’t look at him. “That was… horrifying.”

“Certainly less horrifying than what Vincent’s going through. I’m not going to leave here until they stop,” she growled. Her stomach felt tight and open at the same time—tight from nerves, open from hunger. She hadn’t eaten since the small bit of fried sole she’d had while talking to Vincent.

“Can we drink at least? He drank not that long ago.” She nodded, knowing that not only were Austin’s words true, but that they both needed it. “I’ll go get us a coffee.”

“Austin.” She turned to stop him halfway out. “Two creams, three—”

“Three sugars, I know.”  He gave her a soft smile and left the room.

Marielle’s mind drifted back to Vincent. Austin returned with a little paper cup full of coffee, cream, and sugar before she’d hardly even registered the fact that he’d left at all. 

“They’re coming back,” he whispered, taking a sip after blowing into his cup.

Kirra and Klara re-entered the room. Marielle turned to them and smiled, unsuccessfully trying to hide how tired and beaten down she felt. “Thank you,” she said, setting the cup down without drinking from it. Then she left the morgue with Austin right behind her.

Halfway down the steps, Austin seemed to realize that she’d ignored the coffee. “You didn’t drink any of that,” he noted, their shoes echoing in the stairwell.

“I didn’t feel like it.”

They went back to the observation window. “Marielle, you need to drink.” He offered her his cup.

“It’s not how I like it—”

He cut her off again. “It is.” 

Exasperated, she exhaled and took a small sip. She glanced at him, wondering if he’d made his coffee the way she liked it because he’d known she would resist her own, or if he also liked his this way. 

“Come on, have some more,” he insisted, pushing it back to her mouth gently. 

She sipped a few more times and gave it back to him, shaking her head once. He drank with a heavy sigh. 

Both of them looked in at Vincent. Wei Ling was feeding him a little bread and giving him another drink. He maintained his strong silence, barely even acknowledging her. Wei Ling, for her part, looked nervous for him. She stood, twisting her hands together as her eyes darted around the room.

“You never answered me,” Austin finally whispered. “How are you doing?”

Marielle closed her eyes tightly for a moment. “I’m…” She couldn’t get any more out for several minutes. Finally, she rubbed her face and said, “It’s fine,” signaling the end of the conversation.

Liam, Barbara, and the others returned from their own break and stood along the wall, not acknowledging either of them. It wasn’t the first time Marielle had felt like the black sheep at Valorant, but it was the most difficult.

Austin turned toward the kitchen, presumably considering getting the two of them some food since Vincent had been allowed a little bread. Before he could take a single step, however, the stairwell door opened seemingly on its own. Austin cocked his head to the side as if his eyes were playing tricks on him, then took a quick step back in obvious fear. Just beyond the open doorway, something terrifying and dark filled the space. 

“It’s Hazal,” Marielle stated in despair, turning to lean against the wall with a heavy sigh.

Austin went to stand with Marielle as a hooded female figure stepped out of the stairwell and approached them. Marielle knew she wasn’t floating, although she appeared to be. Shadow, wisps of dark smoke, and ash surrounded her.

Hazal moved toward the door of the interrogation room and opened it, a single red eye jerking toward the two of them, then flicking away. Austin lurched back. 

Wei Ling touched Vincent’s face, then quickly left the room, avoiding eye contact with Hazal. Now, he was alone with the witch, whose abilities hinged on fear. She removed her hood and stared at him for a few moments, rubbing her hands expectantly. 

Hazal was beautiful. Her olive skin was blemish-free, her cheekbones well-defined. Heavy black eye shadow surrounded both her red eye and her blue eye. Her lips were charcoal-gray, and a large henna tattoo split her upper and lower face.

“You will face your worst fears,” she breathed, and her voice seemed to come from all directions at once.

Vincent looked up, acknowledging her. This shocked Marielle, and she was shocked even further when he said, “Oh, honey… I’ve already done that, and I’ve lived to tell the tale.” Another wry smile, right into Hazal’s eyes. “Fais de ton pire.”

“Don’t watch, Marielle,” Austin said, turning her away and making a feeble attempt at covering her eyes. “Just don’t watch.”

Thick darkness filled the interrogation room, and Marielle buried her face in Austin’s chest, as if trying to block out something but unable to do so. For the first time, Vincent reacted to the torture he was going through, and it wasn’t a soft whimper or small noise. It was a shriek of terror… followed quickly by another.

Austin stepped away from the window, putting his fingers around Marielle’s wrist and gently urging her away. “Come with me.” 

He led her to the stairwell. As they went, she glared at Liam, with whom she’d avoided eye contact until now. In fact, she’d barely acknowledged anyone but Austin, and most of them had returned the favor. Sasha still looked dazed and confused from the entire affair, tension set in his jaw. 

“You can stop this,” she growled at Liam as Austin continued to move her along. “Let him talk to me.”

“He can tell me that with his own mouth. Until then, I’m going to assume something else is going on,” Liam replied with a strong nod.

Marielle felt the disdain she’d had for him when she’d arrived at Valorant over five years ago coming back. Her expression hardened and fixated on nothing in particular as Austin helped her to the stairwell, giving the space a brief, cautious glance before they entered. 

He led her upstairs to a room on the second floor that had a long, U-shaped couch and a large television on the wall. He sat her on the softer side of the couch and turned the TV on, then glanced out the window. The sun was going down, and they were probably in for a long night.

He came and sat beside her, but not so close as to make her uncomfortable, which Marielle appreciated. Then he turned toward her so that his cheek was resting on back of the couch, where he appeared to drift in and out of consciousness for a few minutes. She doubted that severe hunger and an uncomfortable couch were his preferred bedmates.  

Austin looked over at Marielle around 8:30. She was still awake, staring out the window.

“Okay.” He sat up, raking his dark, wavy hair back from his blue eyes. “Marielle, you don’t like this guy. You’re in love with him.”

“That’s crazy,” she protested, refusing to look at him.

“Maybe… But so is love, I guess,” he replied, looking away. “Either way, maybe you’re romanticizing Vincent just a little much right now.”

She was silent for a few moments, eyes locked on the sky outside. Maybe she was. “I feel close to him. I don’t know why.”

“You’ve only known him for a few days,” Austin pointed out, “and during that time he’s lied to you repeatedly.”

Marielle sighed. “Yeah, and didn’t you tell me that you married someone you’d only known for a few days?”

Direct hit. He clamped his mouth shut and looked down. “My mistake,” he sighed.

“What was her name?” she asked.

He turned away from her and stared at the wall, which was presently reflecting the light from the television. “Erin.”

“Would you ever want to go back to her?”

He didn’t move. “She’s remarried,” he replied quickly and distantly.

Marielle felt in that moment that she knew and understood him better than she had to date. He had opened up to his wife over something that he considered… personal? A struggle? A desire? Something he just wanted to share because she was his wife and he wanted to be honest? And in his honesty, she had left him over it. He wanted truth, but now feared the intimacy and connection he’d lost. His new outlook was total honesty, all cards on the table, no deep connections. Especially if someone didn’t accept him for who he was.

“I’m sorry, Austin.”

He shrugged absently, as if it meant nothing. False. It did. But what? She wasn’t sure. Somehow, Marielle felt that he wasn’t in love with her. But perhaps the pain of being abandoned preyed on his mind often.