"Getting rid of the normal, good idea," Kraken tells me. "I have killed quite a few of them already."
I turn back to her, and as if I've done this dozens of dozens of times before, I ask, "Why do you want to kill me?"
"Because you're the Pandora Project," she answers. "There's no other reason."
"Pandora... that's not my name," I tell her. "I'm..."
Most of my memories, including my name still elude me. I'll have to be patient until they surface, but first I have to survive my encounter with this monster.
Kraken peers at me for a long time, and then she says, "You act like you don't remember me."
"Why do you say that?"
She grins before she slithers out, "You aren't running!"
I notice the red blood covering her long claws and that her body is full of bullet holes.
"You're hurt," I say and I notice how concerned I sound. Maybe I did know this creature before.
"The soldiers tried to prevent me from coming out and stretching my claws. I took of their blood..." she tells me as she places a hand to one of her wounds, "...and they repaid me in kind." Kraken peers at me again as if she's trying to figure out what I'm thinking, and then she says, "You don't remember me, do you?"
"My memory is a little fuzzy since leaving hyper-stasis," I admit to her. "I get a sense that I know you, but..."
"But what?" she asks.
"Fear's not the first thing that comes to mind. It's more like... somehow we're alike. Somehow... we... we both shouldn't be in this place."
She lessens her aggressive stance as she tells me, "Shredding you to bits without you knowing the reason why would be a pity. Why don't you tell me what you do remember? Maybe it will jog more of your memories."
"I don't remember you at all. I do remember being forced into the hyper-stasis chamber and forced into hyper-stasis. There's a reason I was place there. Someone was trying to prevent me from doing something."
"Go on," she urges me. "What were you trying to do?"
"I..."
That particular detail of my memory is still vague. I do remember the distinct sound of...
"Well," Kraken interrupts my thoughts. "What were you trying to do?"
"I was trying to save someone... no... I still need to save someone. I need to go."
"Memories are fickle things," Kraken tells me as if she knows something about me that she's holding to her own. "Memories make us who we are and glean the path before us. Our distorted and bloody intertwining past comprises a great deal of who you are, but it seems to be my lot that our story be put on hold here. I believe we'll meet again, but only when your story is over."
I'm not sure what she means, so I ask, "Are you letting me go?"
Kraken studies me for a few moments more, then she moves away from the door, and I slowly move towards it. I start to head out when Xavier appears in the door way. He's armed with a pipe, and he's holding a cell phone in his other hand.
"It's okay," I tell him before he starts for Kraken. "She's going to let us go."
He takes a step back and then tells me, "Come on. I found another way out for us."
I turn back to Kraken and question her, "Do you want to come with us?"
"No," she replies. "I'll wait here until you remember everything, then I'll come find you, and we can finally finish everything."
I nod and leave her to her fate, then I head out with Xavier, and we run through several hallways. I keep pace with him until a burst of memories hits me hard, and I double over. Many images and thoughts from my past slam into me, and it's painful to remember so much at once, but I'm thankful for the return of self.
"What's wrong?" he questions me.
"I remember now..." I tell him as I hold my throbbing head and still manage to smile as my purpose becomes joyfully clear. "I remember everything now." I force myself to straighten as I continue, "My name, my mission, and the person I need to save. We have to hurry before it's too late."
Xavier lifts the cell phone he's been carrying to his ear and talks into it as if he's been on the phone with someone this whole time, "She says she remembers everything. Yes... yes... I understand. I'll make sure she gets out safely." He hangs up the cell phone and questions me, "Now what?"
I look around the hallway, and for the first time, I know where I am, and I turn away from him and say, "This way. We need to go this way."
"Before we do that..." he starts, so I turn back to him, and he swings the pipe and hits me in the head.
The hallway whirls around me as I crash to the floor. Xavier drops the pipe and hurries to my side with this look on his face like he hit me harder than he planned to.
"I'm sorry, but I can't let you deviate from the path R.G. has set before you," he tells me as he removes another syringe from his lab coat pocket. "This will help reset you, then you can begin again without any nasty memories hindering your fate."
He injects me, drops the syringe, then removes another device from his pocket, and tells me, "Once I zap you with this, you won't remember anything from the past hour."
I grab at his arms, but I find I don't have the strength to fight him off and that I'm losing consciousness as the head wound pulls me further down into the void I had just woken up from. I claw at him as the purpose I had yearned to remember slowly trickles away.
I plead with him, desperate to hang on to what I just gained, "Don't take my memories... There's something important I need to do, and there's someone important I need to save... Please... I can't forget about them, and I can't forget what I need to do. So much depends on me... Please... at least let me save them. Let me..."
"I'm sorry, but this needs to be done," Xavier interrupts me, then he grabs hold of both my arms, and places the device to the back of my neck.
Everything that I had remembered, the purpose I had finally grab hold of, they all slip away in a brilliance of light, and I remember no more.
End the Pandora Project's view...
Some time later...
Elsewhere in the Sanctum...
The Chamber...
"The Kraken Project just surrendered to our soldiers," the male supervisor reported to the Council. "It never even engaged the other project."
"What of Pandora?" Mr. Morta inquired.
"Our soldiers believe she escaped from the Sanctum."
Ms. Nona said, "We should have three units of our soldiers give pursuit."
"No need," Mr. Morta spoke. "There are other ways we can test Pandora."
"Are you sure the project is ready?" Mr. Decuma inquired. "It just woke up from hyper-stasis. Maybe we should give it a few more weeks of conditioning before we begin the tests."
"No, launch the Pandora Project," Mr. Morta instructed. "Let us see what it can do on its own."
* * *
6:04 P.M...
In another part of the city...
Scattered streetlights partially lit an abandoned industrial district, and the wind howled, blowing through overgrown weeds and chilled the air of the blue gray night. Over the years, a few trees and plants adapted to the limited artificial light along with a large variety of weeds. Nocturnal creatures; rats, mice, owls, and cats ruled the alleys and parks of the mega-city of Noir.
A black sedan slowly rolled down the street, and its headlights lit up the dark road. The vehicle stopped at the curb a few hundred yards away from Etna Toys Plant and Warehouse, then the four doors of the vehicle opened, and five men in brown suits exited the car. Each of them wore polarized spectacles with black mirror-like lenses, and the spectacles hid more than their eyes. Four of them removed a silver Beretta from their shoulder holster. The fifth man wore a Coffin Handled Bowie tucked in a belt, and the man tapped the hilt eager to draw the knife. Eerily in one accord, they turned their heads and stared at the rusted toy building as they awaited orders. A parking lot stood between them and their target.
Within the Sanctum's Chamber...
"All
right people, let's stay focused," the male supervisor shouted as he and the female supervisor walked up and down the line of workstations. "This is the hour we've been waiting for!"
"Has the Pandora Project been located?" Mr. Morta asked in a deep voice as he twirled a gold ring on his dark brown finger.
"Yes, one of our best operatives, Argus is watching Pandora," the smaller man, Mr. Decuma answered as he smoothed his hand down a bright orange tie.
"Good... Good..." Mr. Morta said. "What does the operative have to report?"
Some distance from Etna Toys...
A man with shoulder length blond hair wearing a black trench coat peered through specialized binoculars. Argus had positioned himself in an alley a block from the abandoned toy warehouse to watch Pandora, and he noted the sedan across the street and the five men, and then he reported them to the Sanctum over a cell phone.
Within the Sanctum's Chamber...
The male supervisor handed a H.H.C. to the third member of the Council.
Ms. Nona frowned as she looked over it, thinning her cherry-red lips which contrasted her powdery white skin. Her frame was the smallest of the members. She stated, "We have received a second report from our operative." She scanned the report a second time, disconcerted over the news and then added, "Argus has spotted five bio-mechas, and they are not Proto-Androids, but a new model called Un-Men."
"Un-Men?" Mr. Morta spoke, not as surprised as his female counterpart. "Only one department within the corporation is developing this line of bio-mechas." Disappointed over the untimely intrusion, he exhaled loudly and then stated, "The Factory has started their Un-Men tests. I had hoped they would wait."
"You knew it might happen?" Mr. Decuma questioned as he rubbed his finger over a silver tie pin of the word Fate.
Mr. Morta nodded as he replied, "Yes, it was only a matter of time, but it means..."
"It means–" Ms. Nona interrupted, "–that the Factory has decided to go against the wishes of the Council."
"How dare they!" Mr. Decuma uttered, then he slammed his palms on the table as he stood, and declared, "We must do something!"
"But what?" Ms. Nona questioned.
"More importantly," Mr. Morta started. "What are their plans for our child-like Pandora?"
Back at Etna Toys...
The wind kicked up sand and debris as the five men, the Un-Men, stood by the sedan. Their Internal Link or I-Link, not only connected them to the Factory, but to each other, and with the I-Link, they could think and move as one. They shut the sedan's doors and simultaneously walked toward the warehouse across the parking lot, but the one with the Bowie paused and turned, spotting a heat signature. The heat signature was of a human hiding in the darkness of an alley that was across the street from it, and the Un-Man could tell the human was watching them. The Un-Man's I-Link blazed orange through the right lens of its polarized spectacles as it processed the data.
Argus moved his hand to the M4 assault rifle strapped over his shoulder as he tensed, not knowing what it would do. Argus had encountered a Proto-android before, and it had nearly killed him, but he had no idea what this new model was capable of. He decided to stay on the safe side and make it clear he wouldn't interfere with their mission, so he moved his hand away from the assault rifle and waited for its reaction. The Un-Man smirked at him, continued toward Etna, and joined its brethren. Argus was relieved it worked and grabbed a hold of the M4 as he moved across the street to continue the surveillance of the project.
Within the Sanctum's Chamber...
"The matter is confirmed. The Factory–" Ms. Nona emphasized the next word, "–has gone against our wishes." She looked to the larger man and questioned him, "What is our next move?"
"Analyze and record," Mr. Morta answered. "Our agenda has not changed. The Un-Men will test Pandora for us."
Within the dark Etna Toys Plant and Warehouse and among boxes of discarded toys and debris, a cot had been set up, and a lamp on a round end table stood beside it and lit up the area in a dim glow. The woman, Pandora, who was in her early thirties slept on the cot; she had a shaven head, and the gash on her forehead which Xavier had unintentionally given her, bled. The trickle of blood flowed past her brow, ran down the side of her face, and dripped to a pillow. The crimson liquid spotted the white cotton case. No other bedding covered the old and worn mattress.
She wore a white V neck T-shirt, gray-black pants, and black hiking shoes. Her eyes rapidly moved underneath her closed eyelids as she dreamed, and her lips moved as she talked within the dream, but there was no sound. Her inaudible narration continued until she spoke out loud, "A love that will not die."
Her breathing increased, and her arms and legs jerked in mock movement as she envisioned herself running. Sweat speckled her forehead, and her face grimaced in determination as her mind replayed a memory; it was one that would mark her future with sorrow. Three shots rang out in the dream, then the horrible recollection caused her to scream, and she sat up and franticly searched the building as a panicked feeling urged her to flee.
The Pandora Project's view...
My heart thunders in my chest as I notice I'm alone and not in any immediate danger, so I calm down a little and remember part of the dream. I was running, but there's something I can't remember. Whatever it is, I think it's important enough to recall, so I strain to grasp at the fleeting images, but it's too late; they're gone.
My head hurts, I'm very thirsty, and I feel a little queasy as I examine the old empty building more closely. Parts of teddy bears are scattered about a stack of boxes, and a layer of dust clings to everything like the building and machinery haven't been used in years. I remember more of the dream, not the images, but the urgency I felt within it, and a sense that there's something I'm supposed to do or someone I'm supposed to help. The remnants of the dream fade, and I mentally try to grasp for a clue, but it's like trying to capture a dark phantom. The sensations of fear and anxiety remain with me along with the sound of the three shots, but nothing else of the dream remains and that bothers me. Was I pursuing someone or was someone chasing me? Was I the predator or the prey?
I remain on the cot a little longer, hoping something will resurface and tell me how... I gasp and put a hand to my mouth as I realize something that deeply unsettles me, and the revelation frightens me more than not knowing what happened in the dream. I realize I don't know who I am. I can't remember anything past the moment I woke in this warehouse on this cot. I know I should be doing something, but I can't... I can't remember anything. Smothering terror oozes over me like the Blob from the classic horror movie, and its gelatinous glob eats away at my presence of mind, adding my frightened essence to itself. It'll do me no good to panic, and I mentally spray frigid air on the growing Blob, taking back my sanity from its frozen and cracked form.
My head continues to hurt, so I touch my temple, feel a warm wet substance, and examine my bloody fingers. Did I hit my head or did someone hurt me? The thought that someone might have hurt me makes me a little on edge, so I move to the side of the cot, thinking of going to a hospital when I notice a second table; it's square and small and has a few items on it. I pick up a business card with an image of a flaming bird, flip it over, and find a barcode on its back. I set it down, pick up a note, and read it aloud.
"Katharine..."
I study the name, wondering if the name belongs to me. It doesn't sound familiar, so I continue reading, "Katharine, you must not fail; this is your last chance to redeem yourself. I know you can complete your mission, my dearest Kat. I am counting on you."
The note's signed by R.G.
I fold the paper, then along with the card, I stuff them in my back pocket and decide I need to find help for the wound on my head in case it's serious. I spot a door and start to stand and move for it when a flash of a violent memory makes me turn my attention back to a metal case on the table. Why did I ignore this item? I stretch my hand for it. Why does my heart
pound in dread when I reach for it? I pause before grabbing it as a sinking feeling sweeps over me, and I pull my hand back and decide it's best to ignore the enigma. I look to the last object on the table and pick it up; it's a small silver box shaped like a treasure chest and has a small raised star the size of a dime on its lid. I examine the box, then carefully open it, and its tune sweetly rings in my ears. The tune reminds me of the opening of a classical piece, but whose? Bach, Beethoven, and Mozart come to mind, but the piece doesn't seem to belong to either of them, then I realize I'm wrong; it has elements from each, like it's a mixture of several openings playing on top of each other. I close my eyes, letting the music sink in as a calming solace sweeps over me, and the urgency to leave the building slips away as I focus on the tune. While I'm in this state of relaxation and before I'm completely engulfed by it, I wonder about a few things. How do I know the composers' names and that the piece is Ginn L. Irynkissgthie's Unfinished Melody? Why do I know some things, but my own name's lost to me?
Unfinished Melody is short; it plays about thirty seconds, and then it starts over and plays over and over in a hypnotic flow. I gaze at the music box, hearing nothing but the haunting arrangement of compound sounds. My fear and anxiety vanish, and my body relaxes to an absolute state of nirvana as the tune lulls me into a trance. I slowly closed my eyes and enter a peaceful place within my mind. The place is a subconscious oasis to the confusion and dread I experienced before the melody. The tune has a calming effect on me, and as I sit there in an ecstatic state, sounds outside of the building become louder and clearer. The wind howls, rustling the leaves of trees and overgrown bushes. A moth repeatedly taps the glass of a street light drawn to the artificial flame as four car doors slam. A cricket chirps, and an owl swoops, landing on a squeaking mouse.
lub-DUB... lub-DUB...
I open my eyes as my heart thumps so loud I can hear it, and I experience an overwhelming sense of hysteria. I put a hand to my chest, not in pain, but in horror as I realize something's wrong. I close the music box, place it in my left thigh pocket, and search the building and find it's still empty. I know I'm in danger, but from what? I glance at the case I ignored, and a deep dread lifts in me like a leviathan rising from the ocean's abyss. I freeze as I stare at the metal container; it's like I know what's inside, but my mind refuses to grasp the knowledge, and instead I want to run away from it like it's a maniac chasing me. I disregard my apprehension about the case and turn my attention back to my pounding heart and the urgency screaming at me to leave. The longer I wait to act, the more anxious and terrified I become. I feel like a deer standing in an open meadow, sensing a predator prowling towards me through the tall grass, and I fear I'll be attacked at any moment and from any direction. I get off the cot and start to run when the lamp beside me shatters, and the surrounding area plunges into darkness as pieces of the lamp ping to the concrete floor. I shriek, realizing someone shot at me, and I dive as more bullets whizz overhead. I turn the table over for cover, the case falls, knocking itself open, and a metal object slides from it.