"Hello?"
Michael stood in front of the door calling out, occasionally glancing up at the camera mounted in the top corner.
"Someone?"
Three hours had passed since he'd woken up in the solitary confinement cell. He was still wrapped in his straitjacket jerking and twisting in it, hoping to find some give but it was useless.
Time, though he didn't know it, passed faster than he expected. Left alone for hours with nothing but his thoughts after doing something terrible, his mind imagined a lot of shit.
The first hour passed with him staring at the ceiling replaying everything in his mind again and again wondering if he could've done something differently. He questioned what he'd shot at, whether it had been real, and whether the neon green blood existed or was another hallucination.
The second hour was spent crying, his throat becoming tight and sore as he whispered apologies into the empty cell asking for forgiveness after taking two innocent lives.
In the third, time had slowed. Anxiety crept in and the need to talk to someone, anyone, was growing unbearable.
Are you feeling better?
Michael twitched and spun around.
She stood in the middle of the room. This time her eyes were fully visible, flickering between orange and deep crimson as she observed him. No shadows hid her face.
What do you want? Michael asked bluntly in his mind, turning around. Why did you trick me?
I didn't trick you, she said, her lips moving in sync with her words this time. You saw it. You saw the blood.
His jaw clenched.
Was it real?
Maybe.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Michael snapped, stepping forward aggressively. Her expression remained neutral. If anything, a faint hint of amusement. His voice rose into a shout. "I killed people because of you!"
They were already dead, she answered flatly. You will be dead.
"I could've escaped before it happened!" Michael shouted. "I have time! HAD time!"
I didn't want this to happen to you, she said, her tone softening as her gaze drifted slowly around the cell. Despite the unnatural glow of her eyes, tears slid down her cheeks. I wanted you to see what I saw.
"What do you mean see what you saw?"
The tears didn't stop.
The monsters have my baby. After all the battles. They have my baby.
Michael swallowed hard, panic and anger twisting together with an unnerving feeling.
"Who has your baby?"
A flash of light and Michael gasped, stiffening up and falling backward against the door. The little girl had blinked in front of him, staring at him with tear-struck eyes before hugging him intensely.
I will protect you.
"F-From what?" Michael stuttered, fear gripping his heart as he felt her icy cold grip.
Before he could react or ask any more questions, another bright series of flashes erupted around the room.
"AGH!"
His eyes snapped shut as his head felt like it was splitting open with pain and he fell to his knees. The few brief glances he managed to squeeze out let him witness an intense flurry of lights colliding with each other, shifting between crimson and orange.
The little girl stood over him clutching his head protectively and screaming.
He's mine! I will kill you!
"AAAGH!"
Make us whole again.
The pain in his head grew to the point of becoming unbearable before it suddenly ceased.
Michael gasped for air and his eyes snapped open. She was still holding his head.
"W-What the fuck was that?! The Marker?!"
Her icy cold hands slowly cupped his face and lifted it. His eyes darted around the room in a panic. Everything still looked intact and undamaged.
"W-What?"
She gave him a sad smile.
You must see or you will die.
"What? Wait...WAIT! AAAAAA!"
His head and upper body were locked in place. Her thumbs slowly rose up to his eyes before his vision blackened, accompanied by an intense pain that no screaming or shaking could fully translate.
And her icy thumbs didn't stop.
------
~Some time later~
Michael came to with an intense, unbearable headache. He groaned in agony but couldn't move. There was a bright light over him and he quickly realized he was in a chair of some kind.
"Turn off the light. Please? It hurts."
"You're awake?" a voice asked. "Good. I've been wanting to speak with you for some time."
Swallowing nervously, scared as he recalled what the little girl did to him, he whispered,
"What happened to my eyes?"
"Your eyes?"
There was a pause before a different, deeper, and familiar academic tone answered.
"There is nothing wrong with your eyes Michael. You can open them."
Bit by bit, his eyes fluttered open. A strangely familiar but unfamiliar, obese, middle-aged man with round glasses sat in front of him with his fingers interlaced on a gray metal desk. He held an intense focus on Michael while Tom Sciarello stood behind him, occasionally glancing up from a medical holopad.
Connected to Michael were multiple tubes and sensors as he looked around. He was no longer in a straitjacket but instead clamped down to a metal chair with heavy restraints.
"You are more worried about your eyes than being bound to a mere chair," the man said amusedly. "Hmph. Quite an episode you had as well before our meeting."
"An episode?" Michael breathed, shaking his head. His mind felt clearer, more stable, and everything oddly more focused despite the headache. "Oh... yeah."
"My name is Carthusia. I'm the Director of the colony. Now, what did you see? Who was speaking to you?"
Michael shook his head. "Nothing. I—"
"Do not lie to me, Michael," he warned, his expression and tone darkening.
"I have the power to release you or keep you imprisoned forever. Lie to me again and you will never set foot outside that cell. Do you understand me?"
Michael nodded though his gaze wandered past him.
The little girl was standing there. There was no longer any mist or space distortion as she glared angrily at the seated man.
His eyes followed a red mist flowing out from her hands toward his head and he immediately spoke up.
"Don't! I mean... yes. I understand."
Her rage filled gaze snapped to Michael before it slowly began to retract and the crimson note in her eyes began to fade to a normal black color.
"Elevated heart rate," Tom commented. "It's settling."
"Good," the man said with satisfaction before waving Tom away. Frowning, Tom slowly exited the room.
"Now, who were you talking to? I heard you mention the Marker several times already."
There was a brief pause.
Carthusia...I remember him. Yeah... I need to be careful.
Michael finally talked.
"The Marker," Michael began." I began seeing visions. I thought they were trying to lead me to the Marker and I was trying to resist."
Carthusia's eyebrow raised. "Resist? Why? The Marker is a glorious symbol in Unitology. You would've been the first to find it and celebrated back on Earth."
"I'm not a Unitologist," Michael began. "And it's-"
He was going to say dangerous but stopped himself.
"-it's not real. I was drugged."
"Hm, yes," Carthusia mused. "Except you weren't."
"What?" Michael blurted. "That's what you guys told me!"
"Yes. Because I ordered it."
Ah fuck. Unitology at work. Michael thought. Carthusia is a vested Unitology member and just the mere mention of the Marker must've convinced him I was being influenced. Considering he knows what it does to people.
"You knew? You... were hoping I'd lead you to it?"
"Precisely," Carthusia nodded with a pleasant smile. "I'm glad you have a sharp mind. It saves me a lot of trouble. But I don't need you to 'lead' me with it having been found. Though I suppose it was because of you that I must be grateful that the signal kept pulsing so clearly."
Michael stiffened and swallowed, gripping the armrest tightly.
"They found the Marker?"
"Yes. Two day ago. That's how long you've been unconscious."
"..."
Sighing, Carthusia leaned back. "Were the visions telling you anything else?"
"No. It wanted to be found."
Carthusia stared back silently, his glasses glinting under the light.
"Do you know what comes next?" he asked quietly.
"...No."
A sinister smile formed on Carthusia's face with a thin veil of warmth disguising it.
"That's too bad," Carthusia said softly. "I believe you would be overcome with joy if you knew."
"...What happens now? Will I spent the rest of my time in the cell?"
"Goodness no," Carthusia laughed before continuing with a growing intensity. "For now we must go through procedure. You will be released under the condition you embrace these visions from now on. Perhaps I can pull some strings back home to have your crimes... disappear?"
Yeah, Michael sarcastically thought, trying not to snort. Because this whole mining operation isn't illegal.
"But you must embrace the visions. Write it down, draw it, any way you see fit."
Michael nodded slowly under Carthusia's intense outburst and gestures.
"I will do it. And my normal duties?"
"Continue about them as normal," Carthusia brushed it off before standing. "If you have anything else you want to tell me, or if you remember anything else, schedule a meeting with me."
With that, Carthusia left the room with the sharp hiss of the door behind him and Michael exhaled with relief.
So I wasn't drugged. That's good. But then what are you? The Marker's influence or...
Michael tilted his head at a disgruntled girl with her arms folded.
Are you protecting me from the Marker?