Epilogue: Subject Four

She blinked her eyes sleepily as the harsh white lights came on gradually. Groaning, she curled back up into a ball, hoping it would dim. But it was pointless, since she was fairly certain by now that the lights were set on an eight hour system. Which admittedly did make it slightly easier to track the days.

Not that she could really do anything else at this point.

She rubbed her eyes and pulled the blanket off and swung her legs until they were hanging off the small cot. As always, she figured she was being watched and the mirrors that circled the room didn't do anything to dissuade her that was the case. She was assuming that they were a one-way mirror of some sort.

She fearfully snuck a glance at the door leading into her cell, hoping that they would ignore her today.

Despite her efforts, the days were all blending together and she no longer had any idea of how long it had been since she was taken. One month? Two? Her sense of time was completely messed up and she knew it was only a matter of time before they killed her or she went mad.

She pushed herself off the bed and walked over to the slot where the clothes were distributed. Were she not being jabbed, prodded and experimented on, the living conditions here were…honestly not completely bad. Ignoring the fact that she was inside a cell, it at least showed some kind of normalcy and decency.

Meals arrived roughly every eight hours, and it wasn't simply prison sludge either. It was actual food, vegetables, fruit, pasta, there was a surprising amount of variation and she'd been surprised by the quality as well.

Not that it usually mattered as she ended up throwing it all back up anyway.

Fresh clothes were also delivered every day, which she always donned after taking a quick shower. Another feature of this cell that was unusual, and it would almost be normal were it not for the fact that they were undoubtedly watching her. There was no privacy here and she was certain there was some perverted person watching her undress and shower every day.

She'd tried to find some way to stop them watching, and even refused to use it for a time. But at this point she didn't care. There were much larger things to fear than being watched naked.

She now tried to keep her showers quick all the same, but not for that reason. She didn't want to be caught when they came back.

And they always came back.

She shuddered in terror. It was always random and unexpected, two people would come in, always a man and woman. Then they'd strap her to the chair that was placed off to the side of the cell. Then they'd begin experimenting, they'd jabbed more needles in her than she wanted to think about.

She had no clue what was in the syringes. They never explained and she was often screaming too much to really ask. She suspected they'd infused her with various addictive drugs several times, since a few times she'd entered a pleasant euphoric state, giggling as the world swum around her. They'd repeat that for several days until the addiction took hold and then stopped.

Then they left her alone as her body went through withdrawal, while she writhed on the ground sobbing and puking over and over. While she was too weak to move, they'd occasionally send in a person to clean up her mess, though he never stayed long, let alone tried speaking to her.

And those were the least painful drugs she was given.

Most of the injections left her paralyzed with pain. The sensations ranged from fire to acid to frost. She'd experienced the sensation of death so often it was starting to become familiar. They never stayed long after the injection, they just left her on the floor as she writhed and screamed, begging for the pain to stop.

What this accomplished, she didn't know, and frankly didn't want to know.

There was no escape from this prison. They provided utensils with the meals and after the first few injections, she'd tried to kill herself. That was when she discovered the other thing these people had implanted inside her. She still wasn't entirely sure what it was, but it delivered a paralyzing shock throughout her body when she placed the knife at her throat.

Like everything with these people, the pain didn't leave. The shock lingered for hours after and she was left twitching on the ground while someone had come and calmly picked up her dishes. These people didn't have any emotion, everything was done as passively and emotionlessly as possible.

It was terrifying how little they regarded her.

They never mentioned her name except during the beginning for their files. With every single action, she felt as though her very existence offended them, the disgust in their eyes only made her feel even more worthless before them. And no matter what she did, they never showed any amount of concern. She was replaceable and they didn't see a need to hide that.

She shut off the water and quickly dried off and put the clothes they'd given her on. Unlike the food, there was no variation, each delivery of clothes was exactly the same as the last one. An all-white shirt, pants, underwear and socks. There were some white sneakers too, but she rarely wore them and they hadn't replaced them yet. Though they might if she wore them out.

She took the clothes from the previous "day" and placed them in a small slot that probably led to some kind of clothes basket. She'd tried taking a peek through, but saw nothing. It was the same with the slot for the dishes.

Besides, what was the point? It wasn't like she was ever going to escape.

She went over to the corner farthest away from the door and huddled down into it. An instinctual habit she'd developed in the vain hope that it would make it harder for them to watch her. Childish and ineffective for sure, but she couldn't help it, this was the only part of the cell where she didn't feel completely exposed.

They'd never given her anything to do, so she was left to wander in her own thoughts. The first few days she'd dreamed of escape until she learned the impossibility of it. Instead she now mostly thought about everyone she'd left behind.

They probably thought she was either kidnapped or dead by now, it had been too long for them to think differently. No one would think she'd run away or just leave without telling anyone, she'd never been like that.

She wondered how everyone had, or was, taking it. Her parents would have been devastated, and she wished there was some way to let them know she was alive even if it was in this hell. Her brother would have been sad as well, though not quite to the extent of her parents. They'd never been especially close.

She wondered what Latrell was doing now. Her boyfriend was probably the only one who probably hadn't given up hope that she'd survived. He was a stubborn idiot sometimes and she had no doubt he was combing the police records in search of reports of people like her. It was one of the few times she wished he wasn't the son of a cop. These people were dangerous and she was afraid if he accidentally found something out they'd find and kill him.

The door to her cell opened smoothly and she tried squeezing back further, trying to hide herself. "No," she murmured as they entered, tears forming in her eyes from anticipating the pain to come. "Not now. Not again."

Both wore the same attire as always, business suits and black dress shoes. They were proper and clear to a fault. The man was clean shaven and blonde hair neatly combed back. His face was hard as stone and unrelenting in the slightest. His eyes were as emotionless as the rest of his face, appraising her like a tool to be used or discarded.

The woman retained the same sternness of her counterpart, with her black hair pulled back into a ponytail with not a hair out of place. But unlike her counterpart, her eyes held nothing but contempt and disgust.

She crossed her arms to try and ward them off, but the man easily overpowered her and simply hauled her to her feet. "Please!" she begged as he half-dragged her to the chair. "Not again!" She might as well have been complaining to a statue for all the good it did. She'd once made the mistake of trying to hit him and the man had simply tapped a button on his watch and that activated the electric shock implant in her. Then they'd continued like normal.

Both of them were experts at this now and quickly secured her to the chair at the wrists and ankles. She didn't bother struggling anymore, there was no point. Even less of a point when the two of them were watching. In the unlikely event that she did manage to free herself, they'd simply secure her again.

"Begin log," the man said and the woman pulled out clipboard from her bag along with a pen, ready to transcribe.

"Subject Four," the man continued. "Annette Durand, test thirty-seven, experimental compound one-one-three-eight. Date, July fifth, two-thousand-fifteen."

Three months. She'd been in here three months. This was the first time they'd mentioned that date and she was terrified as to why. The woman glanced up and for once addressed her directly. "Yes, Subject Four. You've served your purpose here, and depending on how this goes these may be your last seconds on the earth."

She blinked. It sounded too good to be true. This had to be some kind of trick, they wouldn't just let her die. But if so, she prayed for her end to come. The woman took out a syringe filled with a clear liquid and injected it into her arm.

"Release it," the man ordered as she felt the clamps come off. "If it's like the other's we'll want to stand back."

Annette barely heard him as she collapsed to the floor, feeling like she was continuously falling. The world around her spun and dipped. Her vision blurred and became crystal clear. Then a pressure began building in her mind, it started as what felt like a small lump and quickly grew until she was wracked with the worst headache she'd ever had in her life.

She clutched her head and screamed as the pressure increased and pushed. Tears streamed down her face as she started banging on it trying to get it to stop. It felt like it was going to explode and after what seemed like an infinity, it did.

It was the loudest bang she'd ever heard that left her ears ringing. Her vision faded out and was replaced by blackness intermixed with purple flares. Flashes of light assaulted her vision, forming into odd shapes and images. Some looked like people she knew, others complete strangers. The images continued moving and flashing in random sequences.

She had no idea what was happening and then it all abruptly vanished and she opened her eyes on the floor, the buzzing in her ears fading and for one brief moment, everything was silent.

Then she was assaulted by the voices.

A hundred, a thousand, she couldn't make out the number, only that there were an uncountable amount of screaming voices in her head. She shouted and clutched her ears, hoping to block them out. But it with dawning horror that she realized the voices were inside her own head. They screamed, wailed and shouted incomprehensible words. It was a chorus of tortured souls and she could only make out odd words here and there.

But now she realized that something else had happened. There was something inside her, something that hadn't been there before. It was ethereal and intangible but it was the warmth of power that she'd never come close to feeling before.

She felt the man pick her up and steady her. "Make note that Subject Four has survived." He told the woman.

Annette glared up at him, the voices still shouting and crying. Her head pounding from whatever drug he'd given her. "Get off me!" She snarled, her voice deepening and doubling as if multiple Annettes were speaking. She channeled every single bit of rage, pain and terror into one final shove that she wished would be the final push that made him kill her.

She pushed and a purple shockwave burst out of her when she pushed, sending the man flying back into the wall. She stumbled back in shock, not noticing one of the voices had gone quiet. A wave of pain hit her in the stomach and she sank to her knees and looked at her hand which were enshrined in purple mist.

The skin on her hands and arms where the mist touched was bubbling and searing, adding more pain to her torture. She looked up at the woman who was staring at her in shock. "What did you do to me?!" Annette screamed at her, voice unrecognizable to her.

The woman didn't respond, only tapped a button on her wrist and an electric shock ran through her body and she collapsed to the ground, the voices continuing to echo in her head. As her vision faded, she saw the woman standing over her and tapped the earpiece.

"Inform the Director we have a success," she said coldly, peering down at her in contempt. "Yes, it is Subject Four." She seemed to wait for a response. "Yes, she'll be subdued." With that she tapped the button again and that final shock send Annette into the blissful realm of unconsciousness.

But even in darkness, the voices still persisted.

To be continued in XCOM: The Atlas Protocol

A/N: And so this story concludes. Well, that turned out much longer than I expected. I thought I might get about 100,000 words out of this. Ha, didn't expect to nearly triple that goal. But overall...I'm pretty happy with how this turned out. I don't consider this perfect (nothing ever is) and in retrospect would have probably changed some stuff and do think some parts could have been executed better. But on the whole, I think I did a good job. I also finished it, which is important on a more personal level. Thank you to all who took time to review and give feedback, I've had some great conversations thanks to reader interaction.

Now that it's finished, feel free to let me know how you think it works as a finished product. What worked, what didn't and what could be improved. I know some weaknesses and flaws of this particular story, and I'll be doing my best to correct them in the sequel. I do take all legitimate feedback into account when writing, so if there was something bothering you, now would be the time to address it before I start writing. Now as for when it'll be started...I have a basic idea of the plot in my head and almost all the characters nailed down, but I haven't written the outline yet. So I'm giving a rough timeframe of roughly two weeks. Not to mention I'm also going to do another playthrough of the Witcher III through the new expansion.

So, what is going to be in the sequel? Well, if you were disappointed with how little EXALT did, I can guarantee that they'll be taking a slightly more central role. There will also be psionics, MELD, espionage, more politics and political manuvering *cough*NorthKorea*cough* as well as a few other interesting things that will happen. Aliens are still invading though, that won't change.

Thank you all for reading. This was the most fun I've had on a project in a long time.

-Xabiar