I kind of have a problem with how any things I have going on. And at least a third of them are along the lines of Sci-Fi.

But seriously, I am obsessed with Sci-Fi, and I really have no idea why. First, I can't stop thinking about DS (not a bad thing, but still), and I am currently working on a Sci-Fi novel that I plan to publish sometime in 2014. And whole bunch of other shit that I want to publish in 2014, but whatever.

That all came out pretty randomly, but whatever. Not many people read my A/N's anyway, so not many people are catching my crazy.

More story news in the bottom A/N.

I go to Bree's room alone two nights after my experiment. Leo is on edge, but understands it was for the sake of a plan.

"Just don't tell Janelle, she gets jealous easily," was all he said later that night. I didn't respond, mostly because I still have no idea who Janelle is.

I tread silently down the endless halls, eyes hurting in the dimness and my throat dry with thick air. How can They stand it? Even I, a supposed superhuman, can't stand the atmosphere of this place.

Maybe they aren't human.

I stop. I'm just two doors away from Bree's room now. She's in a hall that could be an infirmary, but that's a word for wounded people who are taken care of because someone cares, not because they're apart of some evil plot that could destroy mankind.

That voice has appeared again, as monotone as always.

You should really learn to pick your moments, I tell the voice, but it's gone now. I can feel the emptiness even in my head.

"I liked being comatose better," Bree tells me as I quietly slip in her room. She breathes her words.

I give a small laugh. "Can't say I blame you."

"I mean, it would still be bad, but I wouldn't be living it, you know?" Bree says, knotting her hands together in her lap. I've only seen her three times, but her small actions send jolts of reconigzion through me - the way she squirms, biting her lips, knotting her fingers, messing with her hair.

"I see they uncuffed you," I muse, eyeing her bruised wrists from the cutting metal I bore not too long ago myself.

She gives a dry chuckle. "Yeah, but who knows what they're going to do to me now."

Bree swings her legs, causally asking to her regulated shoes, "So, what did you learn on your end?"

I feel my shoulders tense, and my jaw set without my accord. These words echo in the back of my head, tugging on a past, fuzzy memory that slips away before the dull throb of remembering it can set it.

"Well, I kissed Leo."

Bree's head shoots up at that, a playful smirk tugging at the edge of her dry, pale lips that mirror what have happened to my own pair. "I hope you know he's taken, right?"

"Yeah, this Janelle chick, whoever that is." I shrug, sliding next to her on the metal table, our thin, nearly sketeal bodies barely brush each other as we sit quietly on the edge. I feel the cold sharpness through the thinness of my pants.

"I did it right in front of one of Them," I continue, "just to see what would happen."

"And?"

"Absolutely nothing. It's almost like they're programmed to say and react in the way Boss Man wants them to."

Bree gives a little gasps, and hops off, beginning to pace. "Okay, I know you won't remember this, and that you'll think I'll sound crazy -"

" - and what part of this isn't crazy?"

She continues, completely ignoring me. "- but you used to be a genius. Not even a genius - the genius. Out of everybody in the world, I mean. It's because Davenport made you that way."

"Made me?" I raise my eyebrows.

She nods. "Remember? He ran you over and patched you up. In doing so, he made you bionic with a chip in your neck." She taps the back of her neck to emphasize her point. "But that's not the point."

"Getting to it some time tonight would be nice," I mutter to her dryly.

Bree stops in front of me and rolls her eyes. "So impatient. So, anyway, we've been studying these places for months - not just Faculty X, but every Faculties these guys are running - which is, I'd say, about nearly five in every other state and then more in the different continents.

"You guys were talking about populations and stuff like that, speaking of how even with such low employment rates, these guys weren't raking in as many workers for them as they would as liked."

"So they started making their own," I finish for her in realization. "I remember, I think - it said something about using donor genes to create their own andriods because they follow order better than actual humans could, and were easier to populate to fill all the neccessary spots for their Faculties."

Bree nods grimly, urging me to continue.

I look down at my dirty white pants and squint, trying to recall where all this information had come from. "He, Davenport I mean, pulled up at map with all the Faculities and their precise amount of workers here. Only like, what, all the workers in each one only averaged to about two percent being human?"

She nods agree, looking more eager.

"Oh, this is fantastic," she mumbles, looking up at me with a small smile. "I know I'm a stranger and all now, but you have no idea how huge this is for me."

I tilt my head. "What? Piecing it together?"

"No, being partners in crime again."

{::::::::::}

Leo loves to dance.

I know, it's an odd thing to learn early in the morning after a drug round, but it's always useful. And if it isn't for his slightly droopiness after being pumped with several drugs, I would have never known.

"It's just something they aren't programmed to pick up, you know?" Leo tells me, lying on his cot in the moments before they will haul me away for daily interrogation.

I swivel my neck to look at him. "You like dancing?"

His scrawny shoulders rise and ruffle against his cot. "More of a hobby than an interest."

But I see the mere seconds where his mouth twitches in a smile, and know the meaning behind his words.

"Well, at least it's something," I tell him, but he can't exactly dance his way to the office without being spotted. "Anymore ideas."

"Yes, actually," Leo tells me, and he's smirking. I don't like how he's looking at me without looking at me. "I want you to kiss the boss's son."

I gag on my own spit, feeling my eyes bug out. "Do what?" I manage to croak.

"I want you to kiss the boss's son," Leo repeats again casually, "and then drug him."

I snort at this. "Drug him? With what, some magical drug I yank out my ass?"

"No, with the syringe you're gonna take from Them when they come in here tonight."

"Are you kidding me?" I hiss, walking to stand in front of him. "That's practically a suicide mission!"

"That's the best kind of mission," Leo insists. "And besides, his son can't kill you if he'll like it."

I raise my eyebrows, just for my own sake. "How would you know that?"

Leo stays silent.

"You kissed him before?" I ask in astonishment.

"We've been here before," Leo corrects me in his typical off-handed fashion, "before I was blind. We were in a mission - this is still our mission. We still have to stop these people, just like we had to before.

"Just because we changed, doesn't mean our mission has. We still have to stop this project, this Faculty."

"And how would we do that?"

"By killing this operation at the heart - we need to kill the boss."

{::::::::::}

I still mull over this even as I sit the silent interrogation room across from General Whitman. The same pictures from my first day with him lay in front of me, but I can put names to them now.

Broad-shouldered, singed sideburns, bruised eyes, a split lip - Adam's eyes still glimmer even when nearly swollen shut.

Darkened skin, an opened cut on her brow dripping blood onto her eyelid - Bree's eyes still shine with mischief.

Hollowed cheeks, sunken eyes, pale mouth set in an indifferent line - this man, Davenport, still remains a mystery to me.

It strikes me odd that, not once, Whitman ever showed me a picture of Leo, when he is also in on this, but I don't bring it up, because doing so would also mean I'm gaining back useful memories, one that could help them kill these people that are somehow my family.

"I've never seen these people before in my life," I tell him monotonously, meeting his gaze blankly.

{::::::::::}

They let get settled in to the guest room down the hall, promising a phone call to my parents in the morning.

"All you need now is some rest," Davenport, the guy who allegedly gunned me down in the first place, told me before letting Bree and Adam show me the way to the guest room.

Long past I heard everyone break off to their own rooms, I laid awake thinking about a lot of things.

I thought about my sister.

I thought about my parents.

I thought about how I almost died tonight.

I thought about how close to tears Bree looked when I woke up.

What would it matter to her if I died? I didn't know her, why would she know me?

Sitting up, I cradled my head in my hands. Thinking about these things all at once were giving me a headache, which I apparently wasn't immune to even when bionic superhuman.

Suddenly the room, while gigantic, seemed too big and cramped for me. I stood, ripping off my shirt and began to pace, repeatedly running my hands through my hair.

Breathe in, walk a few steps, breathe out.

In, few steps, out.

I repeated this, over and over, until the walls fell away from me and the heat disappeared.

"Are you okay?"

Bree's figure leaned against the doorway. I looked up to see her hair pulled back and her arms crossed firmly over her chest.

I sighed, feeling cool air from the hallway as it crept over me. "Yeah, I'm good."

"You don't have to say it if you don't mean it; you were ran over by a car today."

I cracked a smile at her worrisome tone, falling back onto the guest bed with a sigh. "It's just, this morning I was kissing my sister and parents goodbye before I left for school, and I'm told that I'm a superhuman that's going to help save the world. It feels like I jumped dimensions."

Bree gave a short laugh, coming in to the room farther. "Yeah, I guess I never realized how much of an effect something like this could have on someone."

I knotted my fingers, gnawed on the dry skin of my lip. "How long? How long have you and Adam been like this?"

She let out a shuddering breath. I could picture her doe eyes piercing into me from her spot against the wall. "Since forever."

{::::::::::}

The next morning I awaken to Leo slipping back in to the cell. I watch through bleary eyes as he wiggles his scrawny shoulders and slim legs through the metal bars and settle slowly onto his cot.

"Where you been?" I ask in a whisper. I never know who could be watching - or listening.

Leo's film-covered eyes blankly gaze at the cracked wall behind me. "I felt my way around. Touched the plates that labeled out cells, Their labs; brushed my hands against the finger tips of a girl. She was thin and sobbing."

"How could you tell?"

"Her fingers felt like mine."

He comes and kneels in front of me, holding out his pale, dark hands. I look at the bumps of his scraped knuckles, the knobby digits that form his slim fingers.

"She called a name and let me touch her face." He reaches up and brushes the hollow area underneath my right eye. I imagine my own face, add hollow bags under my sickly eyes that are colored an ill green and purple.

"I sometimes hear people wailing,' I admit, watching him pull away and shrink onto his knees. "I never thought there was more of you - more of me and us."

Leo nods, now on his own cot and grim-faced.

"We need to do something now, not just for us, but for the others," he says. "For our future and theirs."

I lie back on my cot and am hit with the sound of gun shots. The growing knot in my stomach twists and yanks on my heart, making it rattle around in my chest as smoking rifles and gun barrels dance on the edge of vision.

Cries of help; shouts and demands left and right; falling bodies; rattling chains and shackles; guns going off as bullets bite into sickly flesh of running skeletons.

The knot in my stomach is not one of fear, but is a craving, matching the ache in my fingers, like they were spent after many days of pulling triggers and and molding to get used to the weight of the weapon.

I turn to look at Leo and wonder if I can picture him and Bree and Adam among the field of bodies I imagined, They are more fitting to think about running by my side, our footsteps chopping through my adrenaline rush to assure me as I face the enemy.

But I know that these are only flashes and visions and hopes and beliefs, and They hold the cards along with my robbed memories, Bree's stolen happiness, Adam's erased content by our sides, and Leo's lost life.

As one of Them come in baring their long-needled syringes full of foggy liquid with a purple tint, guns and sobs rack my brain as I twist her wrist in my hand, her neck soon to follow.

I stand, both syringes held in the clammy grip of my right hand.

My own heartbeat drowns out my own words as I go to the metal bars of our cell.

"We need to move. Now."

Maybe one of my worst updates, but whatever. I think this is also one of my quickest updates, so, yay me. I think.

Ugh. I feel all sick and gross and my nose is about to crawl off my face and die or something like that. Either way the feeling is not pleasant.

I hope this keeps you satisfied because I won't be updating until two weeks from now.

Yeah, but maybe if you review I'll update quicker? Either way, reviews are cool, maybe leave one?