She awoke in a wholly unfamiliar place.
          A bedroom. Simple. Quaint.
          It reminded her of pictures she’d seen in Bygone books—the ones with actual, physical, organic paper.

Photo by Jason Blackeye on Unsplash

          Via could have allowed a grin at the memory, but as she slowly attempted to sit up, she became aware of the constraints.
          If she were a cursing kind of woman, she would have done so then, but instead panic began to settle in.
          Forcing a deep breath, she examined the shiny “bracelets” around both of her wrists. None of the rag-tag Hunters had any tech this advanced. It had to have come from the governing authorities. Which meant it had to have come from the American Union. Only they had the brainpower for this kind of tech.
          Dread hit. She didn’t recognize the design.
          Before—before all this running and hiding… It was she and her dad who tested every piece of technology before its release to the public and its security forces. It had been a fun side hobby—her favorite past time—and it had significantly raised her skills of hacking and mechanical tinkering to where she was an even more adept locksmith & computer technician than her father. In jest, he’d claimed otherwise, of course, but she’d let him. His brilliance was renowned, she could never best him for that.

          Her eyes looked round the room—something she should have done first thing—but she didn’t see a camera, or any other form of spyware.
          Didn’t mean there wasn’t any.
          She turned back to the cuffs. But no sooner had she begun examining them again when a knock sounded at the door and three people walked in.
          It was the young men from the building. But instead of the stealthy, obscure clothing they had worn then, both were now dressed in rich fabrics of the like no terrorist would have gained honestly.
         Via’s eyes narrowed.
          The girl who followed was such a striking contrast to two's muted colors, Via almost did a double-take. Brilliant blue hair framed an oval face and bright, chocolate eyes. Her dark jeans and pink blouse matched a personality of one secure in her appearance and abilities.
          She chose to ignore them and started on the cuffed restraints once again.
          “Apologies,” said the one she recalled as Warrick. “We thought them necessary, at least at present,” he added, a friendly smile playing at his lips. “Didn’t want you following through on your word to shoot us.”
          “Wick,” the girl nudged him, scolding.
          He cleared his throat, glancing at the one called Darrow. “Anyway. I wouldn’t bother, they’re quite impervious to—”
          A subtle click sounded and Via felt a bit of unmeasured pride and satisfaction at the feel of the invisible lever. Of course, it was pure luck that she’d discovered the pattern in only moments, but still, nothing they needed to know.

Photo by M.T ElGassier on Unsplash

           What she would give to be able to hide her emotions so effectively.

          “I would ask why, but I don’t think you would answer me directly,” she began. A small smile as if in answer graced his lips. “You said ‘conditions,’ and yet you only mentioned one.”
          “Join my team.”
          It was so simply put, and without hesitation, she almost asked him to repeat it.
          “Why?” Perhaps this why he would speak plainly.
          “I know your skills. I know your abilities. And I know more than most what has transpired over the past five weeks of your life. It was said to be an accident, but my people know better. And this time, the One World Union* has gone too far. We plan to put a stop to it.”
          “How?”
          She saw him pause, take her in. “I believe that is an answer best left for tomorrow,” he said at last, standing. She huffed, but had to admit she felt exhausted.

          She knew sorrow seeped into her tone as she answered, but it couldn’t be helped. “Then, you had best have a good method for vetting your… guests—for those closest to you may have the best-kept secrets of all.”

          He turned to leave, again, but something stopped him. He saw her reclining against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, obviously having difficultly shutting down her mind to rest. Thinking better of it, he made to leave for good this time, but instead his feet took another step in and he softly said, “Hey,” praying his voice held the same friendly manner his brother’s did in situations like this.
          “What can we call you?”
          Her father, Dr Kyte, had been a master-genius when it came to tech of any kind. When he gained popularity several years ago, he had been more than careful to keep his family and their names from the light. Had even admitted so. The public knew the faces of his wife and children, but a decade later, still no one knew their names. Until now, he hadn’t thought of asking her.
          She answered more softly than he’d spoken, so low he nearly didn’t catch it.
          “Violaine.”