"Anyways, like I was saying. The people here have their sentience extracted from their physical bodies and are sent through those tiny wires connected to the cylinders to the frame of that tear in space called 'The Link.'"
She pointed at the huge oval metal frame that was suspended midair at the center of the room. The air in it looked slightly opaque and rippled every two seconds like water.
"Their sentience then goes through a complicated procedure that I don't have the patience to explain and are then assigned new bodies in another plane of existence to complete our Lord's tasks!" Her words were met with silence.
"Are you kidding me right now? You killed half of my family and enslaved the rest for some crazy experiment? Are you all really just crazy?!" He couldn't stop himself, especially after hearing all the crazy person stuff she just spat out.
For another time, Tracy's expression became completely cold. She quietly stared at the two before saying, "What you say doesn't matter, really. You two will soon be in one of those cylinders yourselves," she said as she walked towards one of the many workstations that surrounded 'The Link', and began tapping on the holographic touchscreen.
Soon the ground beside her opened up and a similar cylinder popped out and the door slid open, the inside lighting up as if inviting someone to step in. Tracy then looked towards Eleanor, "Get in," her words made the two flinch.
Alrick held Eleanor's wrist and stood still. "She's not going anywhere."
Tracy just let out a mocking laugh as she saw Alrick's front of display. "Don't waste my time, kid. Let your lady friend get in there so I can commence with other important things." Her words didn't get through though, as the two didn't budge.
She was really pissed now. She walked toward them slowly. "Do you want me to drag you then, missy? I said get in" Her hands shot out to grab Eleanor, but Alrick was quick enough to move his friend out of the way, then proceeded to lunge a scalpel into her eye—the scalpel he had hidden up his sleeve.
Tracy jerked back and screamed in pain, the two did not waste time as they ran. They went around the tear in space, aiming to get as far away from her as possible, but a blast from Tracy's direction behind them, sent the two flying through the air, toward 'The Link'.
"No!" she screamed and ran toward them in an attempt to stop what was going to happen, but it was too late. The two teenagers fell through the tear.
++++
That stupid force, whatever it was, was bothering his sleep again. He couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but it was worse than a relentless alarm clock and a little sibling who doesn't know what boundaries are and is sent by your parents to get you down for breakfast—combined.
He had to give in again and open his eyes. The high ceilings that he couldn't really see were still there. He was still in that soft bed, he was in the elegant room where even the sheets seemed more expensive than his dad's car. He still felt uncomfortable in his own skin, he was still blind and his name was still—
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of metal hitting the ground. He turned his head towards an unfamiliar lady standing at the entrance of his room. A metal tray and a spilled bowl of water scattered at her feet. He swore he could feel that his space had been tainted, even if he couldn't see it.
"Prince Lucien! You're awake!" the woman cried out as tears welled up in her eyes, but Alrick couldn't feel the compassion in her tone one bit. He felt there was something about her that he was forgetting, and it seemed to be very important.
She was wearing a maid's uniform—a long, high-neck dress in a dark shade of grey, black polished boots, a starched white apron, and a mobcap that hid her hair.
"Can you stop barking and find me someone useful that will tell me what happened?" he surprised even himself with his harsh words. He was never that rude unintentionally. As he sensed the maid bow and scurry off, he couldn't help but sigh. It seemed Lucien was a really rude bastard.
By the way, did she just call me Prince? And what weird language am I even speaking?
Just as he was about to contemplate more, he heard the maid return quickly with two men. They walked into the room and both sounded incredulous to see he was awake. Were they wishing him dead then?
The first man seemed to be a scholar of some sort—like what you'd see in a Victorian era drama.
His tailcoat was long and finely tailored, the color of pressed ink. Double-breasted, with brass buttons etched faintly with the caduceus symbol—a serpent coiled around a staff—though some bore subtle rune markings for protection against contamination. The high collar was stiff with starch, framing a cravat of pale ivory linen, secured with a small silver pin in the shape of an open eye.
Beneath the tailcoat, he wore a dark waistcoat, embroidered with faint silver threading along the edges. It didn't seem to be just decorative, though. His shirt was crisp and immaculately pressed, the cuffs secured with square, bone-white cufflinks—something that looked really expensive.
His trousers were charcoal wool, straight-legged, spread neatly over polished leather shoes that bore scuff marks only at the soles—evidence of excess walking. The man had a top hat on his head that matched his trousers and a briefcase in hand.
Alrick could tell immediately that this man was a physician, it was something familiar to him. But the part of Lucien in him said this man was bad news for the both of them… or him?
The other man seemed to be around Lucien's age—or Alrick's.
Talk about having an identity crisis.
He wasn't even sure how old he currently was. Anyway, the young man's coat was long and closely fitted, made of thick navy wool with a slightly iridescent finish—subtle, like oil on water. It buttoned high to the collar with silver-fastened toggles, each etched with the sigil of the noble house he served. On his left shoulder, a sleek silver chain looped across the chest, signifying active duty.
The high collar stood stiffly around his neck, lined in black silk, with a small embroidered crest—the crowned stag that decorated his room. A black leather belt cinched at the waist, more decorative than functional, with a side loop for a ceremonial sword. His trousers were straight and finely creased, a slightly darker shade than his coat, tucked neatly into polished black leather boots that rose mid-calf.
His light brown hair was tousled in a good way, and his brown eyes were dark as he looked Alrick/Lucien straight in the eyes. He could literally feel the stare down from this personal guard, the look from this handsome guy seemed to offend him a whole lot even though he couldn't see it.
"Can someone tell me what happened?... And stop giving such obvious expressions, I'm not dead yet." He didn't know why, but he was pissed—and he still didn't understand the new language he was speaking. The physician cleared his throat, as if disapproving of Alrick's tone.
"Young Prince, you passed out a few hours earlier today due to your weak constitution. But when your personal maid, Martha, came in to check your health, you had been found unconscious on the floor again. I'm so happy nothing bad has happened and you are alive and well," the physician finished speaking with a bow.
Alrick didn't know whether to give a standing ovation at this man's brilliant acting. He deserved a Grammy, that's for sure. But how did he know the man in front of him was acting, though?
That was when it happened—he grabbed onto his head, screaming out in agony. These migraines were going to run him to the grave… But why did they feel different from before? It felt like his skull was being cracked open to force in as much information as it could—things that were both familiar and quite not right.
He could hear questioning voices, fake concern, and someone grabbing his shoulders as if to hold him down from writhing in pain. It went on for a while before he gasped for air in finality. His body stopped moving as sweat rolled down his forehead with each ragged breath.
He sat up, shrugging the hands off him, slicking his damp blonde hair back with his hand as he looked up at them. His eyes scanned them without even seeing them and one thing came to mind: they were all his enemies.