Solitude Chapter 2 is out !
Thank you for your patience lovely ones ! :)
You can find the chapter on AO3 right here : https://archiveofourown.org/works/79750016/chapters/217235706
As always, thank you to my babe @mr-silvas-chimera for giving me advices <3 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 2: The Forgotten One
The floor-to-ceiling windows of the hospital room looked out over the snow-covered plains. The snowflakes fell gently, as if afraid of disturbing the room’s occupant, who was still unconscious.
Holding the ID badge between his fingers, Lyutsifer held it up to the light to examine the photograph once more: a young woman in her early thirties, her skin tanned by years of working outdoors. She had intelligent, deep-blue eyes and straw-coloured hair tied back in a tight bun from which not a single strand escaped. The attention to detail extended even to the shade of her cheap suit, which she had chosen to match her eyes.
“Who are you…”, muttered Lyutsifer, turning his gaze back to their guest.
Crushed by the machines and the vastness of the room, she looked small and fragile. Her skin, which had appeared tanned in the ID photo, now looked dull and pale. Her blonde hair was dirty and tangled, a far cry from the neatness she had displayed in the photograph. At least, that was what Lyutsifer assumed, for although she was unconscious, she could pose a threat to his entire empire.
The metal chair scraped against the concrete floor as he pulled it over to sit right next to the bed. Crossing one leg over the other, he opened the thick file Mikhail had given him a little earlier. Perhaps the answer to his questions lay in these meeting transcripts, the reports she had provided, a list of emails, screenshots of her blog… The rustling of the pages, set against the steady beep of the heart monitor, had a soothing quality. Settled in his chair, his shoulders relaxed.
The widespread monitoring of his staff had its advantages in this situation. From private conversations between colleagues to dietary preferences… Line seemed to enjoy lunches with her colleagues, or takeaways.
“Well, Mrs Ko, you don’t seem to cook very often…”, he murmured, a faint smile playing on his lips.
Every rustle of a page was yet another intrusion into the young woman’s life. A photograph of her, bathed in light in a colourful garden; a blog post about her favourite flower: lilac, preferably purple.
“An excellent choice…” The sweet, delicate scent of lilac came to mind. He could almost picture the colourful clusters dancing in the breeze, in the shade of the trees.
Lyutsifer stopped at page 89 of the file. A dozen internal emails, with a single name recurring over and over: Heracles.
At the sight of the name, his fingers clenched so tightly that the paper crumpled. Heracles.
The world stood still as he reread, over and over, the very words that had nearly been his undoing.
Ordinary employees knew nothing of this project. Only a handful of select individuals working on this island, in the middle of the Sea of Okhotsk, were aware of the programme’s existence—or rather, of its revival. He brought the pages closer to his eyes, as if that would help him shed light on the whole affair.
I would like to join the team for this programme. The potential of these new studies inspires me to achieve great things. I know that Dr Safin has grand plans for humanity, and I would like to assist him and learn alongside the Heracles team. Please find attached my latest performance reviews, along with a cover letter and CV addressed to the chief researcher.
This was the last email sent not to the HR department at the London plant… but to the head office of the Safin Pharmaceuticals conglomerate.
“There’s no way the information could have leaked…”, his voice trembling slightly, he took out his phone to send a message to his Deputy Director, demanding an explanation. A lab technician had asked to work on the Heracles project, and no one had bothered to tell him?
The beep of the heart monitor was becoming deafening, constantly on his mind. Control, maintaining control. The discreet pleasure he’d derived from this intrusion into Line Ko’s life vanished in an instant, replaced by a cold, vicious sensation. Fear. He was afraid.
Heracles had cost him the only semblance of a relationship he’d ever known, had nearly cost him his life, and years spent paying the price for his actions. He didn’t want to risk losing everything all over again. It was too much. He sat up abruptly and left the file on the edge of the bed before leaving the room.
He needed to think. There had to be some answers. This woman didn’t seem to want to harm the project, but rather to join it. What did she know about what they were actually doing in the laboratory? How had she heard about the project? If someone had revealed its existence to her… Was it for malicious purposes? Espionage? A conspiracy?
His hurried, clumsy footsteps echoed down the corridor as he passed employees with confused looks on their faces. With one hand against the wall, he took a single breath in his only haven of peace amid the chaos: his garden. A deep breath, the icy air filling his lungs, the cold stinging his fingers.
“Clear off! All of you! Now!” he barked at the few gardeners at work, who left him alone.
The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon when he regained his composure. The cold, at first biting, was now nothing more than a numbness numbing his body as well as his mind. How long had he been sitting there, alone on the bench facing the bed of foxgloves?
“... How long have you been waiting, Mikhail?” he asked without turning round.
“Exactly two hours, thirty-seven minutes and…” Mikhail’s deep voice paused, “now fifty-two seconds.”
“Stop joking around. Have you…”
“Received a panicked call from the Deputy Director, who’s been hounding the secretaries on the phone, grovelling for forgiveness? Yes, Boss. He claims he’s never seen the emails you’re referring to.”
Lyutsifer sat up slowly and decided to return to his office with a cup of hot tea. He mustn’t lose his temper like that again, especially in front of his staff. Mikhail, in his strange role as both right-hand man and guardian, had already anticipated his every need, and he knew it.
“I didn’t expect him to say anything else,” said Lyutsifer in a gloomy tone. “He knows full well he would have been sacked on the spot.”
“Isn’t that the case?” asked Mikhail in an even tone.
“Of course it is. I cannot tolerate the slightest error. However, if he’s telling the truth, we have a far more serious problem.”
The warmth of the office, and especially of the fireplace taking pride of place in its centre, was particularly welcome. Once settled into his Le Corbusier armchair, his feet resting on the matching ottoman, Lyutsifer’s face seemed to regain its usual composure.
“The initial reports from the IT department seem to back up what the recently sacked director said.” A notification sound came from Mikhail’s pocket, and he took out his mobile phone. “Human Resources has also confirmed his dismissal with immediate effect.”
“Perfect. I can’t afford to have incompetents working for me.”
The scent of mint, verbena and honey filled the room as Lyutsifer poured himself a cup of tea.
“So the message must have been intercepted to ensure I wasn’t informed. That doesn’t explain how she came to know about the Heracles project. Any information on the matter?”
“Alas, none. Our intelligence services have found nothing, apart from emails sent by this woman and another employee in France whose obituary appeared two weeks ago.”
The crackling of the flames filled the silence for a few moments. It wasn’t Lyutsifer’s furrowed brow that worried Mikhail; if only he could have voiced his opinion…
“Are you sure that SPECTRE…”
Footsteps echoed down the corridor outside the office, then suddenly someone pounded on the door. This went against all protocols of decorum when an employee was in the presence of Safin himself.
“She’s stabbed the nurse! She’s woken up and stabbed the nurse! We’re struggling to restrain her and we can’t sedate her; she’s asking to see you, sir—she doesn’t believe us!” shouted the head doctor’s voice from the other side of the thick, carved wooden door.
Lyutsifer stood up and walked towards the desk, from which he took a pistol and tucked it into his kimono jacket. If he couldn’t get answers from his sources… he would get them from the patient herself.
