Elite
Chapter Four

Despair and rage battled one another for the place in the forefront of Sylvie’s mind. The latter claiming the spot as the vehicle she was riding in lurched to a stop and rough hands ripped back the dirty bag that covered her head. When she looked up, Sylvie found herself staring the last face she had seen before everything had gone dark.

Up close now, she took in the blunt edge of his nose that hovered above a crooked smile and the sweep of hair not brown, but not quite blonde, brushed carelessly out of two sapphire eyes fringed in a thicket of lashes. His complexion was masked beneath a mixture of sun and dirt completing the overall image of neglect. But the cocky arch of one of his surprisingly immaculate eyebrows, told her he believed it added to his charm.

“So the little Elite princess is awake,” he said, his errant grin growing wider with his words. “How’s the head, honey?” He pulled the gag from her mouth and reached out a hand to touch the bruise at her temple, but Sylvie flinched away.

“Don’t call me honey,” she snapped, fixing him with the most menacing look she could manage given her vulnerable state.

Unfazed by her hostility, the boy continued his reach and moved her hair aside to get a better look at her wound. “I didn’t wanna do that,” he said, nodding toward it as he let his hand drop down to his side. “But you didn’t really give me a choice. If you had screamed, things would have gone a lot worse for all of us.”

“You’re never going to get away with this,” Sylvie said, spitting her words like venom. “My father—“

“We know all about your father,” the boy said. His smile momentarily faltered and Sylvie saw the slightest crack in his cool demeanor. It was her turn to smile, knowing Reidan Price—Premier of New Eden and her daddy—had been the one to put it there.

“Hey Jack!” called a voice hidden beyond the rise of the pitted metal that framed Sylvie and her young abductor. “We need your help down here. And the Doc wants to take a look at your girl!”

Without answering, Jack pulled himself to his feet, his suave confidence returning to its full height along with him. “See you soon, honey,” he said to Sylvie. And with a wink, he leapt over the edge of the short metal barrier and strode away.

Looking after him, Sylvie watched as he joined a group of men who disappeared through the large double doors of a multiple story building. Veins of ivy snaked up the brick face obscuring both wall and window alike. It was the only intact structure amid a graveyard of stone and mortar. Dozens of people—men, women, and children—carried bags and boxes out of the doors and deposited them into the backs of primitive vehicles like the one in which Sylvie currently found herself.

Their faces looked stricken and overall appearance was dire leaving Sylvie to wonder why anyone would choose a life like this. New Eden was such a happy place, beautiful and clean, and yet she knew these people—these Rebels—not only rejected it, but also sought to destroy everything it stood for. The idiocy of it only added to Sylvie’s bitter hatred.

“Miss Price?” called an elderly man as he climbed into the cart bed next to her. Hearing her name, Sylvie turned her hostile eyes to find one brilliant blue, one sparkling at her from the folds of crinkled skin. The other was concealed behind a black leather patch, the strap snaking its way through his soft, snowy hair. “I’m Doc,” the old man said. “Do you mind if I take a look at you?”

Sylvie considered refusing him, but the coarse grind at her wrists and ankles reminded her that it would be fruitless. Consent was at least a small pretense of having control. She nodded curtly, but her gaze lost none of its malice.

Doc, seemingly unaffected, moved toward her and reached out toward her restraints. “You gave yourself a burn struggling against the ropes,” he said touching a tentative finger to the marred skin. His closeness made Sylvie painfully aware of the ball gown that twisted around her exposed legs. She tugged hard at the bedecked garb, covering herself as best as she could. “We will get you some better clothes,” Doc said. And even though the night before Sylvie would have argued that better didn’t exist, she nodded again in silent agreement.

He returned her nod approvingly before turning to a bag at his side, the wrinkled leather mirroring the skin of its owner. Opening it, Doc produced an OPTIC scanner identical to the ones Sylvie had seen used 100 times back home. “Where did you get that?” Sylvie said, her voice accusatory. The device, most often used to assess functionality of the Elite’s OPTICs, looked out of place in the old Rebel’s hands—the cool, sleek metal aliens amidst the dusty refuse.

“Oh we have our ways,” Doc laughed and positioned it in line with Sylvie’s OPTIC eye. Before she could protest, he pressed a hidden button activating the scan. For a brief second, Sylvie was bathed in a bright, blue light and then as quickly as it began, the light disappeared again into the cylindrical column. “Everything looks just right here.” Doc nodded again, obviously pleased with himself and rose to his feet to go.

“Wait!” Sylvie called out. “What do you mean it is just right? My device isn’t working!” The moment Sylvie had woken up, she had immediately tried to send a message to her father, but had found none of her OPTIC functions were operational. Now she knew why.

“Yes, I know,” he said, retrieving his bag. “I disabled it.”

It sounded like an impossibility that someone like him could have any power over something as superior as the OPTIC. Or anything from New Eden for that matter. “But,” Sylvie faltered, almost letting those words slip out of her mouth. But her curiosity trumped her bluntness. “How?”

“Now don’t you worry your pretty head about that,” Doc replied. “Just be glad we have come a long way since they deactivated mine.” He tapped the onyx patch over his right eye, the action reminding Sylvie just where she was.

These were the same people who had taken her mother from her, murdering her in cold blood. The same people willing to that to one of their own people. So Sylvie couldn’t help but wonder, what on Earth they would do to her?

***

It wasn’t long before the sun was perpendicular to the ground, making no place on the flat expanse safe from its rays. The black sequins of Sylvie’s dress dug burrows into her heat-chapped skin. Those around her, though, seemed unaffected by the rising temperature as they rushed around with increasing fervor. All except for one who stood erect and on guard next to her half wall prison.

Brown arms crossed over an expansive chest making him appear unbreakable. And if that wasn’t enough, every inch of his exposed skin featured a treasure map of scars that left Sylvie wondering what terrible experiences had put them there. Any hope for immediate escape evaporated into the thick, humid air. Pulling her knees into her chest, Sylvie did her best to ignore her menacing watchers and instead turned her attention to watching as well.

It didn’t take a leap of faith to guess that the group of Rebels was preparing to move. That much was clear. Sylvie also noted that the majority of their actions were carried out under the direction of the man called Doc. His kind face and easy smile did not fool Sylvie, she knew a man of power when she saw one. She had, after all, lived with one her entire life—a reality she was sure had not escaped the old man who had addressed her by name.

Despite his apparent authority, though, Sylvie had all but given up on the Doc’s promise of new clothes when she felt the gentle bounce of someone climbing into the back of the vehicle with her. “Hello,” muttered a young girl who failed to meet Sylvie’s eyes. Fixing her with a glare, Sylvie sized the girl up, smiling inwardly at what she found.

The girl was painfully thin despite the large set of her shoulders and her pale skin was covered in a heavy spray of unsymmetrical freckles. When she finally lifted her accurately described as dirty blonde head, Sylvie spied two close-set gray eyes that screamed that she knew her nose was too broad and teeth far too large. In her arms, she held a neat pile of drab clothing that matched the folds clinging to her bony frame. There was something vaguely familiar about the unfortunate creature, but Sylvie dismissed it as general disgust.

“Doc sent me to get you changed and treat your wounds,” the girl said. “If you’ll just—“ she faltered, casting her sight back toward the ground. “If-if you’ll just come with me.” She extended her hand and after staring at it for what she knew was an awkwardly long amount of time, Sylvie finally reached up and took it.

Coming to her feet, she followed the girl out of the bed of the rusty vehicle. Her guard trailed behind the two of them into the large double doors of the worn down building. “I’ll be right outside,” the scarred man said, stopping outside a small room along the wide corridor. The young girl nodded and continued beyond the door motioning for Sylvie to follow.

A narrow metal bed was tucked back into the corner just beyond an old tattered curtain. It hung in low loops, only a handful of the metal clips still attached to the rod at the ceiling. Along the walls were nozzles and dials, each of them dust-covered and forgotten.

“It is an old hospital,” the girl said, noting the confusion on Sylvie’s face. “But we live here—or at least we did.” At the use of the past tense, Sylvie’s head perked up. She had been right about the moving. The only question now was why?

As she took the proffered clothes from her companion, Sylvie raked her up and down again, this time with knowing eyes. The girl was a glass full all the way to the brim. With the slightest push she would spill. And Sylvie knew just how to push.

“Thank you so much for your help,” she said. Sylvie had hurried out of her evening gown into the drawstring pants and t-shirt the girl had given her and was sitting comfortably on the old bed as her companion tended to the burns at her wrist. Surprised by the overly sweet tone of Sylvie’s voice, she stalled briefly in wrapping the wounds to stumble awkwardly over a reply.

“You’re welcome,” she said, blushing wildly before returning diligently to her work. Sylvie smiled down at her bent head more sure than ever that she had placed the right bet.

“What is your name?” she asked with just the right amount of eagerness. Even though she knew full well that there would be nothing anymore exciting about the girl’s name than the drab creature in front of her.

“It’s Anne,” she replied, making Sylvie’s streak a perfect 2-2.

“What a pretty name!” Sylvie lied coolly. Watching her compliment take its full effect, Sylvie realized when she got home, she should thank Davis for all the practice he had provided her at feigning interest; it had made her practically perfect at it. She smiled brighter at the thought, just as Anne met her gaze. The genuine—while ill intended—grin only seemed to drive her falsity home. The girl returned the expression completely and earnestly, practically drinking in her praise.

Sylvie had always known that her appearance was overwhelming. Even in a place like New Eden where everyone was capable of being the absolute best versions of themselves, she had always out-shined even the staunchest competition. Even in her dirty and haphazard state, she watched her presence take hold of the unfortunate girl and she knew her trap was set.

“Anne,” Sylvie crooned. “Why is everyone rushing about?” Sylvie’s blue eyes turned into dinner plates of wide-eyed innocence, hiding her cunning beneath all her years of experience. And just like that, the glass shifted, spilling secrets all over the floor.

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