Chapter Text
“May 4th, 19XX. Test subject 007. Female, age 4. ESP: Unidirectional Telepathic Perception, also referred to as Mind Reading. Current maximum radius: 2,394m. Target radius: 10,000m. Experiment to expand the range of the awakened power; start.”
A small, skinny, pink-haired child sits on a gray seat far too big for her in the center of the room. Her wrists are shackled to the stone, and a large dome-shaped metal apparatus covers her head, limiting her view beyond her own thin, pale legs. The two scientists wear similar, form-fitting helmets that cover their entire skulls. The scientist dutifully finishes their voice log entry in an emotionless voice, then nods to their partner, who slowly dials up the output on the giant machine taking up an entire wall.
The child’s breathing accelerates, and her small hands clench into fists.
After a few seconds, the scientist by the machine says. “Check, 500 meters.”
The other scientist notes it down. The child’s fingers splay, as she fights her restraints, before clenching again.
The only sounds in the gray, sterile room are the regular beeping of the machine, and the irregular, gasping breaths of subject 007.
“Check, 1000 meters. Vitals are within acceptable parameters.”
The child’s legs spasm, and the sound of breathing abruptly pauses. “AH, AAH, AAAAAAHHH!”
“Cut the experiment!” The voice raises in volume to be heard over the screams. “TERMINATE THE EXPANSION!”
The scientist by the machine rapidly hits a few buttons, and dials down the output. Subject 007 sags against the chair, held up only by the shackles.
“Someone get the oral restraint?” There’s a note of frustration in the scientist’s impassive voice.
The other sighs in exasperation. “What do we even have the prep team for, if they can’t even remember the gag?”
They address the child breathing harshly in the middle of the room. “007, you know we expect better than this. We have invested a significant amount of resources into this experiment, and we expect nothing less than your best effort. Lives depend on the success of this project. You remember what the project is for, don’t you?”
“F-for world peace.” 007’s voice is a barely audible rasp. But it’s a question she gets asked constantly, so the answer comes to her instinctively. On a good day, they might even let her end training early, if she says it often enough. Today does not seem to be a good day.
Someone enters the room, bowing slightly before fastening a gag to her face with deft, practiced motions. They finish their job, and the door closes behind them.
The unimpassioned voice rings out. “Resume the experiment.”
Subject 007’s teeth clench against the gag as the familiar onslaught of thoughts batters her mind.
I’m hungry-What’s his name again-Shit I forgot my-Haven’t talked to her in a while-Who does she think she’s kidding-I messed up my eyeliner-Fuck he’s got a wife? Don’t want to pick up the kids-How long-didn’t mean to-tell him that I-another 5 minutes please-can’t afford-hungry-let this end already-Doesn’t he love me? PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME! I’m sorry. Forgive me. Mommy-
Pain lashes through her, blinding and relentless, as her power’s range is forcibly expanded far past its natural limits. Her head feels like it’s about to burst, and every muscle seizes up. Her throat is raw from the animalistic, high-pitched muffled screams that tear through the sterile air.
The forced expansion cuts out, and 007 can do little more than slump bonelessly against the chair in the sheer relief of silence .
“Hm. Subject 007 seems to be responding positively to the increased dosage. Its vitals are remaining within acceptable parameters, and the range of its abilities is exhibiting a steady expansion at a rate of 1.7% per cycle.”
007 drags herself into an upright posture, as much as her manacles allow. Her breaths are shallow. Her head feels like it’s splitting open.
She can hear one of the scientists come to stand in front of her. The gag is removed. “007, do you remember your duty?”
007 knows. She says the words so often they might as well be engraved in her soul. “For world peace, Sir”.
“Yes, exactly. You have a duty to the world. There are millions of people who are counting on you to learn to control your power.” The scientist leans down into her field of view. “You don’t want to let them down, do you?”
“No. Sir.” 007 pants. She knows what’s coming. Tears fall from her face. She has been through this experiment countless times, and yet the fear is fresh each time.
“Now now, none of that. God, how disgusting. You are a SOLDIER. You are one of Ostania’s elite, and must conduct yourself as such. We are not here to baby a child, we are here to build a weapon. ”
“Thompson, is this really necessary?” The other scientist’s voice is cold, but 007 can’t quell the tiny spark of hope.
“We’ve confirmed personal motivation as one of the enhancement factors, remember? Besides, the subject’s psychological conditioning is my jurisdiction.” There’s a scoff, but no further protest.
The scientist leans over her, his shadow falling over her from the harsh overhead lights. “You know what happens to useless soldiers, don’t you, 007?”
She suppresses a shudder, and forces out the answer. “Te-Termination, Sir.”
The oppressive figure leans back. “That’s right, termination . We administer disciplinary training so you don’t end up useless and terminated like your predecessors, subjects 003 and 006. They couldn’t even manifest an ability, even with all of our support. You don’t want to experience disciplinary training again, do you?”
Subject 007’s hand’s shake. “No, sir.” Her voice quivers.
“You’re grateful to me, aren’t you, 007?”
007 feels the familiar taste of bile in the back of her throat as she answers. “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
“And yet, your meager progress belies your lack of motivation. 1.7% isn’t significant enough to show our sponsors. It’s abysmally low. Are you even trying to improve, 007?” The scientist turns to the mirror wall. “It’s been showing stable reactions to the prototype so far, so I suggest we increase the dosage.”
Her eyes widen, and she kicks her legs desperately, unsuccessfully fighting her restraints. “No! No! Please !” But her screams never make a difference. They never did.
“Agreed.” The gag is shoved unceremoniously back in her mouth.
And so the cacophony starts again. Building until she can’t hear anything, can hear everything , and she screams, and screams, and screams. As though they were a knife she could use to slice her throat to ribbons, she screams. Until she couldn’t anymore.
Even after the machine shuts off, everything is loud. Sound became pain, and the world became agony.
Someone is screaming for “mommy”. It’s not her. 007 can’t scream anymore. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. She hasn’t tried since. When was that? She knows she used to be able to scream, used to be able to move, and cry, and do so much more than just lie here -
But she’s broken now. So 007 doesn’t move.
“Mommy! Mommy, where are you!” I’m scared! Mommy, I wanna go home! “I wanna go home! MOMMY!”
The voice feels like a knife in her ears. She blinks.
“Mommy please! I’ll be good! I won’t fight with Sota, I’ll eat my vegetables, I’ll be a good girl, so please!” I don’t like it here! It’s cold, and it’s scary, and I don’t wanna be here! “I WANNA GO HOME!”
007 can feel something wet trailing down her neck. She knows what it is. It’s the red stuff that comes out of her sometimes. She can’t see it. Her eyes are open, so why can’t she see it? Oh, right. She can’t move. There is a knife in her ears.
The screaming gets louder, more frantic. “Mommy, I don’t understand!” Please! PLEASE! I’LL BE GOOD!
007 blinks. Her finger twitches. Everything is too loud, and it hurts . There is a knife in her ears, and it hurts.
“MOMMY PLEASE TAKE ME HOME I’M SCARED I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE I’M SCARED!” I’m scared I don’t wanna be here I’m scared-
“Sh-shut.” Her voice is nothing more than a whisper. But it’s there.
MOMMY I’M SCARED I’M SCARED I DON’T LIKE IT “MOMMY WHERE ARE YOU?”
“ Shut. Up.” The words are clawing their way past her throat, and everything hurts . Why does it feel like it’s been so long since she’s talked?
“MOMMY PLEASE! Where are you? Why aren’t you coming out?” MOMMY PLEASE PLEASE I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE!
“Shut up. Shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!” 007’s chest is heaving. She sat up with the force of her shrieks.
Someone’s there! “Who’s there? Can you hear me? Please, you have to help me, I don’t know where I am, my mommy-” The voice talks so fast. So annoying. 007 just wants her to shut up.
“Your mommy isn’t coming. No one comes here.” Now the voice will understand, right? There’s no point in screaming. It never changes anything. 007 lies back down and stares at the ceiling. It’s incredibly familiar.
The voice seems like it’s about to say something, but it’s interrupted by the sound of sharp footsteps coming down the hallway. 007 knows this sound, this pattern. It’s the scientist who always wears the pointy heels.
“Mommy? Mommy! I knew you’d come, hurry up and bring me home, this place is scary and-” That’s not mommy.
The voice cuts off, and a second later 007 sees why.
Pointy stops in front of her cell. “I see you’ve finally decided to speak, Subject 007. These past 6 months had us at quite a loss.”
6 months? Has it only been that long? Or, already been that long? 007 doesn’t remember. She doesn’t remember anything.
“We weren’t quite sure what to do with you. Compliance can only go so far before it’s debilitating to the project. A few of us were deliberating termination, but I knew it was too early. We’ve invested far too many resources in you to just throw you away, after all. Even with the potential loss of cognitive abilities, we could have made use of you somehow, I’m sure.”
007 stares at the ceiling, and doesn’t blink.
The figure sighs. “Hopefully this external stimulus can act as a catalyst for psychological revitalisation. But if this behaviour continues, don’t assume you can avoid termination. Headquarters won’t allow it. Our patience, and resources, are not infinite.”
007 wonders when she stopped fearing termination. When it stopped looking like the worst case scenario, and started looking like an end to the daily torture. Like salvation. A way to escape from the Facility. 007 wanted so very badly to escape.
The sound of footsteps fades away, and then blessed silence. The pain slowly fades from her body. 007 closes her eyes, until-
“Hi! What’s your name? I’m Anya! I’m 7 years old!” I hope we’re the same age want to be friends “How old are you? Are you a boy or a girl? I like girls better, but I have a boy dog called Koro, and a little brother called Sato, so I guess boys aren’t that bad!” Boys are icky “I don’t like Sato though, he always breaks my dolls and-”
007 screws her eyes shut.
Anya just won’t shut up. She’s always talking. 007 doesn’t understand. How can she talk so much? Even when she comes back from disciplinary training, and her voice is all wobbly, she talks. When she’s crying at night, she talks. When 007 comes back from training, she talks. Ever since she saw 007 get taken for training and understood she was also a girl, she’s convinced herself they are somehow ‘best friends’, and talks all. The. Time.
“And the other day Koro did a poop all over the kitchen, and mommy made me and Sato help clean it up-” want to go home “but Sato ran away, so I had to do it even though he didn’t have to!” I miss Sato “But mommy was nice and told me I was a good girl for helping, so she let me watch the new Bondman episode!” Mommy, it hurts…I’m scared… “And Koro licked my hand too, so I think he likes me more than Sato! But Sato…” Please…
The voice that used to grate, is now something 007 got used to. It used to hurt, and then it was annoying, and now it was just sound. 007 hasn’t properly talked to someone in so long. She wonders if she’s forgotten how.
“And I used to play Heroes with Sato, he always wanted to be a hero, and Koro was the Bad Guy, and of course I was a Hero too!” I want to go home please please let me go home, but I’m a hero, and heroes don’t give up! Her voice is shaking, but Anya doesn’t stop talking.
Somehow this feels important, so 007 asks. It takes a few tries before the raspy sounds mold themselves into words. “Wh-What’s a hero?”
“You don’t know what a hero is?” Who doesn’t know what a hero is? She's so weird... “A hero is so cool! They never give up!” I wanna go home… “They’re so strong, and they fight bad guys, and they always win! They protect everybody! Everybody loves heroes!” I wanna be a hero…
Bad guys. 007 pictures the scientists. But they’re working for world peace, so they don’t count.
Anya has started crying. “I wanna be a hero too. I always wanted to be a hero. My name would be Hero Moonlight.” She sniffles. “They say they’re making us into soldiers.” I don’t wanna be a soldier. “That if I do well, I’ll even get a superpower. Do you think I can be a hero then? When I get my superpower, do you think I can get out of here, be a hero, and save lots and lots of people?” Can I even get out of here? Mommy…
007 doesn’t know. She can’t imagine where ‘out of here’ even is. “Is that different to being a soldier?”
Anya laughs. It sounds wet. “Yeah! Heroes are way cooler than soldiers! Soldiers have to listen to their higher-ups and go start wars, but Heroes don’t have to listen to anybody! Soldiers lose sometimes, and they don’t come home, but Heroes never lose!” Soldiers leave their families, and don’t come back. Like daddy. Mommy… “Heroes never give up! Mommy said soldiers have to fight in wars, and fight other people, and do bad things, but Heroes only fight bad guys! They’re always on the side of Justice!” Please let me go home.
“But…don’t soldiers fight for World Peace?” That’s what the lab men said. That I’m a soldier, fighting for World Peace.
“Hmmmmm…” It’s clear that the question is a bit too complicated for Anya, but she powers forward with all of the unfounded self confidence of a standard 7 year old child.
“Soldiers fight in wars , so they’re doing the opposite of peace! The opposite of peace is war, and war is fought by soldiers, so no, they don’t!” She sounds very proud of her answer.
007 closes her eyes. Then I don’t want to be a soldier anymore, she thinks. I want to be a hero .
It becomes like a game. The Heroes of Justice Moonlight and Starlight. They never lost, and they never gave up. Once Moonlight got her powers, they’d fight for world peace together.
Coffee stains on the table. Forgot to buy milk. Need to call mom. Fucking traffic jam again! Who does this bitch think she is? Why’s he not answering? Shit I forgot my keys! Craving pizza. Laundry day tomorrow. Did I reply to that email? Thank god it’s lunch soon. Shit I forgot to buy groceries. I’m fucking exhausted. Just let me rest. What do you care? Oh god I’m not nearly ready for my presentation in 15 minutes I’m going to fail. Coffee break-
007 slowly felt her senses returning. The cold metal of the loose shackles around her wrist, made for children older than her. The sharp smell of disinfectant. The bright lights stabbing her eyes. The scientists. I am Hero Starlight. I never lose to bad guys, I never give up, and I fight for world peace.
“Well, it’s a relief that there doesn’t seem to be any permanent damage.” There’s the faint sound of buttons clicking.
“Indeed. After the effects of sensory overstimulation that followed the expansion experiment, I doubted the chances of recovery myself. It was non-responsive for 6 months! It retreated so deep into a near catatonic state that it went functionally deaf! Hiding it from the sponsors was a nightmare.”
The response mirrors their relief. “Agreed. The losses would have been regrettable indeed. But thankfully, with the introduction of subject 034, we seem to have reached full recovery.”
“Yes, that was quite a smart idea. I confess, I hadn’t yet considered that variable myself, but indeed, one cannot underestimate the social factors for a subject at this stage of development. But of course, I would have come to a similar conclusion after some time.” The voice sounded a bit grumpy, 007 thought. They probably didn’t like having to praise the other scientist. Feelings of jealousy and inferiority were some of the most common that 007 encountered in her sessions with these two particular voices. She filed the knowledge away.
“Anyway, enough of that.” The scientist at the machine clicks a few buttons loudly. “It seems that the limiter devices that R&D brought us are working wonderfully. The pinpoint accuracy is improving, the refractory period is much shorter, and the range is still expanding at a steady rate. I think it even helps with allowing the subject to manually adapt its ability, though we won’t be able to confirm without further testing.”
“Indeed.” A quiet tapping sounds. “I think we’re almost clear to move to Phase 4.”
“Well isn’t that exciting .” A full body shudder runs through Subject 007. She’s heard whispers of Phase 4, and it always sounded bad. I am Hero Starlight. I never lose to bad guys, I’ll never lose to ANY bad guys, I’ll never give up, and I fight for world peace.
“So you’re gonna be a hero soon, huh?” How lucky. I haven’t even gotten a superpower yet, but 007 gets to proceed to “Phase 4”. I wonder what it means. “You’ll get to go fight for world peace!”
“Yeah. Anya will be a hero too. I’ll wait, so we can be heroes together.”
Anya never forced her to do anything. Anya understood that there were days when even the smallest sounds were excruciating, that 007 sometimes went days without speaking (Anya spoke for her), that 007 could read her thoughts, but wasn’t scared. But most importantly, Anya was her friend. Her only friend.
Wow! That’s my best friend! “Yeah! It’s not Heroes of Justice: Moonlight and Starlight without Moonlight! Just you wait! I’ll get a superpower any day now!”
007 felt a small hint of joy. “Yeah. And we’ll fight the bad guys for world peace together.”
And so Anya became 007’s reason to live.
It was a small, inconsequential moment that broke her world. A moment that 007 had experienced several times already. A moment she didn’t know how to forget.
“Well, it was bound to happen. Subject 034 started too late.” There’s a pair of scientists walking towards her cell. Subject 034 is Anya. She’s talking about Anya .
“Indeed. And well, she fulfilled her purpose. Developing Subject 034 was always the secondary priority. The introduction of an interpersonal stimulus for Subject 007 was successful. I suppose we can mourn the wasted resources, but we got sufficient data on the prototype as well, so I suppose we can consider it an overall success.”
“And if she can serve as an additional motivational factor, then all the better.”
They stop in front of her cell. She doesn’t want to see them. She never wants to see them, but today, somehow, she knows something infinitely worse than Disciplinary Training will happen. Please. Not again. Not Anya. She squeezes her trembling hands into fists. It doesn’t stop their shaking.
“Come, 007.” 007 doesn’t move. She can’t remember a time when she consciously defied the Lab men like this. But she really, really doesn’t want to go.
There’s a pause, and then. “007. Now.”
007’s body makes the choice for her. Her body has learned, after many, many lessons, that insubordination is not tolerated. Her body does not know how to disobey. Her body follows the Lab men out of her cell. As her body walks for her, 007 feels her mind drift further away from it. It’s an overwhelming relief. Her mind doesn’t have to be here. It floats further away, attached only by the barest string. Her body might have to be here, walking through the corridor, but her mind can stay somewhere far away. Somewhere safe.
They reach a door. The door isn’t open. Anya has the vague hope that the door will stay shut, that she won’t have to see the contents of the room. But then one of the scientists swings the door open, and she sees.
It’s a normal training room. With a metal chair, and small shackles, the machine next to it, and Lab men standing around. And of course, there’s the child in the chair. Slumped over, the shackles the only thing holding it to the chair. It, because it’s not Anya. Anya isn’t anywhere here. Anya is loud, her voice is loud, her thoughts are loud, but the room is quiet, because Anya isn’t here. The body in the chair isn’t Anya. It isn’t . It can’t be .
“Do you see, 007? The consequences of uselessness. If you don’t want to end up like this trash, then-”
There’s a ringing sound in her ears, like when Disciplinary Training means seeing how many hits she can take before she makes a sound. There’s vomit crawling up her throat. She can’t hear. What are they saying? That’s not Anya. Anya is gonna be a hero. Heroes Moonlight and Starlight, fighting for World Peace. Heroes never lose. They were gonna get superpowers, and then fight for world peace. They were fighting for world peace. Anya was fighting for world peace, so how could she lose? How could they let her lose?
007 opens her mouth. “But she fought for world peace. She was gonna be a hero for world peace .” How could you let her die? “Sir.”
The voice is confused. “So what?”
“Huh?”
“Isn’t it obvious for a test subject like her to know her duty? But what does it matter how a useless subject feels? Remember this, 007. Intentions are irrelevant. What matters are results. If you cannot provide results, proof of your usefulness, then you will be terminated, like that useless corpse over there. ”
Terminated. Like Anya. Like Anya, who’s a corpse, and useless, and will never be a hero.
007 looks at the corpse. It doesn’t look back. She can almost hear her voice. ‘Anya’s name will be the Hero of Justice: Moonlight!’
I am Hero Starlight, and I will never lose.
007 never told them the shackles in her new chair were too big. They never thought to consider that 007 was small and malnourished for her age, and spectacularly young, even for the participants in the project, and that the shackles were made to fit children older than her. Like Anya. She learned to smother the instinct to move her arms during training, no matter how much it hurt, so that they didn’t check. She remembered how they referred to their bosses as “sponsors”, and how this scientist hated it when the other got praised instead of them.
She didn’t tell them that even though she didn’t know where Anya’s “Home” was, she wanted to find out. That she didn’t want to be a soldier, but a hero. She never told them that she didn’t want to die.
And so, when the scientist was left alone during one of her training sessions, she asked. “Is she gonna go tell the Sponsors that she’s responsible for bringing me to Phase 4, Sir?”
“Huh? Where did you hear that?” The voice is surprised.
“She told me. She said ‘That idiot Thompson doesn’t know a thing. I’m gonna go tell the Sponsors that I’m responsible for Subject 007’s progress, and that I’m bringing her to Phase 4.’ Sir.” Please. Please work, please, please…
007 has never been more grateful for her inexpressive demeanour, as when it eliminates any semblance of doubt in the scientist.
“What? That conniving little…should have known she’d do something like this!” He cast a quick glance over the tiny, 4 year old child shackled to the chair, in a monitored room, and dismissed the possibility of her escape.
“You stay right there!”
Subject 007 didn’t move as she listened to the shuffling sounds move further away from the room. Her breaths accelerated, but she forced herself to count to 60 (agonizing, each second feeling like an eternity) before she slipped out of the shackles, ducked out of the metal helmet, and threw herself off the chair and into the equipment cart. It had two levels, the tabletop covered in tools, and the second level obscured by cloth. She squeezed herself into the partitioned section, muffling her breaths with her hand as she waited.
An eternity later, when the tears that kept slipping out had soaked her collar, the assistant entered the room. Finding it empty, she seems to assume the experiment is over, and takes on her usual task of bringing the used tools for disinfection or disposal. As she wheels the cart, she notices it’s slightly heavier than usual, but dismisses the thought instantly, far more preoccupied with the smile Takeshita-senpai had given her that morning.
007 remains tense and doesn’t move, curled into a ball with relentless tears slipping down her cheeks.
She’s too scared to blink, or twitch a finger, or breathe. She can’t get caught. She doesn’t know what they’d do to her if she gets caught, but it’s not an option. Dark spots swim in her vision. Is she breathing? She can’t breathe. Breathing is bad. Breathing will get her caught. They’ll discover she tried to escape. They’ll do worse than disciplinary training. They’ll kill her. She’s shaking, she’s gasping, she’s choking, the effort of drawing air into her lungs suddenly too much, but they’re gonna hear her, they’re gonna find her and take her back, they can’t hear her, I don’t wanna go back-
007 stuffs her clenched, shaking fist into her mouth to muffle the sound, and bites down. The panic crests, and she bites down harder to ground herself. Red stuff trickles down her wrist. They will not find me, I will not let them find me-
The sudden blaring of an alarm snaps her back to reality. They’ve realized she’s escaped. There’s cameras. There are cameras, so they will figure out how she escaped. This small, dark space will not be safe forever, if it’s even safe now. And yet the idea of leaving it makes her want to sob. Her hand trembles as she reaches to push aside the fabric. I am Hero Starlight, I never lose, and I never give up-
The cart stops. 007 feels like her heart stops with it. Her hand hovers just before the curtain. Have they caught her?
“What’s going on?” The assistant’s voice is high pitched with panic. “The alarm- was there a break in? Are we in danger? Guards, GUARDS!”
Sharp footsteps leave the room hurriedly. 007 draws in several gasping breaths, grateful for the deafening alarm smothering the sound. She draws the curtain to the side slightly, and sees a rectangular hole almost directly in front of her. It’s dark, and smells horrible. There’s footsteps coming down the hall towards her. They’re heavy, and loud enough to be heard over the alarm. It’s not the assistant, it must be a guard. Barely glancing at the stinky hole, 007 throws herself into it without hesitation.
A stiletto taps pointedly against the floor, somehow still audible amidst the muted tension of the security room. They’ve scoured the facility from top to bottom, each hallway, each room, every corner where she could be hiding—but the cameras offer no answers. The cameras show her slipping into the cart, but the cart’s low profile and the complex layout of the facility make it nearly impossible to track her once it moves. The cart is designed to be unnoticed, especially in the facility’s narrow hallways, and that’s exactly what’s happening now. As it rolls through the halls, it passes through several areas with camera blind spots—tight corners, poorly lit sections. The cameras, set up to record faces, not feet, provide plenty of blind spots where a small child could slip out of the cart unnoticed. The cart itself was found empty in the equipment room.
But despite the guards’ panic, there’s an undercurrent of ease - she’s just a child, after all. Even if she managed to escape the cart, she couldn’t have escaped the building. The facility is locked down. The security team is checking every vehicle leaving the compound, every door, every exit. There are no gaps left in their search protocols. They convince themselves that it’s only a matter of time before she reappears—she’ll be hungry, she’ll be tired, and she’ll need help. 007 is just a child, after all. They tell themselves she’ll be easy to find.
But with every passing moment, their confidence fades. The walls of the compound echo with the sounds of searching, but still, there’s no sign of her. The scientists gather in the control room, arguing over the next steps, but deep down, they’re starting to doubt themselves. Did she escape earlier than they thought? Or is she still here, hidden somewhere in plain sight? They decide to tighten the search perimeter, to check every corner once again. But it’s too late. She’s already slipped away, unnoticed, leaving them to search in vain.
Some sort of trash chute. Not that 007 knows what a trash chute is. All she knows is that she’s sticky, and stinky, and is surrounded by trash. Her pink hair and white medical gown are rapidly stained a variety of dark colors. There’s no one around. Even the blaring alarm sounds muffled and distant from where she is squished between trash bags. Thoroughly exhausted, she curls into herself, passing out.
She wakes intermittently. At first, the all-encompassing darkness frightens her. She can’t see, she can’t move, enveloped by the disgusting bags of trash. She’s being buried. No one will ever find her. And with that realisation comes a sudden, almost painful sense of liberty. They won’t find her. 007 has never known darkness that follows her even when she opens her eyes. For as long as she can remember, her surroundings were always lit up with glaring, harsh lights. She was always in view. Of the cameras, of the scientists. When going to the bathroom, when undergoing weekly cleanings in the sanitisation rooms, when sleeping, when eating, when they did the experiments, when she was just sitting there, every waking moment they could see her. 007 has never had a moment where she could hide. Her face remains blank, tear tracks drying on her cheeks, but she feels lighter. Relaxing, 007 sinks into the darkness, and it welcomes her with open arms.
She wakes. She hadn’t realised she had fallen asleep. Tentatively extending her senses, she learns there’s still no one near her, and falls back asleep.
She wakes. She’s thirsty. There’s something wet trickling onto her shoulder. She shifts her head, and licks it. It tastes disgusting, but she’s so thirsty. She licks it again.
She wakes. She’s cold, and her stomach is cramping in on itself. But the pain is no worse than anything she’s felt before, and so she sleeps again.
She wakes. She sleeps. She wakes.
007 has a sudden thought. She could stay here. Here, where there are no experiments, no disciplinary training, and no pain. There is just darkness, and it feels wonderful. It doesn’t just have to be for a little while. It can be forever. There is no need to ever get up again. Good. Let’s just stay here…
Heroes of Justice: Moonlight-
007 blinks.
-never lose to bad guys, never give up!
The darkness shakes. 007’s limbs spasm. She kicks weakly, trying to dislodge the debris around her.
I am Hero Starlight, and I never lose to bad guys, and I NEVER give up!
The shaking stops abruptly, and 007’s small hand breaks free of the debris, followed by the rest of her upper body. The daylight is blinding, and for a second she feels paralysed. The world is suddenly so loud, and so bright. The light stabs her retinas, and the sound shatters her eardrums. She doesn’t want to come out. She wants to crawl back into the darkness and let it take her forever.
The shaking starts again, and in her inertia, 007 rolls down the pile of debris and lands on a hard surface.
“What is that? Hey, over there, look-” Anya drags herself up, scraping herself on the ground.
“A child?! A child feel out of the garbage truck! Help, she's on the road!” There’s a large shape coming towards her. It’s too fast.
Hands pull her roughly out of the way. She scrapes her legs further, leaving small red trails on the dark ground, and yet 007 doesn’t make a sound.
Hands. Hands on her body. Large hands on her shoulders, rough and crushing. “-out of it, hey Kid, she’s hurt, she-” Hands on her body, there’s hands on her body there’s hands get them off get them off get them- “Where are her parents? Where did she come from? We have to take her-”
She explodes into motion, kicking, flailing, somehow getting her legs under her and careening away from the group. She runs aimlessly, making small gasping noises. She wants to scream, feels like she should be screaming, but she doesn’t remember how. Hasn’t remembered since before Anya was terminated. Anya… Her face contorts, and she runs faster still. She won’t end up like that. She won’t.
She squeezes her eyes shut, and ends up running blindly into a huge man.
“Woah there, kiddo, you alright? Shit, she stinks! Hey, kid! What’s your name? Where are your parents?” His large hands land on her shoulders to steady her. She shudders, hunching away from the oppressive pressure, then forcibly straightens her posture, smothers her breaths. It’s okay, she knows the answer. She knows this. She’ll answer, and they’ll let her go.
“My subject number is 007. I don’t have a parents.” She states her answer clearly, and watches something in his face twist at the words. Her heartbeat accelerates. She gave the wrong answer. She gave the wrong answer, so she’s going to be punished. They won’t let her go.
“Another war orphan? Shit, this is gonna be a nightmare…” The older, wider man groans.
007 squeezes her eyes shut.
The huge man still has his hands on her shoulders. His hands are on her shoulders, and they’re heavy, they’re pressing down - “And 007? That can’t possibly be a name… Are you playing a spy game, sweetie? Come on, you have to tell us. What’s your real name?”
007’s body trembles, her breathing accelerates, and she slows it forcefully. This is not the time. She can feel it building beneath her skin, just waiting for an opening.
The man is still silent. She waits a beat before cracking open her eyes. The large man is still looking at her with a kind expression. She reaches out cautiously to touch his mind.
What a poor kid… I wish I could help her…
She can hear him. He’s right in front of her, but he’s not wearing a metal helmet, so she can hear him. He’s giving her a second chance. She thinks frantically.
“Are you listening, kid? Can ya tell us your real name?” The older man’s voice is gruff.
“007’s name is…i-it’s Anya! Anya’s name is Anya!” 007 hopes this one is the right answer. ‘Anya’ is- was a name, right?
But contrary to her hopes, the large man’s face drops at her words. 007’s hands tremble.
“No surname, huh? Well, just come with us, alright sweetie? We’re police. You’re safe with us.” He links his hand with hers, and starts walking.
Safe… 007 knows the word, knows what it should mean, but… she was ‘safe’ at the Facility, wasn’t she? ‘Safe’ with the people who administered her obedience training…
“What?!” She jolts at the younger officer’s loud shout, dragging her back to the present. “You want to turn her over to an orphanage? ARE YOU CRAZY?”
“Huuh? Who do you think you are, newbie, to be talking to your superiors like that?!” The wider guy scorns, then sighs. “‘Sides, where the fuck else are we gonna to put her?”
“But…the war has only just ended…sir. You know how many orphans there are in the system right now, don’t you? A child like this… No one’s gonna take her…”
“Yeah? What’s the alternative, then? Are you gonna take her in or something? Be her hero?” His voice is mocking.
“I can’t…” The younger officer looks away, face pained.
“What was that? I didn’t catch that, newbie.” The older officer’s voice is gruff, but not unkind.
A pause, then, quietly. “I can’t take her, Sir.”
Anya stumbles, trying to keep up with their long legs and longer conversations.
“That’s right. So why don’t you just sit back and let your betters do their jobs, hmm? I’ve had enough interruptions out of you.” The older man reaches down, and pulls 007 into his arms without relinquishing her hand. She struggles frantically, and then forces herself still. Only her hands tremble. Her eyes glass over, and she grasps blindly, frantically for his mind.
Fuckin world’s unfair…wish I could take her, but Sarah said we can’t foster any more kids…This is the best thing I can do for her. The place will be full of war orphans, but at least she’ll have a roof over her head, and food to eat.
“You’re coming with me. Let’s go.”
007 blinks, and looks up at him. “Are we going home?”
He looks down at her impassively. “Yeah, that’s right kid. For what it’s worth, you’re going to your new home.” Turning to the other officer, he adds “I’ll take it from here. You go on back to the station.”
“I’m sorry, Anya…I’m so sorry…”
007 can hear the younger officer’s apologies, but she doesn’t know what he’s sorry for. Why would he be sorry? 007 is finally going ‘home’. She’s going to see the ‘home’ Anya wanted to see so badly, with the ‘mommy’ and the ‘dog’ and the…
The older policeman’s hand squeezes hers, but his grip remains gentle. She looks up at him again, but he’s not looking at her. She looks ahead again. They’re taking her away from the Facility, away from Pointy and Stinky and Obedience Training. She’s going ‘home’. She can have a future. She’s not going to be terminated anymore.
007’s lips curl automatically. Confused, she lifts a small hand to prod at the unfamiliar tension in her cheeks.
Well, what do ya know. She’s got a cute smile, for a kid with such empty eyes.
A smile. She’s smiling. For the first time, 007 looks up at the blue, open sky she never saw before, and feels hope.