by D N Meinster
All three kept their weapons raised and prepared for the battle to continue.
"Guess our peacekeepers didn't exactly fulfill their purpose this time," he sighed. "I can understand your reticence. But we're gonna have to get this all sorted out." He waited for one of the trio to start speaking, however, they refused. "Okay then. Gas 'em."
The entire street was instantaneously filled with a white mist, and then everything went black.
Chapter Two
Decontamination
Doren's eyes struggled to open. He knew whatever had caused him to pass out was making it difficult to wake back up. One of his hands fumbled about his face until he finally located his closed eye. Two of his fingers clamped down on his eyelid, and he pulled at it until he finally got it open.
Wherever he was, it was intolerably bright, and his eye shut right as he was able to get a peek at his current location. Doren moaned and tossed about on the surface they had placed him on. It was harder than a mattress but softer than a wooden board. He pushed at it and forced his body to sit up.
As his eyes refused to open on their own, he chose to listen to try to get a better sense of what was going on. Wherever he was, it was eerily quiet, with only a dull hum reaching his ears.
"Rikki?" he called out, although he doubted his friend was nearby. "Aros?"
Doren rubbed at his eyes and then stretched them open once more. He ignored the slight ache his vivid surroundings caused and studied the area. Everywhere around him was white. It was like they had shoved him in an empty white box. His entire surroundings were texture-less, the only odd shape being the bed or platform they had laid him on. There didn't seem to be a door, and there definitely weren't windows. Was this what Belliore considered to be a dungeon?
If he hadn't seen a human face before blacking out, he may have continued to doubt they were where Rikki had intended to take them. Nothing in this place resembled Ghumai, out there or in here. Those chrome men were more disconcerting than any beings he had ever come upon, and he'd encountered starving Kytherans and resurrected Thalians. What had that man called them? Peacekeepers? Well, by attacking them, they'd certainly failed at their job.
Doren stretched out his arms and shook the rest of his body awake. He couldn't stay in this bed for much longer. He had to try and get out. He had to find his friends.
While he inched toward the side of the bed, he searched for his shield, as it was no longer on his back. He checked the empty space beneath the bed, the only area he couldn't really see, but was unable to locate it. They'd probably taken it. That was going to make breaking out much more complicated.
Doren swung his legs off the bed and stepped onto the glistening white floor. As his feet touched the chilly flooring, he realized they'd taken his shoes. They'd left him in his green princely attire, so why would they only take his footwear?
He kept his hands on the bed for balance as he stood up, but swiftly let go when he concluded he was not going to tumble over. Doren carefully stepped over to one of the walls and ran his hand along its smooth surface. There were no nooks and crannies or hints of a door. How exactly had they put him in here? He shot a look upward but saw nothing in the ceiling that was different from the walls.
Looking at the overabundance of white was getting tiring on his eyes. He kept them open but placed his arm in front of them, staring at the green fabric for a while before he resumed searching the room. He wasn't quite sure what he would find, but he hoped it would lead to a way out.
But there wasn't much to this place. There was nothing to overlook or to spot. What he saw was all there was.
"Dammit," he muttered under his breath, and he began pacing the room. They hadn't stuck him here to waste away, had they? What would be the point? Were the Bellish so cold?
Yes, they were. He remembered learning enough about that. The Bellish worshipped science, as the old saying went, and they placed their intellectual gains above all else. Was he in one of their experiments now? He didn't see how that could be. There wasn't much going on in this room.
What if Rikki was being tortured by them right now, all in the name of science? He couldn't stand thinking about that, and his pace accelerated as he circled the room. "Let me out of here!" he shouted. With each pass around, he started banging on the walls, hoping to get someone's attention. His fist slammed into the white, reluctantly at first, as he was not sure if it would damage him more than he could damage it. But the force of his blows only got harder after each subsequent hit. And the noise that accompanied it only got more boisterous. Someone had to hear him, even if it was only his friends, so at least they'd know he was still alive.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
He was not going to stop until he collapsed from exhaustion.
BANG. BANG.
"That's enough," a voice came out of the ether.
Doren ceased his knocks and glanced around. He did not see anyone join him in the room. His heart sank. Was this the same voice Aros had heard? "Who said that?" he cried out, hoping it was not.
Half of one of the nearby walls slid away, and standing in the newly formed opening was a chrome man. Doren really didn't want to fight it, but he raised his fists.
"Please go with your escort willingly," the disembodied voice requested.
Doren dropped his arms to his sides. "Go where?"
"Decontamination," the voice stated.
”Decon – what?" Doren had never heard that word before. What exactly did it mean?
The chrome man stepped into the room and extended a metallic hand for Doren.
"He will guide you," the voice said.
Doren didn't feel like he had a choice, so he reached out toward his escort. It wrapped its hand around his arm and tugged him out of the room.
The halls were not so different than his prison. There was white everywhere. Why so much white? And there were no doors, or none that he could see. Somehow the Bellish had figured out a way to disguise their entrances and exits. But what exactly was the point of that?
As they approached one of the blank walls, part of it slid away. The chrome man let go of his arm and pushed him inside. Two more chrome men were waiting in this room. As they all studied each other, the door behind him closed.
Doren looked back as one of the chrome men spoke. "No foreign objects detected."
"Besides yourselves?" Doren shot back.
The two beings encroached on him, and Doren stepped back toward the wall. But the hidden doorway within did not open for him.
"You will not be harmed," one of the chrome men said, trying to console him. "Please do not resist."
"Resist what?" Doren asked, his body tensing up as they grabbed onto his clothes with their icy metal fingers.
"Decontamination."
With one swift motion, the chrome men ripped his clothing in two and tore it off his body. He was left standing before them, completely in the nude and feeling even more helpless.
Nothing about his naked body seemed to interest these metal men. They walked over to a section of the wall, which suddenly opened up and became alive with flames. They tossed his garments into the fire and the wall closed right afterward. "Proceed," they ordered, and a door at the far end of the room suddenly opened up.
Doren's body trembled as he made for the opening. Without clothing, it was rather chilly in the room, though the chrome men didn't seem to notice. He felt so defenseless and couldn't help thinking that if they had known he was a prince, they wouldn't treat him like this.
As he stepped into the adjacent room, he got sick thinking Rikki was being put through something similar. How dare they! He turned back, enraged, just as the door closed with the chrome men left behind it.
"Figures," he sighed, and he looked around to see where he'd ended up.
This room, too, appeared to be empty. Were they going to leave him standing here, naked? It kept getting worse.
Like it was on cue, a hot rain suddenly poured down from the ceiling. The heat was so intense he was
afraid it might scald his skin. As the torrents flowed down his body, he remembered that he had bathed not even a day ago. They could've asked him.
He stood beneath the water for what felt like half an hour, his body turning red and pruning as the shower continued. While he stood there, he had an idea about what that word they had spoken meant. Decontamination. It was a complicated way to say cleaning.
The waters eventually ceased, and he was left standing in an empty room heated only by the leftover steam. His body was dripping wet, and his drenched hair weighed down on his head and neck. How long were they going to leave him here?
A hissing noise filled the air, and Doren watched the walls suck away the remaining vapors. After they'd finished, a louder noise filled the air and it suddenly felt like he was trapped in a wind tunnel. If he weighed less, Doren was sure he would've been blown away. He was unsure why he was being subjected to the winds until they'd ceased and his body and hair were completely dry. He pulled at his black hairs to make sure he wasn't imagining it. Nope, they weren't even damp.
Another wall slid open, but this didn't reveal a door. Instead, waiting in this nook, was a pair of gray pajamas. Gratified that they weren't going to leave him naked, he hurried over and pulled them into his grasp. It was a single suit, with the top and bottom connected. He examined it, trying to figure out how exactly he was supposed to get it on.
"Do you need assistance?" the disembodied voice asked.
Doren shot a look around. Was he being watched the entire time? How?
"There's a zipper."
Doren spotted the glinted metal in the cloth and he pulled at it. It slid down, revealing a way to step into the suit. He yanked his pants onto his leg and zipped it up to his waist. Then his slipped his arms into each sleeve and zipped it the rest of the way up. When it was nice and snug, the zipper disappeared. So how was he supposed to get it off?
The opening to the prior room reappeared, with the two chrome men waiting for him. He reluctantly returned to their custody, but they had no more tasks to perform. The door where he had entered slid back open, revealing the chrome man that had brought him to this area.
Doren stepped toward it, and it once again wrapped its fingers around his arm. He did not try to resist as it dragged him back to his original room. Instead, he only listened, hoping he might hear one of his friends somewhere nearby.
But there were no extraneous sounds as he walked back. As far as he knew, he was alone here with the chrome men and a disembodied voice. His hand curled up as he considered fighting to free himself from the metal man and running down these halls until he was certain his friends weren't nearby.
Before he could even attempt an escape, they were back at his room. The door slid open on its own, revealing someone waiting for him inside.
She was dressed in a shining white garment, its shimmer the only aspect that separated her attire for the monotonous walls. Her hair was short, like her head had been shaved recently and had only just started growing back. Her expression was kind yet curious, and she beckoned Doren toward her as he entered the room.
"Where are my friends?" he said, demanding to know.
"They are going through decontamination, same as you," she replied. She urged him to sit on the bed, but he remained standing.
"Why?" Doren asked.
She motioned to the bed once more, and he finally obeyed.
"For your benefit, and our own," she answered. "More will be explained." She withdrew two silver sticks that were stuck together from her pocket.
"Who are you?" Doren asked, his eyes not leaving the sticks. Were they going to be used to experiment on him?
"I'm here to finish the decontamination." She pulled the two sticks apart, and the space between them lit up. She held the glowing center to his face, and then slowly moved it along his entire body.
Doren had no idea what he was looking at, but there appeared to be some sort of transparent picture situated between the two sticks. "What is that?"
"So many questions," she said, glancing at him before her focus returned to the see-through image "Analysis." More lights flashed on the glowing picture. She smiled, apparently relieved, and stared at him. "You are in excellent health. And no sign of the MR or any illness." She snapped the sticks back together and readied to leave.
"Wait!" Doren called to her. "Can't you at least answer some of my questions? Are you some sort of healer? What was that thing you just used? Where am I exactly?"
"Keisler will give you your answers," she said, and she glanced at the chrome man before she stepped back into the hallway. But she turned halfway toward him before she departed. "You are in Cortex, my Kytheran friend. I hope you intended to be here."
The door slid shut, and Doren was left by himself in the room once more. He laid back on the bed and gradually let out a deep breath. He was overwhelmed by not only the situation but by all the questions forming in his mind. No matter the depth that he was familiar with Ghumaic history, none of it solved any of the mysteries that were presently perplexing him. However, he was relieved to find out, no matter how abnormal the environment, Rikki had brought them to the right place. They were in Belliore. The third Key was here.
Chapter Three
Cortex
Rikki flicked her finger over and over, sending miniature fireballs into the back of her captor. She didn't try much else because she knew that none of her magic seemed to affect the chrome men, even when she had her staff and necklace. Yet she hoped that the continual assault on its exterior was annoying the metal being. Of course, it was impossible to tell since it had no expression or reaction, but she hoped.
What she had been subjected to since the Bellish had captured her was inhumane. She hadn't felt this violated since Hatswick kidnapped her and Spira took control of her body. They'd stuck her in a featureless room that almost caused her to go mad, they took her clothes and burned them, and they nearly drowned her in an endless shower. While she may not have been at her full strength, she considered the scorches and dents she'd left in their pristine walls a fair form of retribution. It was only the chrome men that she couldn't properly impair, and they kept dragging her from place to place.
Worst of all was the ugly pajamas she was compelled to squeeze into. It wasn't only that they were crushing her ribs and making it hard to breathe, but also that they were such a repulsive color that she considered using her magic to disintegrate them. However, given that her old dress was gone and she doubted she'd get anything better, she restrained herself. So to occupy her time and her mind as the chrome man dragged her to another room, she'd been sending little flames into its back.
They came to the end of the hallway, which seemed to be nothing more than a dead end. But Rikki already came to expect that anything was possible in this place. The dead-end revealed itself to be merely another door, and the chrome man dragged her inside.
This room was not like the others. It was gray, instead of white, and completely circular.
"Floor nine eight," the chrome man said.
There was a sudden jolt beneath them, and the room felt like it was moving upward all on its own.
Rikki closed her fist and ended her hostilities against the chrome man. Her head spun in every direction as she tried to comprehend what exactly was happening. The feeling in her stomach and bones insisted they were soaring straight up, as she had felt this before when she was on her pegasus. Yet there was no sign in this interior that they were being taken higher. This couldn't have been magic. The Bellish were not known for that. No, they were known for science. Was that what this was?
The room slowed down before coming to a complete stop, and the door they had entered through subsequently reopened. Rikki gazed out into the hall but saw only the same white motif that they had recently departed from. Were they back where they started? Was this some sort of trick?
The chrome man pulled her out of the room and dragged her along down the hall. Rikki considered trying to ignite it again, but another doo
r opened up before she could convince herself to do it.
"Where are you taking me?" Rikki demanded, but she didn't get an answer. Once the piece of a nearby wall slid fully open, the chrome man tossed her inside.
This room was completely white, like the others, but it was more spacious than any of the other areas she'd been to. Set up in the center were three empty chairs, each awaiting its occupants. Rikki knew one was for her, and she had a pretty good guess for who the other chairs were for. She let herself smile. That meant they were alive.
She ambled over to one of the seats, but she hesitated sitting down. She was not about to be caught wearing this one-piece menace in front of her friends. It was bad enough she'd left on the same dress for days. It deserved to be destroyed.
Rikki placed her hand in the middle of her chest, and from that spot, red veins formed in the fabric and spread out across her torso. The red quickly overtook the brownish gray, and the pajamas loosened as well to better fit her frame. By the time she sat down, it was like she was wearing an entirely different outfit, one better suited to match her magenta hair.
Despite the reformed clothing, she was unable to relax as her eyes remained locked onto where she recalled the doorway being. It may have reverted to its disguise as a seamless white wall, but she knew it was there. At any moment, Doren was going to step through, or Aros. But she wanted it to be Doren first. She had to see him; to know he was unharmed. No matter what cruelty the Bellish may have imparted on her, it was worse not knowing what they were doing to him.
She listened closely to the adjacent hall but heard no sound penetrate into the room. Was this place constructed so such a feature was intentional? When she became restless in her chair, she hopped up and moved over to the door. It refused to budge as she ran her hand along it and knocked on it. Physical interaction was ineffective. She would have to try something else.
She stepped back and stretched her hand toward the door. She urged it to open as her fingers drifted horizontally.